Page 13 of The Professor: Ep. 2
Her existence grounded me in a realistic world with potentials unlike any I’d ever experienced growing up. And I found the whole experience rather intoxicating.
Not just her, so much as this reality.
Nashville was normal and filled with everyday people doing everyday things. I longed to be like them, to exist without societal pressures or the dark-world proceedings that dictated elite culture.
It was a pipe dream on my part.
As the only progeny of Clyde Kane, I didn’t have much choice.
I would one day run Kane Corporation, whether I agreed to it or not.
And so I would just put that day off for as long as possible.
Because disappearing wasn’t an option. I’d tried and failed at that several times over. Now I was solidly in the avoiding phase, which clearly wasn’t working—hence Dustin’s visit.
“Hello, Professor.” The sultry tone didn’t match the one I wanted to hear, the owner of it a previous student who had no reservations about flirting with authority.
“Miss Anderson,” I returned.
Dustin chuckled. “So formal.” He turned toward the blonde and flashed his disarming smile at her. “Dustin McCoy.”
“Oh, I know who you are,” she replied, holding out her hand expectantly. “You and Professor Kane have quite the reputation. All you need is Julian Jovanni and Tobias Masters to show up to complete the troublesome foursome.”
“Troublesome foursome,” Dustin repeated, taking her hand to bring it to his mouth. “Well, I do approve of that nickname. How about you, Kane?”
I just rolled my eyes and pushed away from the table. “For now, it’ll just be the troublesome singleton because I’m hitting the head.” I didn’t wait to hear his rebuttal, aware that he could handle Miss Anderson just fine on his own while I relieved myself in the facilities.
Hell, he could handle the entire bar if he wanted to.
And technically, it should be a fivesome, but the tabloids never commented on the infamous Clayton Erikson. Mostly because he knew exactly how to disappear. Something I wished I could do, too.
Alas, my reputation followed me everywhere, even into academia.
I finished using the restroom and washed my hands, then stepped into the hallway just as Kayla turned the corner, her cheeks flushed. She glared at the floor, her lips moving in a low mutter of sound.
I stepped into her path mostly to entertain myself and caught her hips as she ran right into my chest.
She froze.
Like, as still as a statue.
Not even breathing.
“Kayla?” I asked, confused by her reaction. I’d expected her to jump or giggle or give me a breathy “Hello.” Not go brittle and unmoving as though my touch paralyzed her. Definitely not the response she usually gave me.
Her dark gaze darted up to mine. “Professor,” she breathed, her body seeming to melt beneath my palms.
I frowned. “Is everything all right?”
She started to shake her head, then nodded, her eyes falsely bright. “Yep. Fine. Just… just going to the, uh, bathroom.”
I arched a brow. “You sure?”
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, the agreement sounding off.
I canted my head to the side just as a male chuckle sounded down the corridor.
She stiffened in response, and I reacted without thinking, pulling her into a nearby utility closet and shutting the door behind us. “Uh,” she started, the closet pitch black.
