Page 11 of Lessons In Grey

“If God made us in his image then I missed the mark, the sins of the father aren’t the sins of my heart. My sins overtake me, I’m made of them all, there’s nothing left to save, so why not just follow the Devil’s example and fall?”

I winced. Hmm, it was choppy, but something to w—

“Is that how you see the world?”

My entire face heated but I forced my shoulders to relax as I casually slid my hand over the words, just in case he hadn’t heard them all. I didn’t need him knowing more shit about me. “Are you stalking me?” I asked, glancing up to meet the Professor’s eyes as I shut the notebook.

His eyes held a light in them they hadn’t on July 7th. He looked…lighter so to speak, and I almost hated him for it. The only reason I had even talked to him that night was because I had been drinking and I saw something in him I had seen reflected in myself. It looked like it was gone now.

Boom.

“It seems the universe has plans for us, Snowflake,” he said with a slight smile.

I grimaced, shoving my notebook, phone, and headphones away. “Fate,” I stated, shaking my head as I set my things to one side. “I don’t believe in such things.”

“No, fate is too beautiful a thing, isn’t it?” he asked with a glint in his eye. “It’s not tragic enough.”

I swallowed, praying the cool weather would hide my burningcheeks. I had opened up this door, hadn’t I? Two months ago. Stupid, drunk me. Always getting me into trouble.

I pressed my knees together and leaned over them, clasping my hands tightly together. “Fate is absolutely tragic,” I told him, scanning over him, taking in the black wool trench coat he had on now. It fit him. Falling to just below his knees, double breasted, a slit in the back for movement. Expensive. Tailor made by the way it hugged him. “It’s tragic in the way people long for it.”

“Because it exists?”

“Because people hope that it does. Is this a game to you? Taking a job you’re clearly unqualified for?”

“And what makes you think I’m unqualified?”

I shrugged, straightening. “I met you outside a known drug spot with a car easily worth $100,000. So either you like to flaunt to those lesser than you or you were searching for a fix.” I thought about it as his expression dried. “You may be qualified after all.”

His brows pulled together as I shouldered my bag and slid off the table. “Why?”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my phone out of my bag and sliding it into my jacket pocket. “You didn’t do your research, did you? If it’s drugs you’re searching for, Diamond has enough to kill the city. If you don’t want to get involved in his game, there are seven professors here working under him. I won’t give you their names, that’s something you’ll have to figure out yourself.” I stopped in front of the door. “’Alohomora’,” I qouted, pressing the button on my phone from inside my pocket.

It was a game Charlie and I had played over the years. Like I said, some habits can’t be broken.

I reached for the door—

“Stop.”

I did, my eyes locked on the doorknob.

Rags appeared beside me, glancing from me to the door and back. “You don’t have a key.”

I glanced his direction, my mind short-circuiting when Irealized how tall he was. He had to be at least a foot taller than me. I felt like a child.

I pressed my lips together and turned back, grabbing the handle and opening the door. I turned to him. “Kinda seems like I do.” He must not have been informed about the app. This could be fun.

Suspicion filled his features. “How did you do that?”

I studied him. Had he only taken this job for drugs? It made sense. There were a few professors here who wereveryunder-qualified to be teaching at this school, which was just appalling, as my dad was a part of the hiring committee, but then again, this morning had been one of the more invigorating classes I had had in a long time.

Drug-addict or not, he had a way with words. “Magic,” I replied with a flick of my lips. I shut the door and pressed the button again.“’Colloportus’,” I said, and tugged on the now locked handle. “’Alohomora’,” I repeated, opening it back up. I leaned against the door and shrugged as he stared at it in irritated astonishment.

After a moment, his eyes found mine. “What are you doing?”

I pulled a gummy worm out of my pocket and slid it over my tongue, chewing it slowly, and swallowing before I answered him. “Trying to get inside. Don’t you have a class right now? Tsk, tsk, Professor.”

He straightened. “I’m free eighth hour. I was looking around. What are you doing here? If you don’t have a class, why not just go home?”