Page 14 of Damaged Professor

“I’m thinking.”

“Yeah, but you aren’t actually saying anything. Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Because… You just said that you couldn’t see this guy,” says Nichole. “That he can’t be caught seeing a student.”

I don’t get what the emphasis is for. “Yeah, that’s because he can’t. It’s going to make people think that he’ll pass anyone who gets with him. That’s gotta be hugely frowned on. I know that it’s different from seeing like, your twelfth-grade teacher or something, but it’s still—"

“Abby,” says Nichole. She reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Abby, stop. You aren’t listening to yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nichole lets out a heavy breath, then she gets up and shuts off the galaxy light. “Come on.”

She holds out her hands.

Confused, I take them.

Nichole pulls me to my feet and then leads me down the hall and into the kitchen. She has a very small house that she pays way too much money for, but it’s within walking distance from the college so she swears that it’s worth it.

She pulls a six pack of lime beer out of the fridge and sets it down on the small, whitewashed table. A moment later, there’s an open bottle of cold beer in my hand.

Nichole takes a long swig from her own bottle, and then tells me, “Do you know why professors get in trouble?”

“For—”

Nichole interrupts me, “For fucking their students.”

My mouth snaps shut, and my lips tighten into a thin line. “That’s exactly what I just said.”

“No.” Nichole rocks close to me. When she speaks next, she keeps her words slow, as if she thinks that it might be hard for me to understand. “You said that he can’t see you. As in, dating you.”

Quickly, I backpedal, “That’s not what I meant!”

“That’s exactly what you meant,” says Nichole. “Otherwise, you would have come in here complaining about how much you wished that he could fuck you again. Instead, you said that you couldn’t see him.”

“It’s—”

Nichole throws one arm around me, pulling me into a hug. “It’s okay to have a thing for him, Abby.”

I bite my lower lip. “I—I don’t know.”

“James would want you to be happy,” says Nichole, softly. There’s a tenderness to her voice that isn’t usually there.

“I know,” I say, my tone just as quiet. “I just... I’m not sure. I thought that a one-night stand would be a good way to jump back into things. Something without any commitment.”

I pull away from Nichole and drop down into one of the chairs. The beer bottle, still full, clunks down onto the table. Instead, I press my palm against my eyes and groan.

Nichole sits too. “Well, if you're not sure, there’s no reason to think about him. It’s too much hassle given the situation.” She finishes off her beer and then picks up my bottle, taking a sip from it. “But if you do have a thing for him…”

I peek at her through my fingers, waiting for her to go on.

“That sucks,” says Nichole, softly. “There’s not too much to tell you beyond that.”

For a little bit, we just sit there working at the beer. Eventually, the pack gets brought into the living room with us, and Nichole puts on a movie. Neither of us is paying it a lick of attention, so it’s not a surprise when twenty minutes in, Nichole snatches the remote back up and mutes it.

Then she says, “Alright, so what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m not going to do anything about it,” I tell her. I’ve resigned to that. “He’s my professor. He made it a point to tell me we can’t see each other again. And sure, I could get over the fact that he’s my teacher, in fact let's be real—it’s what romance movies are made of. But I don’t want to be the reason that he loses tenure or something.”

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