Page 20 of Damaged Professor

The comment has me laughing. Some of the tension wound up in my chest vanishes. Even more of it slides away when another round of drinks is delivered to the both of us. “It’s nothing like that. You’re right. I’m a college professor. And she’s one of my students. I didn’t realize it when we met, mind you. I wouldn’t have made a pass at her if I had. But then the new semester started, and she ended up being in my class and—”

I cut myself off with a frustrated noise, raking one hand through my hair. Then I let my palm slide down over my face, blunt nails scraping over the skin above my eye.

“I think that I’ve made a huge mistake with all this,” I say, letting out a sigh.

Maxine reaches out, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Honey, I have been there. Sometimes you pick someone up because they’re nice to look at, and the next thing you know, they’re the ones signing your paycheck.”

“At least I’m not the only one,” I grumble, strangely put at ease by that. I glance at her from the corner of my eyes, and then snort out hard through my nose again.

“Is she making it difficult?” Maxine asks. “There’s nothing worse than someone who doesn’t understand it was supposed be a one-night fuck. And they are coming around and flirting with you, coming at you from all angles. It’s a pain in the ass. Like honey, I already told you that it’s not happening.”

“No, that’s not it. This might have been easier if Abby was being more difficult about it.” I give one more frustrated groan and then sit up straight again, finally pulling my hand away from my face.

Maxine doesn’t say anything. For a while, we just sit there in silence, sipping at our drinks. Then she finally tells me, “So the problem is you.”

“I guess so… If we weren’t in this situation, I would do almost anything to give it a real go with her. Not just another night together but something else, something real.” I explain. “And every day, I have to go into that classroom and look at her, knowing that I can’t touch her. I can’t tell her how amazing she looks, or how much I want to take her out to eat somewhere.”

Maxine sits there and listens to me talk, listens to me tell her all about Abby. And the more I talk, the more the words burn themselves into the back of my tongue. Is it just rambling because I’ve had more to drink than I normally do?

Maybe.

Or maybe it’s the truth spurred on by a slightly loosened tongue.

Whatever the case, Maxine lets me talk. I buy her more to drink, and by the time that the night is over and done with, I know that there’s no way for me to ignore Abby for long.

Something has to give.

I think it’s going to end up being my resolve.

Chapter eleven

Abby

Dylan.

Handsome, intelligent, passionate Dylan.

I love the way that he talks, the way that he moves, the way that he holds himself. And the way that he commands the attention of everyone in the class, even those who clearly don’t care.

And when I finally manage to get him out of my mind, it’s time for class again, and there he is.

My notes end up lacking. I’m paying attention to him… but I have a hard time putting it down on paper. I’ll have to snag notes from someone else later. Daisy, maybe. For now, when the bell rings signaling the end of the class, I start gathering everything up like the rest of the students.

“Alright, I know that it’s the start of the weekend, but you need to make time to get that essay written. Avery, don’t worry, I know that you’ve requested that extension,” says Dylan. “I hope your mother feels better and that you’re back in class soon.”

Avery, a skinny girl with big glasses, flashes him a smile and some muttered thanks before ducking out of the room. Then another student approaches his desk. She’s tall and skinny, with short dark brown hair, and so many freckles on her face it’s hard to make out the shade of her blush. She always dresses in short skirts and tall socks, and these baggy sweaters that hang down over the curve of her knuckles. I can’t hear what she asks but he dismisses her quickly. Instead of leaving though, she turns her head in my direction. If looks could kill… She throws her bag over her shoulder and leaves. The other students start to mill out and I join them. Before I can get out of the class, though, Dylan says, “Actually, Abby, can you wait for a moment?”

“Uh, sure?” I pause, looking around. He doesn’t ask anyone else to stay after class. I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with the last paper that I turned in. I stand there waiting for the other students to file out. A few of them shoot me sympathetic looks, clearly thinking that I’ve been pulled aside for a bad grade or something similar.

It’s not until the last student has stepped out of the room that Dylan gives me a little, nervous sort of smile. “Just a moment.”

He steps around me and then closes the door. The heavy oak wood clicks shut. “Okay, wow. Am I flunking out of the class or something?”

Dylan gives me an odd look. “What? God, no!” He waves a hand at the door. “It’s nothing like that. I just wanted to speak to you in private for a moment.”

My heart skips a beat. “In private, huh? Well, you’ve got that. So, if I’m not in trouble for something… What’s going on, professor?”

He makes a face. “We’re alone. You don’t need to call me that.”

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