“Professor Myers called on me with a question about the Commerce Clause and I sounded like a complete idiot.” Her voice thickened. “He gave a speech about where we should all be at this point in the semester and suggested that if we weren’t there we should rethink law school.”

I wasn’t surprised. A lot of the professors gave speeches like that. I’d certainly heard them when I was a student. It was harsh, but this industry could be brutal. If you couldn’t handle law school, legal practice would be hell.

What did surprise me was her candor. She sounded like she needed someone to talk to, and while I doubted I was her first choice, I wasn’t going to let the opportunity to get to know her slip through my fingers.

“And that made you wonder if you should rethink law school?”

“You call on me every week, you see how lost I am. It’s like there’s something wrong with the way I think. I don’t get it the way everyone else does. I read. I outline. I have a study group. I bought the supplements. I do all the things that they told us to do at orientation and it doesn’t matter. I keep waiting for it to click and it doesn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean you should give up. And you’re not lost. Most of the time you know the answer. I don’t call on you to trip you up. You’re smart. You obviously do the work. And trust me, your professors can tell that you take school seriously and that you care about the material.”

The light changed and I turned my attention back to the road.

“It sounds like you’re having a hard time transitioning to the right mind-set, but that doesn’t mean you never will. Law school isn’t necessarily about being smart or doing the work. You’re right, there’s an art to it. Sometimes it just takes a while for it to click. What was your major in undergrad?”

“Political science.”

“Did you like it?”

She hesitated for a beat. “Yes and no. It wasn’t my first choice. My father paid for my undergrad and he wanted me to major in political science.”

“What did you want to study?”

“Public policy. It wasn’t that different; there was some overlap between the classes. And there were parts of poli sci that I liked. It just wasn’t necessarily what I would have chosen.”

“Where did you go to undergrad?”

She named a prestigious Ivy League school.

“So you’re really smart.”

She shrugged. “I went to a good high school. Did lots of extracurriculars. My parents hired a tutor for the SATs and ACTs, and I did well after taking them a few times. Law school is a whole other ball game.”

It was. It was totally different from the way you’d learned in undergrad. I’d seen it among my own classmates—students came from impressive schools and struggled for the first time in their lives. There was a certain mind-set that had nothing to do with being smart or having a strong academic record. In a way, that was what made it so challenging—you had to retrain you brain.

“And law school? How did that fit in?”

“It didn’t really.” She stiffened. “My father thought it would be a good idea.”

“So law school was his idea, too.”

“Kind of. I think he had visions of his daughter going to Yale or something, but my LSATs weren’t high enough. Plus, I applied really late. Fortunately, I’d taken them my senior year just to keep my options open. I didn’t have time for a retest.”

“And what did you want?”

“I don’t know. Nothing has ever jumped out at me and said, this.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know,” she answered again.

“Do you even want to be an attorney?”

“Maybe. I thought I did before I came to law school. But now? I don’t really see myself going into private practice. I don’t think I love it enough to make it my life, to get in the race to bill like crazy so I can make partner.” She was quiet for a second. “I want to have a family one day. Want to be the mom that goes to school plays and chaperones field trips. I want to work, but I want to be there for those moments, too. Maybe there’s a balance there. I just haven’t seen it.”

“There are other things you can do with a law degree, you know. You don’t have to go into private practice. You could work in nonprofit management, for example. Or a government agency. Even corporate law can have a slower pace. You have a ton of options. Just get through exams, see how you feel next semester. And when you get a chance to take elective courses in your second year, look at some nontraditional classes. There’s a public law class that you might enjoy. Another one on nonprofit organizations. A few advocacy clinics that would give you some hands-on experience.”

She nodded. “I could do that.”

“Have you been going to the tutoring sessions?”

Each of the core courses had tutoring sessions taught by second and third-year students who had received the highest grades when they’d taken the subject in their first year.

“I have. They help a bit, but I think I need something a little more hands-on. I’ll start to get the concept, but by then everyone else is moving on. I’ve thought about asking someone to tutor me one-on-one, but I haven’t found anyone yet.”

“Try me.” The offer slipped out before I even thought about the logistics.

“Are you serious?”

“Why not? I have office hours; students ask me questions all the time. It’s been five years, so I don’t remember everything from my law school days, but I remember enough. Ask me about the Commerce Clause.”

“You’re going to help me with con law?”

I looked away from the road and flashed her a grin. “We’ve got another half hour to go.”

Sitting next to her in the car was torture. Absolute fucking torture. At least this would keep me from thinking of how badly I wanted to get her naked.

Nothing deflated a hard-on faster than the Commerce Clause.

Blair

By the time we arrived at the middle school, I somewhat understood Article 1, Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution. Also known as the dreaded Commerce Clause. I’d also learned that while he wasn’t necessarily patient in class, Gray could be patient when he wanted to be. And surprisingly kind. He didn’t mock me when I stumbled over a concept or got confused. He explained things carefully and clearly, and slowly it started to make sense.

He was also crazy smart. And I only thought about kissing him every minute or so.

“Why aren’t you like this in class?” I asked as he pulled the SUV into the school parking lot.

“Like what?”

“Easy to talk to.”

“Are any of your professors easy to talk to?”

I considered this. None were as intimidating as him, but they all did have an air of aloofness about them.

“Fair enough.”

“We’ve all been where you guys are now. We get it. But trust me, if you think this is brutal, wait until a judge chews your ass out in front of opposing counsel. Or you fuck up a brief you’re preparing for a senior partner. There’s an element of hazing here, but it’s necessary. This profession can be soul-crushing.”

“And yet, you love it, don’t you?”

He grinned. “I do.”

There was a passion that shone through his eyes that he didn’t share in class. I was pretty sure if he did, the girls would be whipped into a frenzy. Graydon Canter passionate about something was sexy as hell.

If he ever gave that to a woman, she’d be the luckiest woman in the world.

“You should be like this in class. I understand if you have to keep your intimidating persona to hold on to your professor street rep”—his lips twitched—“but it would be cool if you shared your experiences practicing law with the class. Just now you talked about the law like it was a living, breathing entity, something you loved. You should do that in class.

“I know we’re supposed to be constantly on our guard and ready to be ripped to shreds”—he let out a shout of laughter—“but it would be nice to see the light at the end of the tunnel. There’s not a whole lot of inspiration to be found briefing cases. It would help to see that we have something to look forward to. That we have a chance to make a difference.”