Shame (Ruin #3) Read Free Page B

Psychology of Emotion class. It was a sophomore-level class that I needed for my teaching major. In theory, it made sense that elementary ed majors had to take a lot of psychology, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
    Psychology just reminded me how messed up I was — how messed up he’d been.
    I pulled a granola bar from my pocket and sprinted with it in hand all the way to the Social Sciences building. By the time I made it, I was six minutes late, sweating, and pretty confident I’d inhaled at least two bugs. The granola bar had softened with my tight grip. I tore open the wrapper, scarfed it down in a few bites, and anxiously looked around the building.
    Room 202. I glanced at each door and finally stopped in front of the right classroom. With a huff, I pushed the door open and froze.
    Every eye turned to me. With a gulp, I self-consciously tucked a piece of short hair behind my right ear, allowing the rest of my hair to curtain across my hot face.
    “You’re late,” a smooth voice said.
    I chewed my lip and walked straight toward an empty desk. “Sorry,” I mumbled, scooting past two students and finally stopping to turn around. “It won’t happen ag—”
    The professor tilted his head.
    Words caught in my throat. I couldn’t speak, was finding it hard to breathe, and even though I told my body I needed to sit down and stop making a fool out of myself, all I could do was stare.
    The professor cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he examined me with cold gray eyes. “You were saying?” His hair was a dark brown with pieces of copper sewn through. His skin, tan. He was… too young to be a professor, too pretty. And totally the same guy I’d run into the week before and freaked out over. Could my day get any worse? Clearly I’d overreacted when I’d first seen him; he looked nothing like Taylor. Taylor’s hair had been darker, his face harsher.
    “It won’t happen again,” I squeaked, my voice high-pitched with nerves.
    “Glad to hear it,” he snapped, turning away from me and grabbing a textbook. “Now, where were we before the interruption?”
    The smart ass next to me raised her hand while simultaneously giving me a haughty stare.
    Like I cared.
    Puffing out my cheeks, I pursed my lips and blew out slowly, seeking calm that was proving elusive, as I pulled out my textbook and placed it gently on the desk.
    “Dr. Blake…” She leaned forward, her boobs popping out of her tight black tank top. “…I think you were talking about the passion section of the syllabus.”
    “Ah.” He snapped his fingers. “I believe you’re correct.” He looked down and examined a piece of paper, and then his lips curled into a smile as he glanced up. “Sophie, is it?”
    Swear, the girl sighed out loud as she nodded her head eagerly. I glanced around in disgust and noticed most of the girls having similar screw me now reactions. What’s the big deal? So he was young and attractive? Who cared? How about passing class and making an impact on the world?
    “Passion…” He spoke in that same low, fluid voice that had me slightly hypnotized before shaking my head. “…will be discussed after the emotions segment. This class is the simple study of emotions and the brain. Why do we do what we do? Do emotions drive our decisions? Or are they unnecessary in how they affect every single one of the choices we make? This class will help you decipher between logic and emotion, and hopefully once the semester is over, you’ll know your own emotions and your own brain better.” His voice cracked. “At least that’s my desire.”
    The way he’d said desire had my head popping up involuntarily. His eyes were on me. I squirmed in my seat and jerked my gaze toward the board behind him.
    “I’m not going to keep you the full time this morning…” He cleared his throat. “…because I have an assignment for you.”
    “Of course he does,” a guy to my left said under his breath.
    I