Baby Cage Read Online Free Page B

reminded myself that being late wasn’t really a big deal. My chest rose and fell as I steadied my thoughts and prepared my defense.
    Rather than try to explain what happened again, I approached him slowly, held my hands over my stomach, and waited.
    “Tell me, what is the most important component of communication?”
    The class answer popped right out of my mouth, “Audience. You always have to consider who you’re trying to communicate with.”
    “Why’s that?” he leaned against the counter which faced the students’ desk. Crossing his arms, he looked interested and a bit condescending at the same time. His expression shouldn’t have affected me. Whether or not it should have didn’t matter though. Another tickle of nervousness started to work its way through my torso.
    Again, I gave the same answer he taught us, “The audience determines if you’re effective or not. Whenever you write or say something, it’s to communicate at the very least. But at other times, you talk to get the audience to do something. In both situations, the audience is the one you have to influence. They determine if you succeed.”
    Professor Rowland grinned and held up his hand as though he wanted to cover his mouth because laughing would have been inappropriate. Most college students see their teachers and think back to those feel-good teacher movies. They think college teachers go into universities to be the best teachers possible and inspire our young minds.
    No, definitely not true. Considering my background, it made sense that I could read people fairly well. Sure, Seth Rowland enjoyed teaching, but he liked the challenge of prodding students and their views of the world. He also taught for a paycheck. I wondered what other ambitions drove him.
    I was missing something. Another impulse drove him. He wanted to accomplish something else entirely. I cocked my head and found some comfort in trying to comprehend and understand this man. As I did so, my body flickered with desire for him. He was so much stronger and more mature than any of the boys in my classes.
    “Very good. It’s clear you pay a lot of attention.”
    I nodded, a quick bob of my head. I must have looked sweet, perhaps even demure. “Thanks. I try.”
    “But I’ve spoken to your RA and some of your other instructors.”
    “You did?” The question popped out before I could stop myself. A second later, I plunged ahead, “Why would you talk to anyone?”
    “Because I see you have a lot of potential.”
    The corners of my mouth tightened, “What sort of potential?”
    “Well, I guess that’s what we’ll have to figure out.”
    “I want to do well.”
    “One of my colleagues has taken a special interest in you. I just wanted to give you some advanced warning.”
    “Thanks.”
    I waited for him to explain some more. Like what sort of special interest? He didn’t and I started to feel the minutes click against me again. As the seconds hopped past, I had to say, “I have another class. Is there any way I can go?” With anyone else, I would have stopped there. But with Professor Rowland, I added a plaintive, “Please?”
    “You’re a good girl.”
    “I’m an adult,” I said, straightening my back. “I’m eighteen.”
    “Huh. You look a lot younger.”
    “Thanks,” I said, my tone making it clear I didn’t mean it.
    “Okay then, you can scamper off to class.”
    For a half-second, I froze there. I wanted to spin on him and tell him again how I was an adult and couldn’t be addressed like that. He talked to me as though I were some toddler who needed special attention. My mouth hardened into a line, yet I continued. I pushed my way out of the door.
    I was a few minutes late to my next class too. Fortunately, my instructor, Professor Kayla Kline, didn’t bother to comment on it. At the same time though, I had absolutely no doubt that she remembered. She didn’t say a word, only she didn’t need to.
    Professor Kline continued her presentation.