POV: Atlas Reed
I didn't even make it past the gates.
Two girls stopped mid-step when they saw me. One nudged the other, who smirked and muttered something under her breath. I caught one word: Blair.
My stomach dropped.
By the time I walked into the main quad, phones were out. People whispering. Scrolling. Laughing.
I opened my own.
New Post on "Law Tea":
"Atlas Reed finally gave in to the cigarette-scented goddess of sin. Professor's pet now a pet himself?"
—Photo: Blair, stepping out of my hoodie in the middle of class. Me, frozen at my desk.
Comment section?
Brutal.
"Did she sleep her way to his GPA?"
"He's way too clean for her. What a waste."
"Guess she finally found a use for those legs."
I didn't look up until I heard it—heels.
Click. Click. Click.
She walked in like she owned the building.
Blair Maddox. Black leather pants. Tank top. No apology.
"Guess they missed me," she said to no one in particular.
Eyes. Phones. Gasps.
She caught mine and winked. "Miss me, professor?"
I said nothing.
She tossed a folded note onto my desk.
"Thanks for the field trip. 10/10. Would traumatize again."
Then she sat three rows behind me, legs up on the next seat, sunglasses on, twirling a cigarette between her fingers.
She looked like chaos.
And suddenly, for the first time in my entire academic life…
I couldn't focus on the lecture.