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Story: Falling for the Quarterback (Clearview Falls University)
Chapter Three
C harlotte
Nerves have settled in my belly, jostling the three bites of toast I ate earlier for breakfast, as I decide on my first day of class attire. Searching my wardrobe, I begin rifling through all my clothing options, which honestly feel too similar to Queen Elizabeth’s matronly attire. Old and outdated.
I grouse at my decision not to go shopping before I started my position. Although, to be fair, I didn’t have a lot of time because I only had three weeks to move once they made me the offer.
Finally narrowing it down, I select button-down cream top and a pair of high-waisted black pleated trousers with a large black belt. Looking in the full-length mirror, I realize the black bra I’m wearing can clearly be seen through the top’s material, so I exchange it for a white lace one, then fiddle with the buttons on the blouse. I don’t want to look too conservative, so I unbutton the top two pearl buttons and check to make sure neither my cleavage nor my bra can be seen.
Satisfied I look the part, I wrap my long strawberry-blonde hair low against my nape and tie it into a tight bun to keep it from falling into my face. Then I touch up my makeup and add some mascara before I leave the small off-campus bungalow the university has rented me for the academic year.
Although my interview was back in March—during my infamous one-night-stand with Hendy—the university took its sweet time in finally offering me a tenure-track position in the business school just three weeks ago. My teaching and classes are mainly focused on digital marketing and the European markets, and I’ll have three graduate program classes this semester while I also begin my research paper on global marketing management.
There were only a few weeks to get everything in order back in Boston, then drive my belongings out west and get situated in Clearview Falls. I’ve barely had time to acclimate myself to campus since I arrived in town.
The beauty of living so close to this gorgeous university is I can walk the five blocks along tree-lined streets. Sure, Boston had all the seasons, but it didn’t have the lush landscape of trees and mountainous background where fall is just beginning to begin show through the change of colors.
As I make it to the quad on campus, I look around in awe at how vastly my life has changed this past year. Starting today, all my hopes and dreams and everything I’ve worked for all these years have come to fruition.
God, I hope I do well. I need this job. I’ve given everything for this opportunity and want nothing more than to make something of myself without any help from my father.
Inside my purse, my phone pings with an incoming text.
Dean Brian Becker: Good luck today! Not that you need it. Don’t forget the welcome faculty meeting later.
Me: Thank you. I’ll be sure to be there after class.
I smile. The dean wishing me luck is like a good omen, right? I inhale deeply, taking in the scent of freshly cut grass and foliage, and begin to walk toward the student center where I’ll grab a coffee in the café before I head to my office in Cameron Hall. There are students everywhere along the quad, young people milling about, catching up with friends and classmates, sitting on blankets on the grassy lawns or on benches with books. I fight the urge to smile again.
I’m a full-fledged assistant professor now. Bloody hell, I actually did it! On my own, I might add, without the help of my father, Dr. Andrew Phillip Butler.
Entering the commons building, I look down at my phone to find a few other text messages from Ana and a few friends from Boston all wishing me luck today. I begin to type out my response when I bump someone’s shoulder.
An apology is just on my tongue when I look back to see the backs of two female students land their male friend walking out the door, just out of earshot.
A strange sense of déjà vu hits my senses. A memory of the man and the scent of his cologne brings back the reminder of my night spent with Hendy all those months ago. It’s pathetic that I’m still thinking about this man, who is nowhere in the vicinity and has no reason to be on campus. He’d told me he was set to graduate from college last spring, so there’s no way the man in line would’ve been him.
I shake off the ridiculous thought and head toward the very long coffee line.
This daydreaming about a man I had a one-night stand with over six months ago has got to stop. It’s done, over, and I’ll never see him again.
But that’s easier said than done because that night had a searing effect on me. It was the best sex of my life, and despite the fact that we were perfect strangers, I felt a strong connection to him.
Hendy was funny, respectful, and insatiable. And while he was a few years younger than me, the age difference didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. The endurance and stamina he had from his youthful virility didn’t hurt either.
“That’s right, gorgeous. I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again…”
Someone from afar calls out, “Watch out!” and I duck just in time to avoid being pelted in the head with an incoming Frisbee. Another male voice yells, “Sorry!” and I give them a wave as I continue walking.
Pay attention, Charlotte , I chastise myself. Stop this excessive obsession over Hendy and his great sex skills and focus on the present.
As I walk into Cameron Hall, I click through today’s agenda. I have several lectures to prep for, which means I need to get my head in the game.
Cameron Hall is where most of my lectures will be held and which also houses my office.
My office.
A jolt of excitement hits me in the gut, sending slivers of nerves through my bloodstream as I review my lecture notes and prepare my first presentation as an assistant professor.
“You can do this,” I quietly encourage myself, with more bravado than I actually feel. I gather up my things, lock my office door, and walk down to the small seminar room where I’ll be teaching my first class of grad students today.
Making my way to the front of the classroom, I set down my laptop bag and coffee and peruse the roster of the fifteen students that are scheduled to be here today. Not nearly as daunting as a lecture hall full of over one hundred students like I used to teach back in my PhD days. Those were extremely nerve-racking, and it makes me even more grateful to be teaching at a small university and not a big one like in Boston.
Extracting my laptop from my bag, I set it on the podium and hook it up to the HDMI cord using the classroom’s technology. With a deep breath, I hit a button and voilà, my slideshow appears on the screen.
