Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“No problem.” Looking like a proud caretaker and driving me crazy without seeming to realize it, he nodded toward the table with a few packages remaining. “Don’t forget your present. I saw your name on the red bag with candy canes on it.”
I liked candy canes.
Did my Secret Santa know that?
“I won’t.” Probably. I wasn’t usually too forgetful, but as we got closer toward the end of the semester that was questionable. “Thanks. Did you get yours?”
He wasn’t holding anything, but I was glad when he nodded. “Yes. I hope you enjoy yours.”
Dante inclined his head and then headed out of the room before I could ask what he’d gotten from his Secret Santa, but that was probably for the best. He tempted me in ways he shouldn’t. Shoot. I wasn’t even sure he was gay.
From what I’d seen, his friend group was so mixed he could be anything and he’d fit right in with them.
Which was great for him but frustrating from a nosy outsider’s perspective.
Not that I was curious about his personal life.
No. It wasn’t any of my business if he was dating the flirty redhead I’d seen him with at the coffee shop or the quiet guy who barely spoke in the club meetings…Sam, maybe?
Mentally sorting through the names of the kids in the club that started with an S so I could figure out who the shy young man was, I quickly cleaned up the last of the chairs that were out of place before I grabbed my present off the table.
It was heavier than I’d expected.
Most of the time when a student got me for anything like a Secret Santa exchange, I ended up with a gift card because buying for a professor was hard. I’d already mentally spent my five dollars at the local coffee shop, so I was stumped about what it could’ve been.
Had someone actually bought me a present?
The students had come up with the idea after learning that a few of the members wouldn’t be getting presents this year. They hadn’t told us who was struggling, but they said they’d taken care of it and wanted to do something fun in general.
The game they designed was that each present was supposed to be around five dollars and you’d give your Secret Santa a present at the last two meetings of the year. I had it on good authority that everyone who’d wanted to participate was able to, but the vague way they’d described it made it sound like the whole thing was rigged. But since it seemed to be for a good cause, I hadn’t called them out on it.
I still wasn’t sure that’d been the right decision, but Mike had said we shouldn’t hover over them too much. However, since he was an ethics professor, I was never sure if he was saying what he thought was right or if he was using us as an experiment.
It honestly could’ve gone either way with him and that might’ve been one of the reasons I’d never told him about my little side.
Turning off the lights and locking the door, I made my way out of the building and started heading across campus before I gave in to the compulsion to open my present. I wanted more privacy just in case.
I’d learned to be a bit more careful after a very glittery disaster my first year teaching and waited until I was almost off campus and just down the street from my small bungalow before I opened it and held it away from me for a few seconds.
I felt ridiculous when nothing exploded, but better safe than sorry when it came to glitter had been my motto since the unfortunate disaster.
Laughing as I looked into the Christmasy bag, I had a feeling someone hadn’t stuck with the budget, but I couldn’t help but get excited. “Where did they find these?”
Pulling out a pair of bright yellow socks with macaroni noodles all over them, my inner little was giggling and couldn’t wait to put them on. They were probably supposed to be silly or ironic, but they were the perfect present for a little.
“What else is there?” The bag was still too heavy, so I pushed past some tissue paper and saw what seemed to be silverware as I got closer to the house. “What?”
I’d run out of hands, so I quickly made my way home and hurried into the house, balancing everything slightly precariously as I headed right for the kitchen table. “Okay, I’m going to heat up the leftover pizza and then finish opening my present. Then dessert.”
My inner little was utterly delighted, but I made him be patient as I turned on the air fryer and got dinner organized. “Almost done. Then I get to finish opening my present.”
It might be my only present, so I wasn’t going to rush.