His Tutor
Miranda’s foot was tapping against the tiled floor in anticipation, and she kept ringing her hands over and over again. The receptionist, a man who seemed far nicer that Cara, had asked her to wait in one of the student areas. It wasn’t far from the Professor’s offices. The space was filled with squishy chairs and beanbags, along with the normal computer desks. There was even a small kitchenet at the back wall where students could make a hot drink or microwave their food.
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