Page 8 of Break Me
“Stay.” It’s a command. He nods to my chair. Tess breathes an annoyed sigh. She actually likes English and learns as she doodles. She’s annoyed I’m interrupting her lecture time which is amusing and admirable all at once. “This once, I’ll let it slide. Don’t let it happen again.”
I want to remind him he said the same thing two days ago. But I don’t push it. Instead, I sink back into my chair and nod.
“You got it. Sir.”
* * *
Tessand I file out of class together just before noon. I nod in Dumont’s general direction, but another girl is asking him something about the final research paper—she is clearly a type of planner I will never be—and I don’t want to interfere with, you know, his actual work. Like I’m interfering with his home life.
But just as I’m about to cross the threshold of the door with Tess, he politely interrupts the girl and barks out my name.
I turn, eyeing him. Tess waits.
“I need to speak with you a moment,” Dumont says.
I adjust the strap on my backpack and nod, then look to Tess. “See you at the gym?”
We have a weekday gym date at 7:00 pm every day. We usually eat lunch together too, but clearly, Dumont has other plans for me.
She rolls her big, brown eyes, runs a hand over her chestnut hair and then nods. “Sure.”
I know she’ll spend lunch doing more doodles. She’s an artist at heart. I’m a General Studies major because I have no idea what the fuck I want to do with my life besides drown in fashion, and with my parents’ money, I don’t really have to figure it out just yet.
I swallow, hard, as I always do when I think of my parents these days. Specifically, Mom.
But I push the thought aside and take a seat on the first row, pulling out my phone while Dumont finishes up with this girl.
Text from Dad.
Why don’t you stay with Tess again tonight?
My heart clenches. He thinks I was with Tess last night. Even though I’m 22, I still live at home. My parents’ house—my childhood home—is a mansion. And there’s no way in hell I’m leaving anytime soon. Not with Mom how she is. And sure, technically speaking, I could tell my dad the truth. That I’m staying with a boy. But Briar is a small town and Dad, as mayor, is a big deal. He’d want to know what boy. And if he found out I was fucking my married professor, well...neither he nor Mom need that kind of stress.
I tell him I’ll stay with Tess. And, depending on what Dumont has to say, it might actually be true.
At long last, the girl leaves, and closes the door absentmindedly behind her. I know Dumont doesn’t have a class for another 50 minutes.
I know because yesterday we took those 50 minutes to screw each other in his office. On his desk.
I look up at him. He crosses his arms and looks down at his leather shoes. He’s 38. He does things like wear leather shoes. And a grey vest over a white, tailored shirt. He looks damn good doing it, too.
“What’s up?” I ask casually.
I see a crease between his brows, but he still doesn’t look up. “The divorce...” he trails off, then clears his throat. “It’s getting finalized. Tomorrow.”
Ohhhkayyy...
I blow out a breath. Should I feel happy? I mean, I kind of do, only so I won’t feel so guilty. But why he’s telling me like this...
“How do you feel about that?” I ask, cautiously. He still isn’t looking at me. I twirl my phone on the table, watching the pink glitter of my phone case scatter beneath the gel-like casing. At the sound, he finally looks up.
He smiles. It’s a genuine smile. “Honestly? Excited.” He takes a step toward me, away from the whiteboard at his back. I sit up a little straighter.
“Why?”
His smile widens. He has perfect, straight white teeth.
“It means you and I... We can do things...differently.”
