Page 81 of Our Secret to Keep

He hesitates, gripping the partially open door. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Please.”

He scans the hallway and opens the door wider. “Get in here before someone sees you.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” I say as he leads me to the two chairs in front of his desk.

“I figured as much.”

The room is sparse, save for diplomas on the wall and a pinboard behind his desk covered with papers. My eyes sweep over his undergrad and J.D. degrees from Kingston University. He must be a hometown boy.

“My friend got accepted to Kingston Law,” I tell him, eyes moving from the law degree to his face. “Would you recommend it?”

He nods. “Yes, but that’s not why you’re here. So, why don’t you tell me what I can do for you.”

“Um.” I bite my lip and sit when he moves behind his desk. “I was hoping you could help me with something. It’s kind of personal.”

“River,” he says in an authoritative tone. “You’re my student.”

Dropping my backpack to the floor, I hold his steely gaze. “I need a friend, not a professor.”

Professor West leans back in the leather chair and sighs. “That’s highly inappropriate, given our previous encounter.”

“Don’t talk to me like a child,” I say, annoyed by his attitude. “I came here because I wanted to talk to another gay man. And because…”

“What is it?”

“Nate,” I mutter, anxiety clawing at my throat. “My best friend.”

“Okay,” he says, confused. “I don’t understand how I can help you with Nate. He’s also my student.”

“Nate is a sex addict.”

There, I said it.

The weight rolls off my shoulders. Even if only for a moment, it feels good to tell someone.

“And I enable him.”

He continues staring, nibbling on his bottom lip, unsure how to answer.

What is there to say?

What did I expect?

I needed to unburn myself, and now that I have, I can breathe easier.

“We’ve been having threesomes and orgies for almost eight years.” When his eyes widen, I continue spilling my darkest secrets. “But he’s getting worse… and I think he might like me back. I don’t know. Maybe not. He’s an addict. Sex is only sex to him. Every time something happens between us, he says he’s not gay. Like he’s trying to remind me what I feel isn’t real.”

“Wow,” Professor West mouths, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah.” Shoving my fingers through my hair, I blow out a deep breath. “I’m fucked, right?”

“I don’t know.” He leans forward, the chair creaking beneath his weight, and folds his hands on the desk. “It’s hard to say without knowing anything about you or Nate. If he’s a sex addict?—”

“He is. We’re seeing a therapist.”

“That’s pretty serious, River. I don’t see how I can help you with this. It’s not my area of expertise.”

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