Chapter 7

/-Hazel-/

I cuss over and over as I write the apology speech. He thinks this is funny, doesn't he? He thinks it's cool to make me suffer because he feels like.

“You can't blame me for my behavior when you're being a total asshole to me! You let me walk to school this morning, banned me from entering your class, all because your stupid ass doesn't like me?! Guess what, I don't like you either and I am not sorry for it. If you want an apology, get one from your fucking wife, first!”

I let out a breath, staring at the words with satisfaction. Apology my ass!

I package the letter and head to his office. Just as I reach for the handle, I hear giggles.

“Aren't you the sweetest, Ryker? You just know the right words to say,” a feminine singsong voice cooed.

I knew that voice. It gave me the ginger to push the door to catch them in the act but when I opened it, Ryker was in his seat with a bored expression and there was Miss Elle, our linguistic professor, leaning over his desk.

Their eyes snap to me in questioning looks. I clear my throat awkwardly.

“Uhmm… hi. I didn't mean to interrupt.i just wanted to get this to Professor Ryker,” I say and she gets off the desk.

“We'll chat later, Ry. Don't forget dinner,” she casts me a look I can't comprehend before leaving.

I am still staring at her retreating figure when Ryker calls my attention, “What did you want to give to me?”

“This, obviously,” I wave the envelope in his face. Incase he was blind enough not to see it earlier.

“You know you are rude, don't you? Didn't your parents teach you some manners?” He asks.

“Oh, like you taught your wife,” I scoff and he gets off the seat.

“Say that one more time,” he dares me. My brain tells me to abort but as usual I do the exact opposite.

“I said, like you taught your fucking wife. She don't even respect you and you expect me to…” a slap meets me in the face and I stagger back in shock.

I palm my cheeks as the pain shoots through me.

“I don't care if your parents own this country but you will keep my family out of your mouth! Next time this repeats itself you will not live to tell the story. Now get out!” He snaps.

I don't move. My eyes remain fixed on him as tears roll down my cheeks. He hit me! My fucking professor hit me!

Anger courses through me.

“How. Dare. You.” I seeth, my breathing becomes heavier with each word.

Ryker walks over to me, his own anger rising just as mine.

“Get out!” He orders.

“No!”

He grabs my arm, ready to throw me out but I push him off with all my might.

“Let go of me!” I yell, the angry tears falling off my eyes in torrents. As much as I don't want to cry infront of him, I'm too angry to care. “What is wrong with all of you?! You think it is funny to mess with my dreams and hit me when I fight back? Am I a fucking joke to you?”

Ryker stands back, surprised by my outburst.

“All I want to do is draw and paint so why do you keep doing this to me? What did I ever do to you? I've done everything! Played the good daughter, been a good student, ensured my grades are perfect. What more do you want? Why do you keep frustrating me?” I continue yelling.

It feels like everything I've been bottling up explodes at that moment. I don't even realize when I break into a sob until strong arms wrap around me and the minty scent envelops me.

He strokes my hair gently as I cry in his shirt.

“I'm sorry I hit you. I just don't appreciate strangers talking about my personal life,” he says quietly.

I pull away and my eyes connect to the make-up stain on his shirt. His eyes follow mine to the stain.

“I'm not getting you a new shirt,” I tell him.

“I wasn't going to ask you to. Look, Hazel, I know you think I'm being hard on you but you must understand that all great artists went through criticism. The most important thing is for you to improve not throw tantrums,” he says softly.

My eyes meet with his. This is the first time he has spoken kindly to me.

“Will.. will you tutor me then..”

“Hazel…”

“I can't get anymore Bs professor.” I interrupt.

“There is nothing wrong with a B…”

“That's what you think but my parents don't think that way. They don't want me here, Ryker. They want me locked away in some stupid laboratory, splitting brains or transfusing blood. I love art… this is my dream, professor and the only way they would let me have it is if I hoard As,” I explain.

He turns away from me but I quickly grab his hand.

“Please, Ryker. You have to help me,” I plea.

“Ryker?” He narrows his eyes. “If I'm going to do this, you need to start respecting me.”

I restrict the urge to roll my eyes.

“Is that a yes?” I ask.

“It's a maybe. A very big maybe,” he states.

“I will be on my best behavior, I promise. I will do whatever it takes to get in your food books,” I say desperately. He gives me a look that points that he can see through my lie.

“Please,” I add.

“Fine. I'll see you at my place after school,” my eyes lit up immediately. “Your boyfriend will be out with his mother by then so don't look forward to any cuddly moment.”

My smile drops. He didn't have to ruin that for me but being Ryker, he seems to be jerking off on getting on my nerves.

I resist the temptation to clap back and nod stiffly, “duly noted prof.”

“And please dress decently.”

I shoot him a glare but he backs me, missing the daggers I aim at him.

“Any complaints, Miss Acker?” He fully relaxes on his seat now. I can tell he is looking for an excuse to call off the deal but I won't give him that pleasure.

“Understood, prof.”

“Good, start with a proper apology letter.”

At this point, it takes the grace of God not to jump on him and rip his throat out.