The doors at the base of the lecture hall swing open, interrupting my thoughts. The man who enters the room needs no introduction, yet he still approaches the podium and greets us as if none of us have ever picked up a fashion magazine.

“Good morning! I’m Erik Laurie and I’m sorry to inform you that you will be enduring my unbearable presence for the next four months.”

Laughter ripples through the hall.

“Just joshing,” he says with a hearty chuckle. “I’m a fucking delight.”

I smile along with everyone else in the room. He’s establishing himself as the cool, fun prof right off the bat. I like that. He also looks a lot younger than his photos. Possibly because he usually sports a thick blond beard in those pictures, and today he’s completely clean-shaven, revealing the baby face underneath.

I know he’s in his mid-thirties, though. And his fashion sense is so on point I almost purr out loud. The clothes are Marc Jacobs—I recognize the retro blazer from Marc’s fall collection. The shoes…Tom Ford, I think. I’d have to get a closer look to be sure.

“Welcome to the History of Fashion, ladies and gentlemen.”

His voice is smooth and velvety, turning every girl’s face into a real-life heart-eyes emoji. For some reason, he doesn’t have the same effect on me. Objectively, Laurie is an attractive man, but something about his angular, symmetrical face doesn’t do it for me.

Our new professor doesn’t miss the female attention he’s garnering. He winks at two girls in the front row as he rests his forearms on the podium. For the next ten minutes, he lists his impressive credentials, not revealing anything I didn’t already know.

He’s had an insanely prolific career for his relatively young age, and it’s evident he has a genuine passion for what he does. When he’s done reciting his résumé, he talks about what we can expect from his course. We’ll be examining the global influence of fashion, how it’s taken shape over the years, and how certain eras and historical events have impacted the concept and implementation of style.

Laurie has a way of speaking that captures your attention. He tells us that rather than a formal lecture, today he just wants to “chat” about why we love fashion and who inspires us. He kicks it off by confessing that his idol growing up was Ralph Lauren, then proceeds to spend five full minutes fan-girling about Lauren.

After he’s done, he passes the torch to us. Bushy Eyebrows, who introduces himself as Ben, surprises me by proclaiming his love for Versace. Judging by his hobo-chic style, I would’ve pegged him as an Alexander McQueen enthusiast. But Ben goes on and on about Versace until our prof finally grins and asks for another volunteer.

Since I’ve never had any problems speaking in class, I raise my hand.

Laurie studies me from the podium. “And your name is?”

“It’s Summer.”

“No, sweetheart, it’s winter. Have you not looked outside?”

Nora and her friends titter behind their hands. A few other students giggle as well. Me, I roll my eyes, an action that brings another grin to Laurie’s face.

“Get that joke a lot, eh?” He waves a hand. “All right. Tell us who inspires you.”

I answer without hesitation. “Chanel.”

“Ah, yes.” He nods his approval. “Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel. Also known as Coco. Do you know how she got the nickname, Winter?”

Cue more giggles.

I’m not sure how I feel about Professor Comedian, especially since he keeps flipping between two personalities. One second he’s suave and confident, the next he’s Mr. I’m Just Gonna Crack Jokes Because I’m One of You!

It’s disorienting.

“She got the nickname when she was a cabaret singer,” I answer. “She tried to make a go of it as an actress, failed, and went into fashion.”

“Finding unimaginable success,” he concludes.

“That’s one of the reasons I love her. When her original plans fell through, she didn’t give up. She chose a different path, succeeded, and became an icon. Her brand has been around for nearly a century. It survived the Second World War—”

“Yeah, because she was a Nazi collaborator,” Nora pipes up in a snide voice.

I ball my fists and press them to my thighs. Is she for real right now? Interrupting me so she can insult a fashion legend?

“And you are?” Laurie prompts.

“Nora Ridgeway.” She shrugs. “And it’s common knowledge that Chanel was shady. Documents that were recently declassified speculate her wartime activities were downright despicable.”

