Extra Credit

08: she's watching me

ARTHUR

She's looking at me.

Evangeline Bramwell sat in front of my class, her hypnotic eyes focused on me with rapt attention. For fifteen straight minutes since the class started, it's all she's done. She hasn't written a single thing in her notebook.

This was a bad idea. Why did I make her the offer instead of reporting her?

I've never had a problem with students staring during class. Naturally, their attention is supposed to be on the teacher.

But Evangeline is a different case.

Her eyes are too intense. Too focused. Like she wants me to look at her by all means possible.

She's not doing anything crass, or inappropriate for that matter. She's just staring. And staring. Those eyes of hers tracking my every move.

Goodness. When will she give it up?

My pen slipped out of my hand. It clattered to the ground, the sharp sound echoed through the quiet of the class hall.

"I'll get it, Professor!" A male student in the front row who's name I believe is Brandon, rushed out of his seat and picked up the pen. "Here you go!"

"Thank you, Brandon."

Evangeline Bramwell is staring at me.

I looked up. Our eyes met. She's seated in the farthest row of the class, all alone. Yet her eyes cut across the distance. She's dressed in soft pastel pinks, a glaring contrast to the otherwise brown tones of the classroom.

An intentional choice, no doubt.

She's trouble.

I turned away from her and back to my lecture notes. f**k. Now I'm stuck with her for the rest of the semester. I wonder if it's too late to retract my offer and report her. As I should have done.

The rest of the class goes on without a hitch. Ignoring Evangeline's laser vision, I find, is a near impossible feat.

"That would be all for now. Don't forget to turn in your papers in two weeks. You'll have better grades if you started work on them now and not a night before they're due."

Some students bit back laughter. I know they would turn out impressive works.

Except Evangeline.

I glanced at her. She didn't seem to be listening to any word I said. I bet if I asked her what the assignment was, she wouldn't know.

I'm getting a headache. My day has barely started and I have a headache.

Evangeline waited till all the students had left before she skipped down the steps and stood before me.

"Good morning, Professor! Awesome class, by the way. If I heard any of it." She greeted, her voice bright and warm.

Her scent hit me hard. A soft, addictive, subtly spicy scent that had me honestly stunned for two seconds. She smelled good, so good that my mouth watered.

"Good morning, Miss Bramwell," I replied, arranging my lecture notes, pretending not to be affected by her scent. "What do you want?"

"So formal! You can just call me Evangeline. Or Eva. Or Lina. Or Angel. Honestly, you can make a million nicknames from my name. Make your pick. What will it be, Professor?"

I stared at her.

Is she serious? And what is that casual tone?

"We are not on a first name basis, Miss Bramwell. Kindly keep in mind, I am your Professor. Not your friend. In addition, do not speak to me in a casual manner. Maintain professionalism at all times."

She frowned, pushing out her bottom lip as she did. I stared at her lip longer than I should have. "I bet you're real fun at parties."

The audacity.

She sighed, folding her arms. "Anyway! First day on the job, am I right?"

And just like that, her pout was gone and she grinned at me.

She has a stunning smile.

What the hell am I thinking?!

"Don't make me regret it." I said. The throbbing in my temples got worse.

"You look like you already do."

She's perceptive. Good.

"You don't say."

Her eyes narrowed. "Sarcasm. It suits you."

What the hell is wrong with this girl?

"What do you need me to do now, Professor? Shall I help with your things? Or grading? I'm kinda nervous, it's my first time being a TA and all. Just tell me what to do, I'm really good with following instructions. Like I said, I know how to be good."

She batted her lashes as she said the last words. The second meaning of her words wasn't lost on me. She's toeing a very fine line.

Choosing to ignore it, I said: "First, I'll need a copy of your schedule so I can be sure your extra work is not disrupting your studies."

"I sent it to your email last night! It would have been better if I had your phone number... Why, that's a marvelous idea! Let's exchange contacts right now!"

"Absolutely not!"

Goodness. My head f*****g feels like it'll explode. Is she always this aggravating?

"Gee, Prof, you didn't need to spook me. It's fine if you don't want my number. Not like I want yours either."

I closed my eyes briefly, inhaled and exhaled. Stay calm, Arthur. Do not give in.

"It would make communication between us easier though. Since you know, I'm your teaching assistant. I'm basically your right hand! Isn't that cool?!"

"Do not call me 'prof', Miss Bramwell. It's inappropriate. And, do you always make this much...noise?"

She blinked. The question didn't seem to shock her, almost like she expected it.

"Not at all, Professor. Actually, if you ask my friends, they'll tell you that I'm louder. I just don't know when to stop talking, you know. And you're such a good listener! So I just keep going on and on."

"Don't you have other classes to attend?"

"Not until eleven! You're stuck with me till then! And before you deny it, I know you don't have any classes lined up. I took the liberty of familiarising myself with your schedule too. So now, we're stuck together!"

A fate worse than hell.

One of the doors of the hall opened. I turned to the sound, grateful for the brief distraction it provided.

My senses flooded with alarm.

The man who'd walked in glanced around the empty seats till his eyes clapped on me. In the three years we've been separated, I hadn't forgotten the sight of him. He spotted a face tattoo this time, and an extra scar across his left eye.

Still, he was unmistakable. Levi f*****g Vello.

"That little..."

He grinned, spread his arms, and began walking over to me. "Yo! Niko! I've been looking all over for you, man!"

I'm going to need a f**k load of ibuprofen.