Chapter 5 The day after Matthew brought up Harmony's issues with her grades, I took advantage of our next class together to keep a closer eye on her. She sat in the middle row of the lecture hall, her eyes locked onto her computer and her blonde hair trailing over her shoulder. She scooped it out of the way every few minutes, but as soon as she leaned forward to check her computer, it fell back across. My voice rose and fell as I repeated the lines from the book I'd been reading to them every day. It was part of my curriculum to read a well-known story in my own language. Every eye in the room-except Harmony's-followed me as I walked across the low platform. I'd been given one of the largest lecture halls on campus, and over three-quarters of the seats were filled every semester. I pitched my voice low and dark as I read the villain's line in the book, reciting it from memory. Harmony's brows drew together, and she mouthed the next line, her lips forming each syllable. It was hard to tell from here, but it looked like she'd spoken it perfectly. Curiosity pinched and prodded as I wrapped up the class. Several of the students packed up right away and rushed to their next class. Harmony and a few others lingered, taking their time. Harmony cast a look around, her pale face showing anxiety. She walked slowly down the steps, her eyes on her feet. I put the book away and flipped my lesson planner to the next class. My third-year students demanded the majority of my attention, but I still loved the first-years. Seeing the discovery of language come over them was the reason I'd gone into teaching. "Professor Rossi?" Harmony gripped the strap of her bag, her hands twisting. She raised her head, met my gaze for a split second, then looked away. Pink stained her cheeks a delicate rose. No wonder Matthew liked her. She had the fresh-faced look of youth, and a shyness that he'd find appealing. Too bad she was half our age and our student. "What can I do for you, Harmony?" My accent caressed her name the way a lover might in the middle of the night. Her blush deepened. I'd seen it before, but it struck me differently when Harmony swallowed hard and whispered, "I need help with your class." It came out strangled, like her tongue didn't want to cooperate with her. I ignored the way it caused my instincts to kick in. My job was to teach Italian and prepare these students the best I could for their chosen careers. Not many actually needed my class for the linguistic ability. They needed the foreign language credit. If Harmony decided to go into opera, learning a different language would benefit her, especially Italian. "I'm aware." I tried to say it casually, but her lips tightened. The urge to reach out and run a comforting hand across her arm drove me to clench my hand into a fist and shove it into my pocket. "Matthew spoke to me. He's rather adamant that we find a way to get your grades up." I realized how my words might be taken and held up my free hand. "I'm willing to tutor you." Her breath rushed out so fast her entire body sagged forward. "Really?" She raised her head. There were times when I suspected girls used shyness as a front to gain attention. Not with Harmony. "Can you meet after your classes today?" I held out my hands and turned. "We can work here." "Um. Sure." She offered at tentative smile. "Thanks, Professor Rossi." "You're welcome." I ushered her from the room before I said something stupid, like offering to let her call me Roberto. No way, no how. Off-limits. I put a mental warning sign across her name and pasted on a smile that comforted most people. If Harmony saw it, she ignored it, rushing away with the bag slapping her hip. Hours later, with the final class over with and my mouth dry from talking so much, Harmony strolled into my classroom. She wore the same clothes, jeans, T-shirt, sneakers, with her hair loose around her face. It took a minute to understand why that comforted me. She hadn't put in any effort to make herself look better for our private session. I couldn't think of a single other time when I'd worked one-on-one with a student that they didn't try to seduce me. It was why I'd stopped offering any kind of tutoring sessions. But Matthew was my friend, and he never asked for anything. "Where should I sit?" She had the bag tucked tight across her stomach, almost like a shield. I sat behind my desk and indicated the chair across from me. "Right there." Once she was settled with the bag at her feet and her hands in her lap, I opened the textbook and flipped it around. "Let's do a quick proficiency check. What does this say?" I pointed at a specific line of text from one of my favorite novels. Tucking hair behind her ear, she leaned forward. Her lips moved around the words in silence. She took a breath, looked up to catch me watching her, and blushed. "What does it say?" I tapped the phrase again. Clearing her throat, she looked over my shoulder. "'My heart has ceased to beat without you to keep it company.'" "Good. And this?" I hid my surprise by dropping my head in search of a more difficult passage. She read the lines written in Italian and repeated them to me in English. "Okay. Now say, 'Long have I dreamed of meeting the half of my heart that has been lost to me.' In Italian." I sat back, giving us both room to breathe. She wore some kind of perfume. Subtle but sweet. Understated. Like