Page 6 of Beautiful Trauma
Desire, terror, confusion, and elation were some of the terms tossed out there by my classmates. Ezra didn’t just let them shout out the emotions without them addressing what part of the human sexuality spectrum they related it to. I was one of only a few who didn’t raise their hand and comment—partly because I was nervous and partly because I was just so fascinated by how freely the students around me spoke their thoughts and feelings on the matter.
Before I knew it, Ezra was wrapping up the class and reiterating the assigned reading listed in our syllabus. I knew I should pack my backpack and leave, but Ezra’s presence pulled me to the front of the class like a moth to a flame.
Ezra’s eyes darted to mine then back away as he watched the students shuffling out. “Is the class not to your liking, Mr. Sullivan?” Ezra asked, sounding stiff and formal.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw the remaining few stragglers slowly meandering toward the exits. “No, sir, that’s not the issue.”
The door closing behind the last student sounded loud and definite. Ezra turned his dark gaze back on me raising an elegant brow in silent question.
I glanced over my shoulder again to make sure we were truly alone. “Is this too awkward for you? Would you like me to drop the class?”
“Why would I find this awkward or want you to drop the class?”
“Um, because you and I… We—” Shit. Maybe he hadn’t remembered me after all. Maybe the recognition I saw in his eyes was just wishful thinking on my part. The guy was sexy as fuck and probably picked up a new guy or two every weekend. Who could keep all the names and faces straight?
“We met at a club, hooked up, and went our separate ways the next morning. I wasn’t your professor then, so we didn’t break any rules. It doesn’t bother me, and I hope it doesn’t bother you.” Ezra made it sound like it was no big deal he’d made me come five times during three rounds of sex. He wasn’t affected by our night together and couldn’t see why I would be either. He had no idea he haunted my dreams every single night, nor would he ever find out.
I straightened my spine, squared my shoulders, and said, “Of course not.”
“So, you’ll stay then?”
“Yeah. The class was fascinating, and I enjoyed it.”
“Are you sure? You were pretty quiet,” Ezra countered.
“I grew up in a strict, religious home where discussing sexuality was forbidden. I’ve only been free of the oppressive environment for ten months, so I’m still not up to speed with everyone else.”
“You’ll get there, Mr. Sullivan. I have every confidence in you.”
“Thank you, Dr. Meyer.”Ezra! Yes, Ezra!I nearly choked when the memory of my last climax came to me without warning. I started walking backward. “I’ll see you later.”
“In two days,” Ezra said, a wry smile tugging the corner of his lip. Had he known what I was thinking?
“Uh-huh. Yep.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Goodnight, Ez—Dr. Meyer.” My eyes widened over my near slip, and my face reddened. “Sorry,” I quickly said then turned and got out of there before I said or did something else to make a bigger fool of myself.
I kept walking as fast as I could until I exited the building, not stopping to catch my breath until I reached the car I’d borrowed from my roommate, Jessie. I was glad I’d parked beneath a light post because it helped me see the flat tire before I attempted to drive on the rim.
“Could this night get any worse?”
IRETREATED TO THE SANCTITYof my borrowed office after Henry left. The space wasn’t much to look at with its beige walls, equally drab tile floors, a desk that was older than me, and a sketchy chair that squeaked and pitched every time I sat down, but it was serviceable. The only somewhat personal touches in the room were an artificial plant with an inch of dust coating the leaves and a mirror hanging on the closet door—both items left behind by a predecessor. Reeling from the shock of seeing Henry unexpectedly, the sparse space suddenly felt like a sanctuary. I collapsed against the closed door, not trusting my legs to carry me to the rickety-ass chair across the room.
Henry.
His wide-eyed innocence had called to me the night we met. In a room full of preening peacocks, there was a sweet dove unaware of his beauty. He’d laughed with his friend and sipped a cocktail he hadn’t really liked. Later I’d learned his friend had bought it for him to celebrate his monumental birthday. It was his first alcoholic beverageandhis first time at a gay club. I would learn he wasn’t a virgin, but he might as well have been. Everything about him was soft, gentle, and kind, even if self-doubt and uncertainty lingered in the depths of his eyes.
Oh, his eyes. If it’s true they’re the windows to our souls, then Henry’s windows were constructed of stained glass in various shades of green and a pop of lemony yellow. The black iron separating the panes of glass would represent his pupils, and the yellow glass would represent the striations around them. Pale green would embody his lovely irises, and the forest green hue would perfectly match the dark band around them.
At the club, I’d thought his hair was an ordinary shade of dark brown, but the winter sunlight the next morning picked up strands of the various shades of red mixed in, reminding me of a burnt Serengeti sunset. Unable to resist, I’d slid my fingers through hair so soft and smooth it rivaled the finest fabrics from the silk market in Beijing.
“Christ. I’m thinking like an English lit professor.” A pretentious, well-traveled one. “There aren’t always hidden meanings behind words, actions, and appearances. Sometimes the curtains are just fucking blue, sometimes eyes are just fucking green, and hair is just fucking auburn and well-conditioned.” But the color of his irises alone wasn’t what had enthralled me. His eyes announced every thought crossing his mind, and I hadn’t been able to get enough of him. Still reeling from a hideous breakup, I was in no position to offer Henry anything beyond hot, horny sex, so I’d reluctantly let him go the next morning.
Feeling rattled to my bones, I turned and checked my reflection in the mirror and was pleased that none of my turmoil showed in my expression. I glanced down at my hands and saw they were steady too. Inside, though? It was a completely different story. My pulse raced, guts clinched, and my dick had stayed at half-mast during the entire class. I normally walked around while interacting with the students during my lectures, but I’d stayed hidden behind my lectern so no one, especially Henry, could see how he affected me.
Just hearing him slip and say my name had caused me to grip the side of the podium hard enough to break it. My dick had gone from mostly interested to full-blown, let’s-fuck mode.