Eighty-one percent. Not enough, with his previous marks, to average the grade he needed.

Liam had meant to study more, truly he had. But Riley had invited him to play frisbee before dinner, and then at dinner Clara had asked if they wanted to watch a movie, and then Clara and her roommate Yuliya wanted to go for ice cream in the student center and they had all hung out talking for a while. But he had studied for a couple hours after that. Okay, an hour. Maybe a little less. Liam had fallen asleep. Probably he should have studied at his desk instead of in bed.

Liam chewed his lip. Would Professor Levin be contemptuous if Liam went to talk to him? Angry? Or worse ... disappointed?

He would help Liam, though, he was almost certain. Almost. Liam squirmed a little, thinking about Levin’s judgmental gaze. About being swatted. About the things Liam had imagined last time he was in the professor’s office.

Now he was sweating. Liam took the long way around the building before heading inside, trying to calm down so that he wouldn’t say anything embarrassing. More embarrassing. Admitting to not studying was going to be uncomfortable enough.

This time another student was taking advantage of office hours, and Liam had to wait

Waiting and imagining what Professor Levin would have to say was torture, in a not entirely unpleasant way. What if ... No, that was a ridiculous thought. Of course Professor Levin wouldn’t spank him. What if Professor Levin said he was bad? No, he wouldn’t say that. He might imply it, though. That would be awful.

Professor Levin’s office hours were technically over by the time Bridget emerged. She closed the door behind her and stalked past Liam without looking at him. Liam hesitated for a minute, then hesitantly tapped on the door.

“Yes,” came the impatient summons.

Liam crept in, crushed by shame.

“Office hours are over,” Levin said, glancing up.

Liam felt hot and cold and slightly nauseated. “I was waiting. I mean, I was here before they were over. Sir. Can’t I please ...?”

Levin crooked a finger at him. “Stop dancing on the doorstep and come in.”

Liam came in, shutting the door behind him. “Sorry, sir.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Um. I didn’t do as well on that test as I hoped.”

“No? Did you study?”

“Yes.” Professor Levin’s dark eyes speared him. “Some. A little.”

Levin sighed. “If you aren’t trying, why should I help you?”

“I am! I’m trying to try!”

Levin rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Trying to try? How does that work?”

Liam deflated. “I meant to try. I wanted to be good for you. I mean, in your class.”

“So why didn’t you? It obviously isn’t that the material is too difficult.”

“I don’t know. I just can’t make myself. I never had the chance to do what I wanted before, and I know getting good grades is more important, but when I have to choose every day, I just ... want to have fun. Sometimes.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Liam blinked. “Ye-yeah? Do you? I mean, is it hard to make yourself study instead of ... whatever?”

“Sometimes. Certainly sitting through faculty meetings causes me to question my life choices,” Levin said drily. “However, I did study and I did get straight As and I am now your professor. And as your professor I’m informing you that you need to work harder if you want to retain your scholarship. Doctor Bouvier says the same.”

Liam felt a flash of warmth. He couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or embarrassment. Maybe both. “You talked to Doctor Bouvier about me?”