Page 7 of Break Me
Two
Professor Dumont is goingto kill me. Fall classes just started, and it’s going to be my second day being late.
Because of that asshole in the Mercedes.
I’m supposed to graduate in December. Or rather, I was supposed to graduate in July, but since I flunked last semester entirely, it got moved back.
And Dumont will not care about my near altercation. Dumont doesn’t care about anything except what’s in between my legs and even that won’t let me get away with a damn thing. If anything, it makes shit worse.
I know I’m in deep when I get to the door and it’s locked. I try to catch a kid’s eye beyond the small pane of glass, but literally everyone—male and female alike—is staring at Dumont.
I’m unsurprised. But annoyed. A little jealous. I’m under no illusion that what happens with me and Dumont is exclusive or even anything remotely resembling feelings, but still...I was in his bed last night and now I’m locked outside of his classroom and when I finally get in, he’s going to reprimand me in front of everyone. It’s the only thing I can think of to explain my jealousy. The only thing I want it to mean.
I sigh, pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, and then knock on the damn door before I lose my nerve.
It’s not that I’m afraid of Dumont. It’s just...it’s been a long morning. And the asshole in the Mercedes with the nice eyes is actually the least of my concern.
I see everyone look toward the door. No one moves. I angle my head, trying to find my best friend, Tess. Because it seems like exactly no one is coming to the door.
I can’t hear Dumont speaking, but everyone is still looking at me, which I assume means he’s trying to punish me.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment, which isn’t my style. I loathe being embarrassed and I rarely ever am. But this asshole...
Tess’s face looms into view and she frowns at me but yanks the door open. Behind her, I hear Dumont sighing.
“Ms. Marshal,” he’s saying to Tess, “I specifically told you not to open the door.”
Tess rolls her eyes, shrugs. “Glad you made it,” she whispers to me. I nod, close the door behind me, and follow her curvy figure back up the steps of the stadium-style lecture hall. All eyes are on us.
I make sure to meet them. As many as I can. Dumont might embarrass me, but I’ll be damned if they all cow me. I’m Ava Culwen. I don’t get cowed.
I slip into the seat behind Tess, who picks up her pen and immediately starts doodling in the margins of her notebook. I’m not sure why she stays in the margins. She doesn’t even take notes. She doesn’t need to. Unlike me, she has a photographic memory. She’s graduating in December too. A year ahead of schedule.
I’m 22. She’s 20. We grew up in the same neighborhood. We’re best friends. Some days, I loathe her intelligence. Because I’m a jealous bitch. Which is why, even though I’m about to get humiliated in front of this senior English class, I kind of don’t care. At least its attention Dumont is showering me with, not anyone else.
Even if it’s the bad kind.
“Ms. Culwen, nice of you to finally join us.”
And now I have to look at him. I meet his gaze and smile, thinking of his head between my legs last night. He adjusts his Prada glasses as I hold his stare, and I’m delighting in the fact that I’m unnerving him for once.
He clears his throat. “You know the rule, though, Ms. Culwen.”
I lean forward, prop my fist under my chin. “Which one, Dr. Dumont?” I sigh. “You have so very many.” I flutter my lashes and there’s a snicker among the class.
Beside me, I can basically hear Tess rolling her eyes. She knows about us. She knows everything about me. She doesn’t approve. Which is unsurprising. Tess is smart. What I’m doing is not smart.
Not only is Dr. Dumont my professor, he’s still legally married. Legally, even though his wife moved out. Even though sometimes they try to work things out. Even though he’s still in love with her. Even though he almost called me by her name the last time I gave him a blowjob.
“The one about if you’re a minute late, you forfeit the lecture.” His jaw ticks and he runs a hand through his black hair, then clasps his hands behind his back. He’s tall and lean, and for some reason I think of the asshole in the Mercedes. He was bigger. More muscular. He had tattoos. Dr. Dumont is polished. Mercedes Asshole was…rough around the edges.
Although why the fuck I care...I don’t. I keep my gaze on Dumont’s.
“I apologize, sir.” I can’t stop my smirk, but God I try. I see Dumont’s lips twitch into a smile but he, unlike me, is successful in holding it back.
I stand up, grab my white Alexander Wang backpack. “I’ll go.”
He frowns, arching a brow and shaking his head as if what he’s going to say next is nearly painful.
