Page 3 of With This Mask

"Both," I throw back sarcastically. "Multitasking's my middle name."

"Thought it was 'Charity,'" he retorts, a corner of his mouth twitching at the cruelty.

"How did you ever guess?” I ask in feigned shock. But it’s immediately followed by an eye roll.

The door clicks shut behind us as the last of the students scramble inside. The professor—a wiry man with a hawkish gaze—flips open his textbook with a practiced snap. He’s all business, no bullshit, and I respect that.

"Good afternoon," he booms, voice bouncing off the walls. "If you check the online classroom, you will find the outline and the grading curve. Your reading list can be found there as well. Now that we’ve covered the mundane bullshit, let's dive in."

A smile pulls in the corner of my mouth. He might be frank, but I appreciate his direct approach.

I yank out my laptop, cheap but serviceable, from my bag. My fingers hover over the keys. I live for this—the crackle of fresh knowledge, the thrill of discovery. My heart beats to the rhythm of turning pages and scribbling notes.

"Today, we dissect the complexities of human behavior and how it translates into buying and spending habits," the professor announces, and the words strike a chord in me. It's why I’m here—to peel back layers, to understand what makes people tick.

The sound of Alec’s tapping on the keys of his own, much more expensive laptop, draw my eyes to his hands. Damn, why does he have such nice hands? There are veins. Thick ones. And a scar across one knuckle. And they aren’t soft hands.

I instantly straighten in my seat. What the fuck was that? Since when have I cared what a man’s hands look like?

Yet, I can’t help it when my eyes dart over again, taking note of the vein that strains against his skin as it climbs up to his wrist.

"Let's begin with the Milgram experiment," the professor continues, and it’s a jolt to my system. Power. Authority. Blind obedience. Fucking fascinating.

"Who here can tell me the significance of this study?" he probes, scanning the room. Silence hangs heavy until a hand casually rises up beside me.

"Mr. Vanderholt?"

"Shows how far people will go when they're following orders. Even if it means hurting someone else," Alec says, and his voice carries weight. A glint of something dark passes over his features—as if he has some kind of personal experience.

"Correct." The professor nods, writing key terms on the whiteboard with swift strokes. "Quite disturbing, isn't it?"

"Disturbing, yes. But not surprising," I call out, unable to help myself. I refuse to let Alec start this year out being the star pupil. Every head swivels in my direction. Including the professors.

"Explain," the professor prompts, intrigued.

"People love to shirk responsibility. Hiding behind orders is just an excuse to do what they secretly want." My words hang between us, challenging, a gauntlet laid bare.

"Interesting perspective," the professor muses. "Keep that critical mindset."

I smile, though I try to suppress it, and will my body not to blush at his compliments.

"Bet you get off on being contrary," Alec whispers loud enough for only me to hear, when the professor turns his back.

"Only when it pisses off entitled pricks," I whisper back, not missing a beat.

"At least the professor already knows my name,” Alec says, the privilege dripping from his words. “He’ll forget you before class is even over.”

"Not likely,” I snap back, needing to put this asshole in his place. “Good luck finding anyone in this room with a higher GPA than mine.”

“You’ve obviously never been granted a view of my transcripts,” he retorts with a smug smile. “I may be a truster, but I got into Westcroft all on my own. So, climb off your high horse.”

“Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” the professors voice suddenly is sharp and directed. He’s staring straight at Alec and I.

“No, professor,” Alec says smoothly. “Miss Winters simply needed some help understanding the parameters of life here at Westcroft.”

“How very kind of you, Mr. Vanderholt. But unless you’d like to take over the class so I can head to the strip club early, keep your mouth shut,” he says, not an ounce of bullshit or shame to his tone.

The whole classroom snickers at his blunt confession of his afternoon plans. I want to high five him for putting Alec in his place.