Forbidden Heat (Firework Girls #1) by J. L. White Read Free Book Online

him.
    My face works into a look of disdain as I see who it is. Justin Kirby.
    He gives me that evil smile of his and says, “Been drinking again Mistress Maddox?”
    Bastard. One person on campus calls me by my real last name and it has to be this asshole.
    He’s never gotten over the fact that I tried to have him investigated after the incident freshman year, and whenever we run into each other on campus (which happens more frequently than I’d like), he goes out of his way to make some sort of snide remark.
    The whole situation makes Ashley nervous. She’s suggested he might be stalking me, but I figure if he were going to try anything else with me, he would’ve done it by now. He doesn’t scare me anymore. He’s just a gargantuan prick.
    I roll my eyes. “Looking to refill your supply of roofies?” I say calmly, turning away from him. “I don’t think they sell that here.”
    I walk away and he lets me go without further comments.
    Though I feel like I’ve learned how to handle him, he’s one thing I won’t miss when I graduate. I can tell you that for sure.
     

     
    The following Wednesday, I head to Old Main to pick up the lecture notes from Professor Brooks. I locate his office on the second floor, but when I knock on the door, there’s no answer. The anticipation I felt at the prospect of seeing him drains out of me. It’s both a relief (because my crush on him feels unbearable at times like this) and a disappointment. I need the notes, yes, but really, I just wanted to see him.
    Even though I shouldn’t want that. Shouldn’t want it at all.
    His door doesn’t have any of the whiteboards or decorations the other professors sometimes have. There’s only a simple, brown name plate with his name in white, block letters: Shane Brooks.
    I let out a slow breath. I’ll just get the notes after class tomorrow. It’s what I should’ve done anyway. There was no reason to make a special trip for them.
    No good reason anyway.
    I head back down the hall and toward the stairs. A class is letting out just ahead. When I pass the door I glance in and see him at the table inside, packing up. My heart does a flip. Stay cool, Isabella.
    I weave my way through the exiting students and stop when I reach the corner of the desk. This is a different classroom, but it’s set up pretty much the same. He does a double-take when he sees me, as if I’ve caught him by surprise. He recovers quickly though.
    “Hello Miss Nikas.”
    “Hi Professor. I came to pick up the lecture notes.”
    “Ah,” he says, pulling a folder out of his bag. “I made you a copy yesterday. Here you go.”
    He hands me the notes and goes back to packing his bag.
    And that’s that.
    So much for any kind of special interaction with him. What was I expecting anyway?
    I have got to get it together.
    I thank him and turn to leave.
    “How’s your studying going for the GREs?” he asks.
    I turn back to look at him. He offers me that friendly professor smile. My heart dances around in my chest. I’ll take what I can get.
    “Pretty good,” I answer. “I do a little each night. I have a healthy stack of note cards.”
    He raises his eye brows. “Actual notes on actual cards?”
    I nod. “It’s a little old-fashioned, I know. But I find writing things down by hand is the best way for me to retain information.”
    “I agree. I do the same thing.”
    “You do?”
    Sam thinks I’m a total nerd the way I study. I probably am, I don’t know.
    He digs around in his bag, pulls out a stack of cards, and plops them on the desk top.
    “Impressive,” I say, grabbing them and leaning against his desk. His neat print is on each card and the titles are cleanly highlighted in one of four colors. I have to smile a little, feeling in fellowship with a fellow scholar.
    “Early Gnostic thinkers in Rome?” I say, reading the title of a card.
    He shrugs. “I’m trying to get a handle on my thesis. These are just preliminary thoughts.”
    That doesn’t