3
ELLA
I fled the building as soon as class was over. Not only because I had thirty minutes to get to work, but I couldn’t spend another minute eye f*****g my professor. How had I never seen him at school before? I’d taken a math class freshman year, but not since. I was a sociology major and spent most of my time in a different building. What were the chances of him being the sub?
Why now? Why the day after I picked him out of a bar and propositioned the pants off him?
Why didn’t he do a statistics problem about that?
The entire time I’d sorted and loaded boxes and packages at my job—I worked the swing shift in a shipping warehouse by the airport—I’d expected a call or an email from the university, telling me I’d been kicked out. That I’d been a hussy with a professor which was again
