Part 2 here

Part 1 here

“Ms. Lepley! Thank you for joining us. Please see me after class. McNamara?”

“Present, sir.”

I continued to tick off names on the sheet in front of me but my mind was wandering into another exchange. 

She doesn’t belong here. The words echoed despite all attempts to return to the small class of graduate students.

 “Peterson?” I flicked the pen across his name absentmindedly without waiting to hear confirmation. 

“Yo,” said Mr. Peterson from the haphazardly filled auditorium. I hated that guy.

I finished ticking off the remaining names and thumbed through the reading, opening up to the quote I wanted to use to get the discussion going. 

The students volleyed for a bit, each trying to make a better point than the last. Usually I loved the discussions that would come up around these readings, but I couldn’t focus today. All of their points, their overly dense formulations, the names they’d pepper into their 2 minute responses…I felt like I was hearing it all for the hundredth time. They were all just so…boring. 

I was a bit burned out these days, I suppose. 

Later as they were all packing up to leave, I imagined that first pour I was going to kick back with in my office. I was relieved to be so close to retreating to the solitary part of the workday. 

“Sir?” she said meekly, seemingly out from nowhere. I looked up to see Ms. Lepley, but I was caught off guard and my eyes jumped straight to her nipples, which were very apparent under her thin tank top. I recovered as quickly as I could and zeroed in on maintaining eye contact instead. 

Damnit, she was blushing. I couldn’t afford another slap on the wrist. I immediately went back into professor mode. 

“Ms. Lepley. Yes, thank you for sticking around for a few. I just want you to know, and maybe no one has really made this clear for you, er, ever, but students accepted into a program at this level are expected to treat the lectures and discussions like you would any other serious profession. You’ve missed two classes now and I haven’t seen so much as an apology or explanation. Would you do that at a job, too, or do you believe this is your econ 101 class?”

She blushed harder, pitifully red. I refused to look directly at the pink rising in her cleavage. She needed to be taught how things worked around here. People had put their neck out for her. She was coming right out of a state school, for fuck’s sake. 

“I- I am sorry, sir,” she stammered, swallowing a clear lump in her throat. She looked down at her feet. I took the opportunity to check in on the state of her cleavage.

“It’s just-” 

This was the most I’d heard her speak and I knew my whiskey was going to be much more satisfying than anything she was going to muster. But fuck, she did have great tits. And broad shoulders with beautifully defined clavicles. Women didn’t even know how sexy a defined clavicle was. And hers looked carved from marble. Her big brown eyes and little pout would have been like catnip to me two semesters ago.

“I actually was at my job, sir. I- I have another job and they wouldn’t let me switch my shift.”

I couldn’t help a laugh escaping me, which I knew was condescending but where the fuck did she think she was? SUNY?

“First of all, don’t call me sir. This isn’t the military; I am not your asshole dad. And second, I’m going to level with you here because I don’t think you understand. This program has a 50% four-year completion rate and there are only seven people in your cohort. What ‘shift’ is more important than this program? This is where people start careers, Ms. Lepley.”

I could see her gulping again but, surprisingly, she raised her brow and looked me directly in the eye, red faced and all. Whatever emotions that were behind her shame had shifted and she took a big breath before speaking.

“Y’all only gave me 50% funding so it doesn’t feel far off actually. If it’s so prestigious here, why can’t you support all your admissions with full funding?” 

My lids grew heavy and I couldn’t contain rolling my eyes. She didn’t even know how lucky she was, how she’d originally been waitlisted and no one really expected her to accept. 

“And I’m the only woman in this cohort. Is that normal? To give the only woman 50% funding? They’re all rich white dudes from ivies!”

I laughed again, a little tired but more so exasperated. She really was that naive. But I hadn’t seen that anger coming; she’d seemed so shy and misplaced. And it made me feel bad for her, pity her. She didn’t know how much she didn’t know.

I paused to weigh my options. She was a grad student, which technically wasn’t off limits but would make me look bad, considering. But I also had to find a way to get through the monotony  of this damned semester before my sabbatical. Besides, she really could use a friend here to get her on track. I’d practically be doing her a favor. 

“Come get a drink with me,” I offered. “I’ll tell you all about the funding decisions.” I hoped my change in tone would persuade her out of the defensive stance she’d shored up.

She huffed, and then I could see her calculating. I liked that she was surprising me a little. I wondered how tough she really was underneath it all. How far she’d go to stand up for herself. How much it would take if I instead wanted to see her crumble… 

Not much, I was sure, but I was optimistic for at least a good distraction when she finally agreed. 

We walked awkwardly, wordlessly, out of the lecture hall and through the quad to the little dive bar across from campus. I held the door for her, which I intuited would make her uncomfortable, what with her tomboy haircut and docs. 

She mumbled and brushed past me, quickly taking a seat at a booth furthest from the entrance, no doubt to hide herself if one of the others from the program came in. I followed, barely able to contain the grin I had from knowing all too well how this would play out. 

This was going to be a fun one, for sure.