Our professor does not disagree. “Yes, that is what’s being alleged. And when she reentered the fashion world after the war, there was indeed a lot of anger about these claims. Yet the brand recovered.” He tips his head. “Why do we think that is, Summer?”

“Because…she…” I bite my lip in thought. “Because she was fashion. She pioneered the little black dress, for Pete’s sake. People accused her of being too conservative, but honestly I think she revolutionized the industry. She showed the world that fashion isn’t just about wearing a nice dress or tailored suit to a dinner party—it’s a way of life.” I pause, scanning my memory. “There was this famous quote of hers about how fashion is everywhere—‘It’s in the sky and in the streets, it’s in how we live and what we do.’ That’s a philosophy I believe in.”

He nods. Many of my classmates are nodding too. Nora, however, scowls at me over her shoulder and then stiffly faces the room again.

Whatever. I don’t care if she doesn’t like me. She tried to make me look like a fool for respecting Chanel, and it backfired on her. Tough shit.

“Very well said,” Laurie tells me before sweeping his gaze over the room. “Who’s next? I want to know who inspires you.”

The next hour flies by, and I’m less than thrilled when we’re dismissed. I was dreading this moment, even more so now because I know I impressed Erik Laurie. I really don’t want him to lose all that good will toward me when I tell him about my learning issues.

As I navigate the aisle, I hear Nora speaking to her friend. “I’ll meet you outside. I want to tell him what a huge fan I am.”

Oh great. Now if I go talk to him, Nora will think I’m trying to one-up her.

“Summer,” Laurie calls from the front of the room. “A quick word?”

Okay. At least it doesn’t look like I’m the one initiating the contact.

But I think this might be worse.

Nora stops in her tracks. Her eyes burn into my back like hot coals as I hurriedly descend the steps.

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” Smiling, he extends a hand.

I give it a shake. “Nice to meet you too, Professor Laurie.”

“Call me Erik.”

“Oh. Um. We might need to work up to that. I feel weird first-naming authority figures.”

He chuckles. “Fair enough. How about Mr. L until you warm up to Erik?” He winks at me, and his tone holds a flirtatious note, but I’m starting to think this is just him being friendly. I saw him winking at several other girls throughout the lecture.

“Mr. L, it is.” I hesitate, readying myself for the awkward part. “I don’t know if you had a chance to speak to Mr. Richmond. He’s serving as my academic advisor this year.”

“I did, actually. Rest assured, he advised me about your learning difficulties, and I do plan on sitting down with you to discuss it further. But we’ll need to do that during office hours.” He studies me for a moment. “I was impressed with you this morning. You’re a very eloquent speaker.”

“And a very terrible writer.”

“Hey, you could say that about plenty of individuals. And there are ways around it. Like I said, we’ll talk during office hours, but I do believe I can make alternate arrangements for you. Perhaps a lower word count for the midterm, supplemented by an oral element?”

A tiny smile lifts the corners of his mouth at the word oral. I know he’s referring to an oral presentation, but the accompanying smile triggers my ick meter. Either he’s skirting a dangerous line between his authority and his female students, or he’s just overly friendly. I really hope it’s the latter.

“You can check the department website for my availability, but I think the sooner we sit down and hammer this out, the better.”

“I agree.”

He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “And, please, continue to speak out in class the way you did today. I appreciate students who are as passionate as I am about this topic.”

Another wink.

Or maybe he’s not winking, and that’s just his eye? Is there a possibility that this is how he blinks, one eye at a time? I have no clue, and I don’t care to find out. Nora is still glaring at me. And Laurie is still holding my hand.

I awkwardly slide my palm out of his grip. “I’ll do my best. And I’ll check your office hours when I get home. Thanks, sir—I mean, Mr. L.”

“That’s better.”

He winks. Or blinks. Who the fuck knows.

I practically sprint toward the exit, ignoring Nora’s thunderous expression.