Dude is so slimy I want a shower. “So that’s the chair of your dissertation committee,” I say when he’s pushing out of the library.

“Yep.” She takes a sip of her coffee.

“Did you have any say in who you got to work with?”

She frowns. “Of course.”

“And you chose him?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m lucky to have the opportunity to work with Dr. Alby. He’s a fantastic mentor.”

“He doesn’t give you a creeper vibe?”

Her eyes flare. “George is a good guy. Don’t be a dick.” She looks at her watch pointedly and gives me a plastic smile. “I don’t have much time, and my boss would kill me if I didn’t give you that tour you want so badly, so we’d better get moving.” She turns and walks toward the exit with the long strides of a woman on a mission. The view from back here isn’t bad at all, but I’m disturbed enough by the bad vibes from Professor Douche that I’m almost too distracted to appreciate it.

I’m quiet while I follow her out of the library. The sidewalks that were crowded with students ten minutes ago have cleared out, and with two long strides, I’ve caught up to her and am walking by her side. “You two are . . . interesting.”

She meets my eyes. “What’s interesting?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t expect someone in his position to be so territorial around you.” The answer I’m looking for is right there in the way she drops her gaze to her shoes. Shit. “You’re dating him? The hipster academic with the manbun?”

She flinches and looks around as if she’s checking to make sure no one’s overheard “Would you be quiet?”

I lower my voice and try again. “Tell me you’re not dating Professor Douche.”

“I’m not sure dating is the right word.”

I stiffen. “You’re fucking him.” My words come out a low rumble instead of the matter-of-fact statement I was aiming for. She doesn’t look at me, and I know it’s true. “You’re fucking the chair of your dissertation committee. Isn’t that . . .?”

She shoves her hands in the pockets of her coat and increases her pace. “Isn’t it what?” she asks, jaw tight, gaze straight ahead. “It’s not against any official rules, if that’s what you mean.”

Riiiiight. “Then why the secrecy?”

Her shoulders hunch around her ears. “Because it is frowned upon. I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us. People would . . . they’d make assumptions about both of us.”

“Assumptions like he’s taking advantage of you through his position.”

Stopping suddenly, she spins on me, her eyes wide. “No one coerced me into anything. I know what I’m doing.”