Page 22 of Me Three
“I-I will,” I say.
And with that, Tru turns around and saunters out of class, leaving me behind to figure out what the hell just happened.
So much for not wanting to fuck them again. If they’d bent over in front of me, I’d have gladly taken them right there and then. Why can’t I function like a normal human being when I’m horny? Why did I have to fuck things up even more by letting them dothatto me?
Carter Walker doesn’t do repeats, doesn’t fuck students, and doesn’t let students suck him off between classes.
What just happened doesn’t only complicate things further, it’s going to make it even harder to ignore what we did with Everett only two weeks ago.
And that doesn’t even take into account the fact that Everett has their number and was chatting to them all weekend. It was hard not to notice.
And that’s exactly why I don’t do repeats. Things are already getting complicated without even trying to make them so.
And I know I promised to keep things professional in the class, but how can I?
I wish we could erase that threesome from our collective memory. Then all this crap wouldn’t be happening. I wouldn’t be putting all my energy into something that could utterly destroy me, in more ways than one.
Seven
Tru
I’m so buzzed after Carter’s class my boner keeps for most of my next class and only finally goes down during lunch. That is when I start messaging Everett.
We haven’t stopped texting each other since Friday night, and I get giddy every time my phone vibrates with a new message.
You won’t guess what happened, I message him.
You blew Carter, comes the reply.
How did you know?
The marker all over his clothes.
Oops. I forgot about that. It was so hot, I tell him.
Yeah, I can imagine, he replies.
Maybe now we can convince him to do it again, I suggest, but he only replies with a “yeah” and nothing else.
“So, who are you chatting with?” Freddy asks on the other side of the table, and I roll my eyes at him.
“None of your beeswax, Freddy,” I say.
“Fine, fine,” he says, putting his hands up. “As long as you’re finally getting over those guys.”
I just smile, nod, and stuff my face with the Waldorf salad they’re serving at the cafeteria today.
When I’m done with lunch, I head over to Everett’s class and take a seat at the front.
And when he starts his lecture, all I can do is watch him, his lips, the crow’s feet on his eyes, his hands waving over his power points. He becomes alive when he talks about art. Although, to be honest, he looks passionate in everyday life, too. I’ve seen him hang out with Carter at the cafeteria before, and he's a vivid talker.
Who would expect a guy who said so little during sex and who fucked with such roughness to be such a warm-hearted man?
It’s really hard to focus on his words and not picture him in my bed. Or in his bed. Or in his living room, on his couch accompanied by Carter, two condoms, and a ton of lube.
Fuck, what’s so wrong with me that out of this town’s eligible bachelors I have to be so hung up over the two I shouldn’t?
Like, what the hell happened back in Carter’s class shouldn’t have happened. Although, am I going to sit around and pretend it wasn’t fun? Hell to the no.
