Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 91

Good,” I mutter to myself, flipping my notebook shut. “Useless anyway.”

Except…he was supposed to help me with this damn question, and now I’m staring at it like it’s written in another language. After what feels like ten minutes of mental torture, I sigh, pushing my hair back. That’s when I notice movement near the back shelves where we have a smaller library. Professor Hill. He’s pacing down one side of the room, books in hand, his dark coat trailing just enough to make him look even more foreboding than usual. I hesitate; every student knows better than to bother Hill unless they want their soul examined under a microscope, but I need help.

“Sir?” I call softly, stepping closer.

He stops, slow and deliberate, and turns. The moment his storm-grey eyes land on me, I wish I could take the words back. They darken, sharp and unreadable, a silent weight pressing down on me until I actually take a step back. My throat goes dry.

“Miss Rivers,” he says in that deep, measured tone that feels like it can peel away your thoughts. “To what do I owe this…interruption?”

Oh, perfect. I’ve just volunteered myself for public execution.

I muster up every single ounce of courage I have and stutter out, “I… need help with a question, and my tutor just left me to go fuck some blonde bimbo.”

For a second, I swear I see Professor Hill blink, not in shock, but in that slow, did-she-just-say-that-to-me kind of way that makes my

stomach twist.

“I” I start again, realising exactly what just came out of my mouth, “I mean, not literally fuck, probably, but maybe? I don’t know, he

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