Behind the Mask 3

He leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. I was standing there with my heart still pounding, furious, and he looked at me like this was any other Tuesday.

Then he lifted his gaze to mine, and something about it rooted me to the spot. All the anger died in my mouth before I could get another word out.

Damon's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm not certain what there is to talk about. I don't give second chances to students who don't deserve them. You don't bother to attend most of my lectures, the quality of your coursework is abysmal, and now you want a passing grade. The attendance policy is clearly stated on the syllabus. Frankly, I'm surprised you're a scholarship student. If you're worried about it, the only thing you can do is drop the class."

"I can't drop your class," I said. "It's a co-requisite for another class I'm taking. I can't drop both without losing my scholarship. So I can't fail your class and I can't drop it. I need a passing grade, sir."

The look he gave me was unimpressed. "You can blame only yourself, Tyler. Your attendance, assignments, and test grades have been below expectations all semester. If you came here for a sob story, save your breath. I've heard them all. If you can't or won't study, do us both a favor and stop wasting our time."

I'd never had a professor talk to me like this. Every other one praised my grades without fail. I knew of Damon before today, knew he had a reputation, even though I rarely made it to his lectures and still passed his exams somehow. 

I rubbed the back of my neck, sheepish, furious with myself. There was no way I was walking out of here with a D on my transcript.

"I'll do anything," I said. "Whatever it takes. This grade matters, it's important, I'm begging you."

He leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk. His gaze was dark, steady, and something in it made me swallow before I could stop myself. It didn't make sense, this man had just spent five minutes telling me I was worthless, and something about the way he looked at me now made my pulse spike anyway.

"Can you cook?" he asked.

I stared at him, certain I'd misheard. "Excuse me, what?"

"Yes or no, Tyler." He said my name like he'd known it for longer than the thirty seconds since I'd handed him my results. "Your attitude isn't going to fix your grade."

I opened my mouth to argue and nothing came out. "Yes," I muttered.

"Good. Then it's settled." He picked up a file from the corner of his desk and slid it across to me. "Be my chef."

I picked it up, scanning the pages without really reading them. "You want me to be your chef?"

"Consider it an offer." He watched me while I stood there, and I ran my tongue over my lower lip without meaning to. I didn't know anything about this man beyond a ring and a grade he'd apparently decided to weaponize, and he wanted me in his kitchen.

I should have thrown the file back on his desk and told him exactly where he could put his offer. My scholarship was riding on him. 

I lifted my eyes to his, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. He'd already gone back to his papers, like the conversation was finished before I'd agreed to anything.

~~

Lucas was waiting outside when I came out. He took the file out of my hands before I'd even fully closed the door behind me.

"He changed your results that easily?"

If only he knew what I'd traded to make that happen. We headed toward the cafeteria, and the whole walk there I kept turning it over. 

Something about Damon felt off in a way I couldn't name, something in his voice that snagged at me every time he spoke, like I'd heard it somewhere before I could place.

When we sat down, I couldn't help but ask.

"Do you know anything about him? Damon."

Lucas shrugged. "Not much. Just that he's got a thing for pretty boys.”

I nearly choked on my drink. I set the spoon down. "Pretty boys?”