Wilder

“It’s not me doing anything, Miss Baxter. You missed the quiz because you failed to return to the ship in time. There are consequences to your actions.”

Asshole.

I walked into the classroom, Leah’s immediate look of relief transforming to annoyance when she checked her watch.

“Production meeting ran late,” I said as way of explanation as I leaned against the desk she stood next to.

“Not even an apology, Mr. Wilder?” Dr. Douchebag snapped.

“Apologizing would mean that I wish it hadn’t happened and I’d do my best to not let it happen again. Seeing as we were discussing the safety of our upcoming stunt, I’m not sorry that it took longer than expected, and as for intending to never be late…well, I know myself better than to make that kind of promise.”

Leah sighed.

“Well, be that as it may”—he looked at me over his glasses—“when you neglected to get back to the Athena on time, you missed two of my classes, including a quiz.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

“Seeing as you chose not to be where you were supposed to, I’m under no obligation to let you take the quiz, and I see no reason to let you.”

“But, sir, every other professor has agreed to let us turn in all the work due in the next few days,” Leah said, her voice calm and rational, but her fingers rubbed her shirt. She was nervous as hell.

“Well, I’m not any of the other professors, am I? Every other student made it back to the ship. Every other student is here for their education, not for some adrenaline-fueled vacation.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Leah started.

“That’s bullshit,” I finished.

“Excuse me?” Dr. Westwick turned his wrath on me, where I’d rather it have been in the first place.

“Miss Baxter is on board for her education. She’s stuck tutoring me to keep her scholarship, and it’s not fair to punish her because she was assigned to me. None of this was her fault. I’m the one who caused us to be late returning to the ship. It was my fault, and if she wasn’t a work-study student, she wouldn’t have been there with me. It’s hugely unjust to punish her for something she had no control over—something she has to endure because she wants this education.”

His narrowed gaze jumped between Leah and me. “And I’m supposed to cut you a break because your father owns this ship?”

Leah sucked in her breath, and I cringed. Shit. I was going to have to dig out of that hole as soon as we were alone. Meanwhile, I could set this asshole straight and salvage Leah’s grade. “No. I don’t expect any leniency. I knew the rules. I’m just asking that you not punish someone for not being able to afford the education I take completely for granted—for having to work her way through this trip.”

He rubbed his fingers on the bridge of his nose, moving his glasses up and down. “Fine. Miss Baxter, you may take the quiz after class today.”

Her knuckles whitened on her shirt. We’d only been back on board for a day; there was no way she’d studied. “Can she have a day to study?” I asked.

“Don’t press my buttons, Mr. Wilder.”

“Paxton, it’s fine,” she said under her breath as the first of the students filed in for class.

“Good, then I’ll be ready for you after class. Mr. Wilder, you do not get afforded the same luxury.” He turned, dismissing us as he headed toward his desk.

“He’s such an asshole,” I said as I sat in the desk I’d been propped on.

“Your dad owns the ship?” she threw back, taking her seat next to me.

Shit. “No. I mean, he owns the company that owns the ship, but—”

“That company isn’t public, so yes, your dad owns the ship.” She slammed her notebook on the desk.

“My dad owns the ship,” I agreed.

“And that’s why you can build a half-pipe in the theater and no one blinks. Why you have the biggest suite, and a work-study kid like me gets into the second biggest suite. Because it’s your ship.”

“My dad’s company’s ship.”

She glared at me.

“Yeah. All of that.”

She flipped through her binder, scanning her detailed notes from previous classes. “What are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

She looked over at me, exasperation written on every line of her gorgeous features. “I’m going to fail this quiz, but at least it’s more points than I would have gotten if he didn’t let me take it. What are we going to do about you? Or did you forget that my fate is tied to yours?”

If the desk hadn’t been between us, I would have kissed the look off her face. Partly because I hated the worry lines between her eyebrows, and mostly because I loved kissing her. “Don’t worry about me. This is the one class I can afford to take the hit.”

“How? I’m struggling to keep a ninety-one in this class.”

“I have a hundred. I think that’s why Dr. Douche hates me so much. That, and I’m an entitled bastard.”

“You have a hundred? How?” Her mouth dropped. Now I really wanted to kiss her, and that familiar stirring in my shorts was damn inconvenient.

“It’s Application of Physics. A two-hundred level class. I’m a senior with four-hundred level physics classes. Not to mention…it’s physics. It’s literally what my life depends on.” Physics was easy. Laws, mathematics, rules that all made sense. It was the liberal arts that screwed me. I hated when shit was left up to interpretation.