Free The Opportunist by Tarryn Fisher Page A

got dressed for class on Monday morning, still slightly green and determined to pretend that nothing had happened. We had a Sociology class together, something he probably didn’t realize since it was one of the larger classes this semester, and I sat as far to the front of the room as he sat to the rear.
    When I arrived, the auditorium was filling up quickly. Bleary eyed and dizzy, I made my way to the far left side of the building. Hidden by an overhang were five coveted seats shrouded in shadow. I wanted to hide there. Their usual occupants were the class sleepers and a guy who looked like Fred Flintstone gone Unabomber. Today I was lucky. Two seats had yet to be claimed. I began trotting across the aisles, my bag clutched in an iron grip to my side. I was halfway there when I heard my name called from the professor’s podium.
     
    “Miss Kaspen?”
     
    I froze. Professor Grubbs was addressing me through his microphone and people were turning in their seats to stare. I tried to keep walking like I hadn’t heard him.
     
    “Miss Kaspen?” Professor Grubbs sang again, “where do you think you’re going?”
     
    I turned slowly, plastering a smile over my gritted teeth. The obnoxious, insufferable, piece of….
     
    “Good morning Professor,” I said sweetly.
    His three chins were swinging beneath his grinning mouth like a pendulum. Caleb, whose head had been bent over his textbook a moment ago pivoted toward me in his seat. Caught. I looked over my shoulder longingly as two students slipped into the chairs I was headed for.
    “Is there something wrong with your regular seat?” asked Professor Grubbs, motioning toward the front row. “Is it my breath?” He blew into his hand and pretended to sniff. There was collective snickering around the room.
    I glared at him and quietly made my way to the front of the room.
    Professor Grubbs was a three hundred pound bull with a penchant for being controversial. Students were intimidated by the professor's booming voice and over imposing presence. I found him loveable. But, not today—today I hated him.
    “It looks to me like you’re hiding from someone.” He leaned on his podium, and for a second, I thought it was going to crack underneath his weight.
    My eyes darted to Caleb. He was smiling.
    Aaaargh!
    “Hiding from someone?” I sighed as I sat. “Why would I be hiding from someone? And I thank you to not analyze my every move, especially for the entire class to hear,” I added with a hiss.
    Professor Grubbs looked at me mischievously and then he cleared his throat into the microphone.
     
    He kept his eyes on me when he said, “Is there anyone in this room who suspects Olivia Kaspen is avoiding them?”
    Caleb raised his hand.
    I dropped my head until my chin was touching my chest.
    “Mr. Drake?” Professor Grubbs was openly surprised. “Please come and take a seat next to Olivia so I can watch her squirm.”
    I heard his footsteps, then felt his presence next to me as he slid into a chair. I kept my head down.
    “You’re quite a handsome boy,” Professor Grubbs said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this close before.”
    I lifted my head and snorted. Professor Grubbs stared us down, his eyes traveling from Caleb to me with unveiled curiosity.
    “I have a newfound hunger for knowledge, sir. I think I’ll be sitting this close from now on.”
    “Now, I know that the rumors are true, Mr. Drake.”
    “What rumors, Professor?” Caleb’s voice was cheerful, teasing even.
    “You’re full of shit.” There was a rippling of laughter across the student body. Caleb smiled undaunted. He was basking in the attention.
    “Feeling better?” he said, quietly, as the lecture had now begun.
    “Yes. I’m fine.” I stared straight ahead and held my breath against his cologne.
    As he reached into his bag, his leg brushed against mine. I jerked away, but it was too late, I already had that fairy wing feeling in my stomach.
    “Sorry,” he mouthed,