Mutual distrust described our relationship perfectly.

But sitting down next to Noah, the gruff Senseque guy from Nash’s goon squad, was definitely the worse fate.

With growing panic, I walked past Amber and eyed the platinum blond Ruisangor. One of the three who were now studying here and just reeked of trouble.

This one was the quietest of the three, the one the others were least afraid of, but none of them knew that quiet people were actually the more dangerous ones.

He stared around the room, eyeing the modern high-tech board with his blue eyes, as if the obviously absent professor had written something on it.

Strange guy.

“May I?” I dared to ask, pointing to the empty seat next to him.

David broke free of his creepy stare, and his sharp gaze met mine.

Awesome. How had I even come up with the idea of addressing him?

He eyed me briefly, raised his chest as if he were annoyed, and looked back at the blackboard.

At least that wasn’t a no... So, I carefully pulled back the chair and sat down before unpacking my bag with shaky hands.

God, that damn shaking. Couldn’t it just stop?

I felt David’s gaze on me, but when I looked at him, he was already staring around the room again.

Ruisangors were odd. I wondered if they really only fed on blood donations, or if one of them was behind the missing persons cases in Fogs Forest.

“I hear he’s super-hot!” Amber gushed, as if she were talking about the Vanderwood human football players again.

“But he is our professor.”

I looked up in confusion at Kelly, who was staring at Amber in shock.

“No one here cares about that,” Amber hissed, waving it off with an eye-roll. “Or do you think these bitches are here to learn?”

I followed her gaze to the human girls around us.

Inside me, it was working.

Had they just been talking about the prof?

I flipped open my laptop and clicked through the lists of courses on the university website. I quickly found the Introduction to Molecular Biology 2 course I was sitting in.

Clicking on the profile of the instructor, Professor Rufford, I raised my eyebrows and looked back at Amber. I stifled a gleeful grin.

Amber and the other girls would be floored when the professor walked into the room. Or they all had daddy complexes and were into men in their sixties with full beards.

My cell phone buzzed. Warmth crept to my face and I knew I had red spots on my face. Amber’s annoyed look confirmed it and made me hastily turn off my phone’s notification tone.

I saw who had texted me. Erik.

Normally, I would have smirked, but right now, I just felt the adrenaline spreading through me.

I still hadn’t quite gotten over the shock of Erik being able to walk around here somewhere.

First, I had suffered a mental breakdown, finally fleeing to the bathroom, locking myself in, and trying not to hyperventilate. Next, the phase of euphoria had broken out over me and I had pranced around the bathroom like a jittery high school girl. But then I had realized that I couldn’t tell him I was here either.

He would want to meet me, maybe look for me. And the fact that he was human didn’t make it any better. We would never be able to be friends without the friendship we had built up so far falling apart. Especially here, in Blairville.

Currently, I tried to convince myself that it was better to pretend I never knew he was a student at Vanderwood. But with each step I took, with each young man I passed, the uneasy feeling in my stomach grew.

He was here, somewhere. And the urge to find out who he was and what he looked like was driving me crazy.

Now I did have to smile because Erik was in his element. In his philosophical blog, through which I had gotten to know him, he had often referred to Greek literature and recommended books, all of which I had read. Thanks to him, I have had a period of studying Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle day and night, and had even begun to learn Greek.

“Good morning,” a pleasantly deep male voice said, forcing me to look up from my laptop. “I’m sorry. I got held up.”

I followed the gawking gazes of the girls who had stopped their conversations and lingered on the object of their eager expressions.

A tall, athletic man with broad shoulders and a small waist, dressed in gray leather Oxfords; gray chinos; a white shirt; and a gray vest, tailored to fit around his waist; strode across the room and placed an iPad and some documents on the modern wooden table.

The girls he passed either stared after him or turned to their seatmates to continue whispering excitedly.

“But now that I’m here, I’d like to get right to it,” the man declared, turning away from the table toward the course.

I held my breath.

His short wavy hair was champagne blond, almost as light as mine, but it didn’t seem that cold. Instead, it had a barely noticeable golden hue and hung slightly down his forehead.

His eyes, probably the most memorable thing about his appearance, reminded me of peridots, a bright, warm green, which I associated with spring.

His features were angular, sharp, and masculine, and the three-day beard did the rest.

This man was the embodiment of what was called Adonis.

How old was he? Late twenties? What was he doing here? Was he a master’s student? And where was the professor?

The man began to roll up his shirt sleeves in concentration, and almost by itself, my attention slid to the veins that stood out on his forearms – like a damn work of art – and extended to the back of his hands.

“And because I don't want to overwhelm you right away, I’d say I’ll introduce myself.” He leaned against the table behind him and crossed his arms. “And if you want, feel free to ask me a few questions.”

I blinked in confusion and tore my gaze away from his arms.

Wait... this was supposed to be the professor?