Summer's Temptation
Westbrook.”
    One guy hops out of his seat, arms wrapped around his backpack, and darts for the door. Someone’s always in the wrong class the first day.
    Mr. Westbrook waves as he goes. “We’ll miss you, mate.”
    The girls, including me, all giggle. The guys stare at Mr. Westbrook as if he’s a little screwy. A particularly nerdy student, wearing clothes one size too small, raises his hand.
    Mr. Westbrook lowers his glasses down his nose and raises one eyebrow. “Questions already?”
    Nerdy dude nods. “Where’s Dr. Dunbar?”
    “Yes, Dr. Dunbar took a summer research position in Quebec. I suspect he wanted a cooler summer.” His smile widens. “Never fear, he’ll be back for autumn semester.”
    The nerdy guy raises his hand again, looking disappointed.
    Mr. Westbrook ignores him and says, “I assure you that you’ll find my ability to teach this course more than sufficient.” He narrows his gaze on nerdy guy. “If you have any issues, I suggest you drop the class.”
    Nerdy dude slides down in his seat, looking thoroughly chastised even though he never expressed a concern with Mr. Westbrook’s credentials. He’s probably a brainiac who likes his classes hard so he can prove how smart he is. Me, I’m thrilled Dr. Dunbar is gone for the summer. Anyone would be easier than him.
    Mr. Westbrook takes off his hat, revealing a thick mass of short, curly black hair. He sets the fedora on the podium and stares at the students. “I have many rules, and I’ll list them all today, but let me start by saying I will not tolerate tardiness. Anyone entering my classroom after ten a.m. will suffer the consequence. You have been warned.”
    I want to ask what consequence he’s talking about, but he fires up the projector and starts lecturing about the class requirements. Then he delves into chapter one of our book. Halfway through the class, I realize I haven’t zoned out once. When I turn to Freddy, he seems just as rapt, chin resting on one palm as he watches our teacher point to the screen. Freddy’s gaze dips to his pad of paper, and he jots down a note. When his eyes flick back up, landing on Mr. Westbrook, his mouth turns up at the corners. He’s enamored, just like me.
    I think Mr. Westbrook’s captivating accent is what holds our attention, or maybe it’s the way he smiles after he’s done presenting each slide. I sigh. The man is enthralling, and I have the pleasure of sitting in his class, three days a week, enduring an irresistible man I can never touch. This will be one frustrating summer.

Chapter 4
    L iz, Hannah, Emma, and I sit in the living room of our cottage watching a rerun of Gossip Girls and drinking rosé wine.
    “I hate Blake Lively,” Hannah says. “She’s way too pretty, and she’s got that girl-next-door thing goin’ on.” She purses her lips. “Dylan loooooves her.”
    “I don’t think she’s that pretty,” Emma, Hannah’s Little Sis from our sorority, says. “Her eyes always look sad, and her chin’s too manly.”
    “Pfft,” Liz says. “I’d kill for her body.”
    “I’d murder a puppy for her hair,” I say. Not really, but I hate my mousy brown locks even if they’re thick and strong enough to defy split ends. “Maybe I should go blond.”
    “No way,” Hannah says. “Your hair matches your eyes, and that’s sexy .” She says the last word with a little too much gusto and smiles knowingly. “That’s what Josh said last week. I think he has a crush on you.”
    I cringe as I imagine Josh coming at me, eyes closed, mouth open. Drool gathers at the bottom of his lip. Eek! Sometimes I hate my vivid imagination. The way he spits when he talks makes me think he’s probably a sloppy kisser. “Ugh. Not interested.”
    Liz nudges me in the ribs. “Who are you interested in?” She leans in as if she expects me to whisper the details of a sordid affair in her ear.
    I nudge right back, only harder. “No one.” I warn her with a glare to keep her mouth

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