Page 69 of Beautiful Trauma
“I printed the emails without the nude photos and turned them into the chancellor. I did it without letting on to Ben or Garrett that I knew anything.” I released a huge sigh. “Maybe if I handled it better, the fallout wouldn’t have been as disastrous.”
“What happened?’ Henry asked.
“Garrett threw a cup of hot coffee in my face after getting expelled from school. Ben took his golf clubs to my car while I was having dinner with my parents at the country club later that night. The chancellor had checked the students’ grades and test scores against the dates on the emails, and Ben had solicited sexual favors in exchange for better grades. He was fired on the spot and very angry at me. Rumors spread faster than a wildfire, and I couldn’t go anywhere without people whispering and looking at me with either pity or contempt. Ben and Garrett took every opportunity to pour gasoline on my broken heart by sending me photos or videos of the two of them together. It was the worse time of my life.”
“And Pres fits in where?” Henry asked.
“His friendship helped me through it. Well, his friendship got me drunker than what you witnessed the other night, but the rest of the time he was my rock. He’s disappointed in me right now, Henry. He thinks I’m a hypocrite who cast aside my convictions the first time a student caught my eye.”
“He’s wrong about us,” Henry whispered.
“I’m completely in love with you, Henry. Ben abused his position of power for sex. There’s nothing similar between the situations there, but Pres isn’t completely wrong. I might not have doctored your grades due to our relationship, but I convinced the department chair to hire undergrads as teaching assistants and recommended you for one of the positions.”
“Oh no,” Henry said. “Why would you take that kind of risk?”
“Because I believe in you and wanted to find ways to help you pay for college. I set this in motion and recommended you for the position before we started dating. Unfortunately, the school won’t see it that way. I don’t know how to fix this, Henry, but I will.”
Henry looked at me with so much sadness in his eyes. “Ezra, maybe we—”
I cut him off by pressing my lips firmly against his. “There has to be a way, and I will find it.”
The landline rang in the kitchen. “That’s going to be the concierge desk calling to let me know our delivery is here. I haven’t eaten, and I was certain you hadn’t either.”
“No,” Henry agreed. “I’m still not feeling that hungry.”
“I ordered your favorites from Dante’s,” I said over my shoulder on the way to the kitchen.
“Maybe I could eat a little,” Henry said. “I don’t think I’m much interested in going to Kings Island this afternoon though. I think I’ve had enough roller-coaster rides for a day, even if they were only the emotional kind.”
“Those are the worst kind,” I said wryly. I picked up the phone and approved sending up the delivery guy. I returned to the couch and squatted beside Henry. “Please give me time to figure something out. Don’t give up on us, Henry.”
“I won’t.” Henry smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Was he afraid to hope? It felt like he was slipping away, and I was powerless to stop it. If there is one thing a control freak hates the most, it’s feeling powerless. The only way to take back the power was to come clean to the school about my involvement with Henry. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he was worth it.
We are worth it.
IEXPECTEDPROFESSORSTONE TOlecture me, or even treat me harshly, when I reported to work the following morning, but he didn’t. He remained professional, cool, and aloof, even though I felt his eyes on me, watching and judging my every move, hoping I would fuck up so he could point it out to Ezra and say, “See! He’s no good for you, and here’s the proof.” But that wasn’t what happened. When I screwed up, he didn’t take advantage and rub my nose in it; he calmly told me what I did wrong and showed me how to do it correctly. When I did something right, he praised me.
By Friday afternoon, I relaxed a little. He could be biding his time to say something about my relationship with Ezra, or he could’ve just decided to mind his own business. I didn’t want to think poorly of the man, but I’d seen his body language both before and after he went up to Ezra’s condo. He had strode toward the elevator with confidence, clutching Ezra’s phone in his hand, thinking it was the key to get him into Ezra’s bed. Fast-forward ten minutes later, a dejected and very disappointed man had exited the building with the option of finding a different man to work off his frustrations with or take care of business himself. I hadn’t cared which he picked because Ezra had chosen me.
I reminded myself of that whenever I made the mistake of comparing myself to the big Brit. Prescott Stone was sexy, smelled like sin, had a boxer-melting accent, was highly educated, and appeared to have a similar background as Ezra’s, which made him the better bet for the long run. The depressing thoughts weighed heavily on me until I reminded myself Ezra lovedme; he choseme.
Even though Professor Stone hadn’t acted aggressively, my body was tense from anticipating the anvil that had to be hovering over my head. The only thing standing between me and a crushing blow was a frayed rope that was a few threads away from losing the battle. The thought triggered the memory of Ezra and me watching a marathon ofBugs Bunnyinstead of going to Kings Island. He’d been horrified to learn my parents had deprived me of watching the cartoon because they thought it was too violent.
The memory of what happened afterward made my face heat. I’d heard the term toe-curling sex, but I witnessed it firsthand when my calves were propped up on Ezra’s shoulders, giving me a perfect view of my feet when my body tensed just before I came.
I had to bite my lip to keep from giggling in Pres’s office when I recalled Ezra quoting the show’s closing tagline after he came hard. “‘That’s all, folks!’”
Knowing I had to get away from Pres’s watchful eye, I said, “I’m going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?”
“No, thank you.”
The room swayed a bit when I stood up too fast, and I gripped the edge of my desk to steady myself.
“Are you okay, Mr. Sullivan?” Professor Stone asked.
“I think my blood sugar is just a little low. I ate lunch, but it didn’t have the right balance between carbs and proteins.”
“You sound so much likehimalready,” Professor Stone murmured. “Are you diabetic? Is that the emergency ID bracelet you’re wearing?”