“Go ahead,” he replies, “My academic record is all yours to scrutinize.” “I don’t think it counts as scrutinizing if they’re all As.” “And one B-plus,” he corrects me, “Sophomore year. On a quiz about Wuthering Heights. In my defense though, Professor Smyth puts me right to sleep every time.” I almost chuckle – almost – before I realize he’s doing it again. Using his smile, his charm, to disarm me. And it’s working.
