Teach Me

Teach Me Dorian University Book 1 Meagan C. Matthew Meagan C. Matthew Copyright T each Me Dorian University – Book 1 Copyright © [2023] by [Meagan C. Matthew] Edited: Brittni Van (OverBooked Author Services) and (My Brothers Editor) Proofreading: (My Brother’s Editor) Cover Art by (Books and Moods) All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to an actual persons, living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental. Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9865234-1-5 Contents Prologue 1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 10. Chapter 10 11. Chapter 11 12. Chapter 12 13. Chapter 13 14. Chapter 14 15. Chapter 15 16. Chapter 16 17. Chapter 17 18. Chapter 18 19. Chapter 19 20. Chapter 20 21. Chapter 21 22. Chapter 22 23. Chapter 23 24. Chapter 24 25. Chapter 25 26. Chapter 26 27. Chapter 27 28. Chapter 28 29. Chapter 29 30. Chapter 30 31. Chapter 31 32. Chapter 32 33. Chapter 33 Acknowledgments Also By Prologue Leanne The sky darkens as I hustle back to my dorm room. Why did I take the long route from the library back? I don’t remember seeing anything about rain, but as a drop hits the top of my head, I know that’s exactly what the weather is bringing. The California weather, particularly in October, is always unexpected for me. There is a chill in the air, but the breeze is warm and comforting. Yet as I look up, I can see that the sky is about to cry. Another drop smacks my cheek as I speed walk, but I know there is no way for me to get to my building in time. I just printed out my portfolio for my curriculum design and instruction course and I can’t get it wet. I pick up the pace to a light jog just as the few drops of rain turn into a complete downpour. I spot the awning under the theater building. I know the building is bound to be locked at this time of night, but I can take shelter until the rain lets up. I’ve got nothing better to do. I hear the mumbled “shit” come from my left just as I slide under the covering. I turn to see someone that I can only describe as tall, dark, and handsome. I know it’s a cliché, but he truly is. He shakes his wavy chestnut-brown curls, water droplets flying off of them, and sighs, cursing again as he checks over the papers in his hands. This man carries a certain kind of aura that screams broody and detached. His lips are bright pink and full, causing something inside me to stir the longer I stare. The way he grumbles and curses while sorting through his papers has me hesitating, my fingers subconsciously feeling for the daisy hairpin I’m wearing today. “You okay?” I finally ask, shifting my eyes from his gorgeous mouth to the papers in his hands. Only they’re not papers at all, but photographs, large and glossy. He only looks up at me for a quick moment, his gaze shifting from me to my hairpin and back before returning his focus to the pictures. Does he think the pin is childish? It’s my favorite accessory, something my sister got for me at the knickknack store. “I just left the darkroom and didn’t know it was going to rain.” I move in slightly, taking a peek at a photo of a bike chained to a bike rack, but the reds and oranges in the photo are highlighted, making the rust on the bike rack seem like the main focal point. Interesting. His attempts to stack the photos in a way that will stop them from getting wet seem futile in this downpour. But the panic in his voice has me pulling my own papers out of the bright-blue binder. “Here, you can use my binder,” I offer, shuffling my papers around and leaving him a few extra protective sleeves. “No. It’s fine.” He sounds irritated with me for some reason as he steps farther back toward the door. Is that too forward? Does he think I’m flirting? Am I flirting? No, I’m only being nice. I hesitate a moment before trying again. I don’t want to seem pushy, but I’d really hate for his work to get ruined. “It’s already got page protectors in it.” He gives me a slight side-eye while grabbing the binder from me. I pull my lips between my teeth to stop myself from laughing at his grumpy response, pleased that he accepted the binder. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate my giggle, but I find his pout comical. He grumbles a “Thanks” before squatting down and balancing the binder on his knees. He separates his photos and organizes them in the binder sleeves before closing it and standing. After a couple minutes of silence, I can feel his annoyance at the rain. I take a deep breath and attempt to lighten the mood. “Do you think they’ll deliver pizza here if we call?” His lip turns up in the left corner slightly before he blinks and masks it again with a look of irritation. I can’t resist poking at him a bit further. “Don’t like pizza?” I ask with a half smile. He mutters, “I love pizza.” I lean against the opposite side of the brick doorframe and find myself mirroring his stance with my arms crossed over my chest. “You want to order it then? I’ll pay you back