“Cheyenne.” The professor gazed at her and smiled. “I see the wheels turning, and that one non-word says a lot. What’s wrong?”
The half-drow stuck out her bottom lip and shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong. I…expected something else.”
“You mean, like a sweet setup and a bunch of cool new tech funded by the money this school doesn’t have for its IT professors?” Bergmann laughed and stood, shuffling papers around before lifting herself enough to sit on the corner of the desk this time. “Turns out, I’m a regular professor with a regular office. Sorry to disappoint.”
Cheyenne shrugged.
The room fell silent, and the older woman let out a patient sigh. “I’m glad you came. That’s what I’m here for. I still can’t help but ask why you came, though.”
With raised eyebrows, Cheyenne stepped toward her professor’s desk and stopped to look at the degrees and awards and plaques hanging on the office walls. “I still can’t help but ask what you meant by ‘controlling the parts of me I don’t want anyone else to see.’”
Bergmann’s eyes narrowed above a coy smile. “That’s a very good question. I’m more than willing to answer it, and whatever other questions you might have that aren’t so…academically focused, but I need you to do one thing for me first.”
“What?”
“Shut the door, please.”
Holding the woman’s gaze, Cheyenne lowered her backpack to the floor beside the bench along the wall. She turned and shut the door with a soft click.
“Well, at least we know you can be gentle. With doors, at least.” The professor chuckled at her own joke and gestured toward two narrow armchairs at the far end of her office. “Come take a seat, and we’ll talk.”
“I’m good right here.” Cheyenne folded her arms and studied the woman’s inquisitive smile.
“In case you decide I’m full of it and want to make a quick escape, huh?”
“More like in case I fall asleep in one of those chairs.”
“You know, I have a hard time believing you weren’t able to get enough sleep. How old are you? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?” Bergmann wagged a finger at her and went to sit in an armchair. “And don’t tell me you spent all night drinking. From where I was sitting last night, you looked very awake.”
Cheyenne’s stomach lurched. “What did you say?”
“In the bar. With that friend of yours, right? The blonde girl in the leather jacket.” Bergmann crossed one leg over the other in the armchair, pulling the edges of her tie-dyed skirt out from under her before letting it fall around her thighs again. “You’re not gonna try to tell me that wasn’t you, are you? That would be boring, and we both know I’m smarter than that.”
With a quick glance at the closed office door, Cheyenne stepped hesitantly across the office toward the armchairs. “You were at Gnarly’s last night?”
“One of my favorite awful places. You bet.” Bergmann winked. “I was there. I saw you and your little bottle-crushing trick. I’m sure it was a mistake, but it caught my attention. We don’t see too many halflings these days. Or ever.”
Cheyenne’s jaw clenched and unclenched as she tried to process what this woman was saying. “Next you’re gonna be asking if you can touch my ears.”
“Cheyenne—”
“Yeah, this was a mistake. I gotta go.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re the second person who’s called me that in the last twenty-four hours. The first person got shot in the stomach, so it’s safer for you if I head out.” Cheyenne scooped her backpack up. This was a stupid idea. I can’t get into this now.
“Cheyenne!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be in class on Thursday, and we can pretend I’m learning something. No problem.” She wrapped her hand around the doorknob, and a spark of silver light burst beneath her fingers and crackled across the door. Cheyenne jerked her hand away from the electric jolt and stared at the smoking metal doorknob.
She turned around. “What was that?”
“You tell me.”
Cheyenne’s grip tightened on the strap of her backpack, and she stepped away from the door. “I didn’t have to come to your office if I wanted to answer my own questions.”
The professor’s smile bloomed, and her hazel eyes danced with a light that wasn’t the reflection of the track lighting. It looked more predatory than Cheyenne wanted to admit.
“Okay, look.” Bergmann folded her hands in her lap and raised her eyebrows. “I told you to stop by, and I meant what I said. We already established you don’t need my help with your classes or anything I could offer you toward your next degree, which I sense you’ll earn. But I would like to cut the shit on this other topic because what you came to my office to talk about is a lot more important than a piece of paper saying you’ve played the game of higher education. Got it?”
A chuckle of surprise burst through Cheyenne’s lips. “That was magic.”
“Yes. It was. Wanna ask me what kind?”
“Honestly?” Cheyenne dropped her backpack and headed toward the armchair and her computer programming professor. “I want you to tell me what you think you know about me.”
“Sure, let’s cut to the chase. After I tell you to call me Mattie.”
“Mattie.”
Bergmann cocked her head. “Matilda’s a name better suited for a cat lady. Or a crone sitting around playing knucklebones with her—” The woman stopped when she noticed Cheyenne’s disbelieving frown and waved her last thought aside. “Never mind. Just Mattie.”
“Sure.”
“And take a seat.”
Cheyenne pressed her lips together and lowered herself into the narrow chair across from her professor. “Ready when you are. Mattie.”
“Perfect.” The woman grinned and relaxed. “Now, please tell me you weren’t serious about walking out.”
The only reply Cheyenne gave was a twitch of her head—it felt too heavy to shake any more—as she squinted and chewed the