her. Her blush returned, this time in full force when she met my eyes. Without blinking, she spoke the phrase in perfect Italian. I laced my hands together over my stomach and rocked in the comfortable chair I'd dragged in from my office. "I'm not sure I understand what's happening in class. You obviously understand the language, in both directions." Silence hung thick in the air. The only other time I'd heard it this silent was when I walked out at the end of each day. "I don't understand the point of the class. Maybe I'm thinking about that without realizing it. I just want to work on my art, perfect my craft." The first sense of animation came over her face, and it filled with passion. "I enjoy singing and performing. That's what I'm good at. My career is the most important thing to me, so I'll do what I have to." She must have run out of breath, because she stopped suddenly. The oddly endearing blush I'd seen several times over the last hour faded, and I tacked on a few new adjectives to describe Harmony. Smart and ambitious. Determined. If she showed that kind of passion on the stage, I understood Matthew wanting to ensure she stayed in college. "You're better at this than your grades suggest. I'm curious why that is." A light shrug lifted her shoulders. "I don't know. Panic maybe? I've never been good at tests." I needed to take a closer look at her grades. I had other students who needed accommodations due to mental health needs and diagnoses. Harmony's shyness might be complicating things during testing. I offered a combination of verbal and written tests that usually gave me a good idea of where my students struggled. The large lecture hall meant that when I made them answer verbally, they were forced to speak up. I'd done what I could to make the beige-walled classroom welcoming. Book quotes and movie billboards covered sections of the walls. I wrote everything down for them and even told them what I planned to put on the tests. I threw a couple curveballs their way to test their literacy, but nothing too complex. I stood and ran my fingers through my curls. The lights in the hallway clicked off, leaving us illuminated in the brilliance from the LED bulbs in my room. Harmony glanced at the hallway. "That's enough for today." I could tell her I planned on taking another look at her grades, but I didn't want to make her more self-conscious. The grade book lay on my desk, the green cover unobtrusive. I had an online system we were all require to use, but I preferred to have paper records as well after a student attempted to hack the system a few years ago. He'd almost gotten away with it, and all the professors had stopped relying solely on digital files. "You speak Italian beautifully." The genuine compliment came easily. "You mentioned why it was needed in your profession. Think about it like actors. They often have to change their accents, or drop them completely, to take on different roles. Someone from the Deep South can't play a British character unless they perfect the accent and pronunciation. Most plays are in Old English. Learning to manipulate words and sounds in another language gives you an advantage." She stood there, her head tipped to the side as she considered my words, long enough for discomfort to crawl over my skin. Had I said something wrong? I couldn't remember the last time anyone had made me question myself. "Good point." She reached down to pick up the brown satchel and brought it over her head, settling the weight of it at her hip. "Thank you for the lesson. I'll be sure to tell Professor Bellington that I'm working on bringing my grades up." "He'll appreciate the effort." "If only effort translated to better grades." The laugh that left her lips twisted her expression. "I can't lose my scholarship." "You won't." Of course, I couldn't promise that, but I did anyway. If she put forth the effort, she would succeed. "You're too tenacious to fail." "I've been called a lot of things. Tenacious isn't one." She pulled her hair from beneath the strap and twisted it into a ponytail. I gripped the edge of the desk, my nails biting into the wood as a flash of heat pummeled my entire body. "Trust me, there are a lot of things I'd call you." I grinned and winked. Her breath caught, the dusky rose color rushing into her cheeks. I loved putting that blush on her face. I appreciated beauty and passion, and Harmony had both in spades. The warning sign flashed in my mind's eye. "Like how I'd call you my crush?" She slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes going so wide she reminded me of a cartoon character. "Shit. I have to go." With a whirl of her ponytail, she rushed from the room. I sank into the chair, my mind scrambling to make sense of what just happened. I wasn't supposed to flirt with students. It created expectations that I could never meet. Harmony had a crush on me. My body heated, and it had nothing to do with embarrassment. I eyed the door, wishing she'd come back and finish the conversation. Damn it to hell. Damn me to hell. It was the absolute worst thing to happen, and the worst timing. How was I supposed to tutor her when every single part of me wanted her in my bed? A single mother returns to the city she left seven years ago after breaking up with her ex to seek treatment for her son’s leukemia. Upon learning of her return, the ex immediately searches for the lo...