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

seem like a very philosophical subject, I think, flipping through a few more cards until I come to a sketch.
    “What’s this? Looks like the School of Athens.”
    “Very good,” he says, leaning against the desk too, right next to me. “Back in the days of the ancient Greeks, citizens would gather to hear their great teachers and ask questions. I imagine Plato in his long robe, standing right there,” he leans over to touch the spot. His arm presses against mine, from my shoulder to my elbow.
    I grow still and my breath shallows, responding to the warmth of him against me. Another few seconds pass before I realize he’s not moving either. Or talking. We’re just sitting here, shoulder to shoulder, looking at his drawing done up in bold pen strokes.
    Suddenly Professor Brooks hops up and away, “I need to get going,” he says, loading his laptop into his bag.
    “Yes, of course,” I say, straightening myself. “Sorry to keep you.”
    I deposit his note cards on the desk and head for the door, my heart pounding the entire way.
    Before I get to the door, Dean Jennings walks in and my heart stops. I feel like I’ve been caught doing something wrong, but I wasn’t. Was I?
    Smiling broadly under a cap of snowy white hair, the Dean greets us and says he came to see how things are going for his new professor.
    “Is he doing a passable job?” Dean Jennings asks me.
    “Oh yes!” I say, too loudly, still trying to get my wits about me. “Yes, he’s great.”
    “Good to hear. Oh,” he furrows his brow at me. “I thought Philosophical Analysis just let out. Aren’t you in his Intro class?”
    “I’m here to pick up the lecture notes from yesterday,” I say holding them up. My hands are shaking, so I put them back down. “I missed class because we had that field trip to Carson Laboratories.”
    “Oh, that’s right. I heard that went well.”
    I nod.
    “Isabella’s taking a high class load this year,” Dean Jennings says to Professor Brooks, by way of explanation apparently. “How’s she holding up in your class?”
    “Um, good,” Professor Brooks says simply, looking like he’s trying to get his feet under him as well.
    Maybe I’m not the only one terrified to think what would’ve happened if the Dean had come in two minutes sooner.
    I mean, not that it was anything. Was it?
    It just would’ve looked bad.
    Right?
    But as I excuse myself so they can talk without me, I have a bad feeling about the look on Professor Brook’s face.
    He looks as guilty as I feel.

Chapter 6
     
    A day later, I’m swimming at the school pool close to midnight, having missed my morning swim yet again. I’m pushing myself even more than usual, trying to wear myself out too much to think about things—and people—I should not be thinking about. The fact that I saw him here the last time I came at night only pushes me more.
    It’s during a hard, backstroke stretch to the far side of the pool that I notice the glass door swinging shut. But rather than someone coming in, I see Professor Brooks’ back retreating before he disappears completely. He must have seen me and turned right back around to leave.
    I stop my stroke abruptly, treading water and staring at the empty doorway, willing him to come back.
    But he doesn’t.
     

     
    “You’re going to the frat party, right?” Sam’s at my doorway, wearing her I’m-here-to-party-and-probably-get-laid outfit. I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, wearing my jeans and an old Crest Academy Diving Team tee, holding the Biochemistry GRE Study Book on my lap.
    I heard Jack was getting us into another frat party—though he’s not the kind of guy to join a frat, he’s so friendly he’s practically an honorary member of most of them—but I wasn’t planning on going. Partying with my girls is usually a welcome balance to my otherwise studious life, but not tonight.
    “Eh,” I say. “I’m not really in the mood.”
    “Oh, come on,” she says, coming in and plopping