He found a space along the rail and leaned against it. Framed by the ocean behind him, Flint almost looked at ease. "Hell, no," escaped from him.
Vacations and Flint? Oil and water. Normally. There was a pause as his look grew thoughtful, as he considered how to phrase what he was thinking. "Colleagues," he explained ruefully, "Thought I needed it."
To say the least. While not officially taking credit for entering him in the contest, Flint was astute enough to pick up on the signs from the psychology department at Goucher College. Oh, they'd done this to him, all right, and Rick's gift of the journal had been proof positive for the introverted adjunct professor. They wanted him to get out of his shell, believed that would make him a better teacher, and thought that if he wrote down the experience it would help him in the future. Flint supposed they were right.