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sense.
    “You told me you lost your
parents before I even knew your name. I kind of figured I was safe telling you
my zodiac sign.”
    He remembered my lie. Not
like it was an easy thing to forget. I guess now it needed to be my truth.
    Crap, I needed to call my
mother. Tell her I’d gotten to
Senegal with the Peace Corps in one piece and that the dam we were building for
the villagers was going super-duper.
    Forget it—way too much lying.
I’d email her.
     “I don’t drink either,” I
said. It was my mantra now, but a few weeks ago my mantra was just that word, drink,
drink, drink . Even this morning it was hard to deny the gnawing need I knew
I would have for a glass of wine. Only one, after what I assumed would be the
longest day of my life.
    “You’re not pre-law because
your parents died in a horrible accident and you want justice, right?” he
asked.
    “I’m a college freshman,” I
said, hiding a smile, “not Batman.”
    He shrugged, “I’m doing it
for justice.” He reached into his bag, took out his laptop and clicked it on.
    I guess he wasn’t just some
cute guy who asked me to call him Chazz, or even just my RA; he was someone
with loftier goals than mine. He wanted justice for someone, for something. I wanted
a career where I didn’t have to keep getting people coffee and giving the guy I’d
been screwing more than coffee on his coffee breaks.
    There was more, though. My lack
of a college degree had given me one and only one future—office bitch. There was
no escape. You could move up, down, and sideways but you could never get out.
    No matter where I worked,
there was only so high I could ever go.
    Especially when the guy I
had been sleeping with for the last year was also my boss and hated answering
his own phone almost as much as he liked my blow jobs.
    Sure, I could have gone to
community college, or night school, but I wanted what I’d run away from at
eighteen. The real college experience, minus the booze. I appreciated the irony.
    Carter put his book on his
desk. The cover was shiny, the spine straight, as if it was right off the
shelf.
     “I’ve already done this
week’s reading,” I said, like I was trying to prove something.
    “Me too,” he said, “three
years ago.”
    “But you bought a new book?”
    “New class, new book,” he
shrugged.
    My itchy sweater and cat ears
hat clearly illustrated I shared his beliefs.
    Our professor walked down
the aisle to the front of the lecture hall. I took in broad shoulders, the perfect
amount of beard to make it sexy instead of scruffy, and cavernous brown eyes.
    What was with this place and
all the hot guys?
    As someone who watched Grey’s
Anatomy religiously when it was still cool, I couldn’t deny that my Civicsprofessor and, I noted, glancing at my schedule, Faculty Advisor ,
was a dead ringer for Dr. McSteamy.
    My chin seemingly fell into
my lap.
    “All the girls do that,”
Carter whispered with a tilt to his head.
    At least I’d kept my panting
internal. I closed my mouth quickly.
    I glanced at my schedule again
and followed the asterisk next to Faculty Advisor at the bottom of the
page. Faculty Advisors are available during office hours to their freshman
advisees for any questions or concerns they might have.
    I definitely had some
questions and concerns.
    He reached the front of the
hall and stood behind the podium. “I am Professor Greyson Parker. You can call
me Dr. Parker. If you get an A in this class, you can call me Greyson.”
    Are you kidding, his name
was Greyson?
    “No doubt you are here
because you want to attend law school,” he continued, “and in my class and
discussion sections I will do my best to prepare you, but you may also discover
the work load makes you want to choose another profession.”
    I stared at my laptop, my neck
and chest as uncontrollably hot as a forest fire. 
    Perfect. So far I had one
guy I couldn’t touch and one who would never touch me who I also couldn’t
touch.
    “You may also