"Your first week is based on observation--kind of like a trial period for us to gauge if you're in the right field," the dean said, wiping a stray piece of lint off his desk. He glanced up at me over his glasses. "Do you understand, Ms. Davidson?"
I nodded, sitting up straighter in my chair. Who would've thought that my first day of teaching would be this...how should I word it? Tense?
"Y--Yes, sir! I mean, uhm, that does make sense."
"Good." He folded his hands together, eyeing me for a while until he settled into his seat. "You'll be assisting senior faculty, attending a few classes, and, of course, getting a feel for the students. Think of it as easing you in before we throw you to the wolves."
I forced a polite laugh. Wolves. Right. Because nothing is more terrifying than a bunch of hormonal college kids.
Still, I could do this. I had to.
As I left the dean's office, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass window. I'm in my late 20s. Though it doesn't show much on my face, the rest of my body has changed. But my eyes? Those big hazel eyes still make me look like a teenager. They've always helped me pass for someone younger--and get away with it. It also helps that my breasts never grew beyond an A-cup, making my ass look more shapely by comparison.
Back in the corporate world, that had been a disadvantage; no one took me seriously when I looked like I should still be in undergrad. But here? Maybe it would work in my favor.
Or maybe it would backfire spectacularly.
As I made my way across campus, I pulled my blazer tighter around me. My first class for the day was Intro to Psychology. I stepped inside the lecture hall, scanning the room. Some students were still in casual jeans and hoodies, others in tighter dresses and heels--probably because it was a Monday and they were still riding the high of the weekend's parties.
I slid into a seat near the back, careful not to draw attention to myself. The students were chatting, mostly about last night's get-together.
"Did you hear about the party tonight?" a guy asked his friend, stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth.
"Yeah, the girls are going all out," his friend replied, eyes lighting up.
I pretended to scroll through my phone, listening in.
"The theme is 'sexy schoolgirl,'" one girl giggled, adjusting her ponytail.
That caught my attention.
Sexy schoolgirl? That's... interesting.
I looked down at my outfit--a simple blouse with a bow tie at the collar, tucked neatly into black slacks. Not exactly on theme. If I had known, I could've gone for something more playful. Not that I had any plans to go. Right?
I mean, crashing a sorority party as the new professor? That would be insane.
...Right?
But technically, not against any university rule. In fact, professors often encouraged students to attend events like these to socialize. And since it was only the start of the school year, no one would recognize me. The only people who knew what I looked like were the dean, the vice dean, my boss, and a handful of colleagues--all male, except for two. None of them would show up at a sorority house party.
That was my reasoning when I decided to go.
Except I fucked up.
Instead of going full-on sexy schoolgirl, I dressed like a goddamn nerd. Black pants, a necktie, and a blouse I forgot to iron. Jesus. I totally blended in--just not in the way I wanted.
How did I get to forget the theme?
I sighed as I felt eyes trailing me. Some students looked at me curiously. Others seemed amused, especially when a guy pointed out, "Hey, she's not even wearing a skirt!"
Oh, fuck. Now I really stood out! I mean, can't they be sexy while wearing pants, too?
I sighed and kept walking until I reached the beer section. Maybe--Just maybe, I could salvage this. Maybe I could pretend I was looking for the bathroom and hide there until people got drunk enough not to notice I wasn't actually one of them.
"Deep breath, Lorine. Jesus." I shook my hands like Sharpay from that musical--wait. Was that when she was nervous or gearing up for battle? Like hell I know! All I know is that Sharpay was hot in HSM 2. But how the hell did I end up like a vanilla Vanessa instead of her?!
Anyway, back to saving myself from embarrassment. I tried to think of something else, but my mind went blank. So I just stood there, awkwardly, next to a table with three guys who were clearly looking to get laid. I forced a laugh, pretending I was into the conversation--until the sudden urge to pee hit me.
"To the bathroom I go," I grinned. "Nice meeting you, boys!"
"Aw, man! Why are you escaping us?"
"Let the girl pee, freak!" His friend laughed, shaking his head. Men.
One of them winked and gave me a thumbs-up. I rolled my eyes and walked away.
By the time I finished my business, the party was in full swing. It was already past eleven, which meant one thing--everyone was either drunk, dancing, or making out. The music thumped, vibrating through the floor, making me want to join in. Just as I was about to step onto the dance floor, a hand wrapped around my arm.
I turned, coming face-to-face with a guy whose pale blond hair practically glowed under the neon lights. His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine.
"What are you doing here?" he whispered in my ear. He smelled like beer and cologne--not a bad mix, but definitely not my type.
"Hello to you too," I replied coolly, hoping he'd take the hint and walk away.
No such luck.
"Never knew the new professor would be partying with her students," he said, the corners of his lips curling into a mischievous grin. "You're lucky I'm one of the few who recognized you, Ms. Lorine Davidson."
My heart nearly stopped. Oh, my god. How does he know?
He smirked, taking a sip from his cup. "Saw your picture in the faculty announcement. It was in the unpublished editorial section of the school newspaper. Lucky me, huh?"
Fuck. My heart pounded. This guy knew my secret. Was he a student? A frat brother? Shit, shit, shit. Please, dear god, don't let him be one of my students.
"Relax," he said, sliding a hand across my waist. "I won't tell anyone. Just enjoy the night."
To hell I will! Not when someone could bust me at any second.
Without thinking, I grabbed his wrist and dragged him upstairs, shoving him into what looked like a teenager's bedroom. Posters of Justin Bieber, Selena Gomez, and Taylor Swift covered the walls.
He raised an eyebrow. "Uh, are we about to make out? Because if so, I'd suggest a less--" He stopped mid-sentence when I yanked off my glasses.
"Listen here, mister." I glared. "I don't know what dark sorcery let you recognize me, but you will keep your mouth shut, or I swear to God, I'll personally make your life miserable when classes start. Got it?!"
He stared at me, then--the bastard laughed. Clutching his stomach, he collapsed onto the bed, his body shaking with amusement. "You don't even know if I'm your student, stupid. Ah, shit. That was tactless of you, Ms. Davidson."