Phew . Alright, at least I got that working. I’m concentrating on the curriculum when I hear a soft muffle of voices carrying down the stairs of the room as a few students begin filing in. I soon sense someone standing in front of me, and I look up to find a young man with dark auburn hair and a caterpillar mustache smiling at me.
“Hi, Professor Butler. I’m Chad Watkins,” he greets me congenially. “I checked with the Registrar last week about adding your class and they said it’s full. But would you mind if I audited today on the off-chance someone drops it?” His eyes and voice are full of hope. Poor guy. I’d hate to shatter it. I remember those days trying to play hopscotch in order to get in a class I needed to graduate.
“Sure, Chad. I can reach out to the dean and registrar’s office, too, and see if we can’t get you added. I know they like caps on the classes, but I hardly think sixteen people will break the system. I’m sure we have room,” I say, offering him a warm smile and a gesture toward the room that can hold up to thirty. “But I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Professor. I really appreciate it,” he says. “I’ll just take a seat in the back.”
I nod and a glow of pride covers my cheeks at the use of the term Professor as I watch him walk off to find a seat. I glance at the time on the clock and am about to start class and take roll call when my gaze scans over the room of bright-eyed students and lands on a familiar face.
I freeze.
I blink.
I nearly collapse.
Oh, no.
No, no, no .
This can’t be happening.
This must be a hallucination or a figment of my imagination brought on by nerves. What else could explain the reason that Hendy is sitting in my classroom?
My heart hammers wildly in my chest as I stare in confused shock at Hendy, who doesn’t seem to notice me because he’s chatting with a girl sitting next to him.
Why the hell is he here in my class? When we met, he’d told me he would be graduating from college last spring. I never even thought to ask where he went to school, either. It seemed pointless considering I wasn’t there to get to know him. He was simply going to fuck my brains out. And he did just that.
So I’m absolutely gobsmacked by this turn of events. This is madness.
My hot ski-vacation hookup is sitting in my seminar looking even better than he did six months ago.
He wears a black CFU Bears T-shirt that molds over his chest and biceps. A similarly embroidered hat sits low on his head, covering eyes that I know to be a brilliant blue. His square jawline is even more accentuated now with the lack of a beard and it makes him look even younger.
All my efforts to keep those memories of our night together fails and what he did to my body comes rushing back in a flood of senses.
His beard bristle tickles my lips as he presses his hot mouth to mine. Hot damn, this guy can kiss.
Our kiss goes from hot to scorching lava in under twenty seconds and I feel his hardened erection against my stomach when he presses me against the wall. His hand runs a calculated path over my clothed body and I reach up and slip my fingers through his hair.
“Too many clothes,” he mumbles against my lips. I hum my agreement.
I’m not sure how we do it without breaking the kiss, but we each take off single items of clothes until we’re both naked and panting. Then he takes a step back and his eyes drift over my body, devouring me with his hungry gaze.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
The flush that rises over my skin from those three simple words is my undoing. I lay back on the bed, spread my legs, and beckon him to crawl on top of me. His body is taut and firm and my hands roam with abandon, tracing the curves and valleys of this incredibly sexy man.
Not wanting to get too far ahead but knowing where this is going to lead, I manage to let a word escape my addled brain.
“Condom.”
He frowns for a moment and then smirks a cheeky grin, nodding once before lifting himself from me and leaning down on the floor to fumble around for his pants. Yanking something from one of his pockets, he returns to my side, shaking a foil packet in his fingers like it’s a prize.
“Quite the Boy Scout,” I say with a raised eyebrow.
“Safety first, then fun,” he replies with a wink, opening the packet with his teeth and rolling the condom over his impressive length. “Now, where was I?”
I sink back into the bed at the first touch of his fingers as they trace a seductive path up my thigh to find my swollen, wet flesh. He has me crying out within seconds, circling my clit and working me into a frenzy with his fingers before swiftly sinking into me as he skillfully brings me to orgasm.
“Don’t stop!” I cry out as the edges of my vision darken as starlight explodes behind my eyelids. He doesn’t and a moment after I fall into the bliss I so desperately needed, he follows suit and finds his own release.
I realize I’ve been holding my breath and staring into space when the sound of the classroom door slams and brings me back to reality. The entire room is now staring at me and I seem to return from another universe. I drag in some air to fill my lungs and try to calm myself before Hendy notices me standing in front of the room.
Then, as if he realizes the whole room has turned quiet, he slowly lifts his gaze, starting down at my feet and making his way up my body until our eyes meet and lock.
His face remains impassive, the only tell of recognition being the tip of his tongue making an arc around his mouth.
Bollocks. Fuck.
This is not what I expected on my first day of the semester.
I’ve never had a poker face, but maybe I can just ignore the fact that there is a conflict of interest in that I’ve already slept with one of my students.
Or maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll drop this class. Yes, of course, why wouldn’t he?
I’m sure he’ll be unbearably uncomfortable sitting in my class day after day, week after week, and he’ll not want the trouble.
A drop of sweat drips between my cleavage as dread washes over me. I swallow thickly, knowing I’m expected to address the class, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.
With every ounce of wherewithal I can muster, I remind myself how to speak and begin my rehearsed speech.
“Good morning, everyone, and welcome. I’m Professor Charlotte Butler and this is Digital Marketing…” I stop suddenly, having drawn a complete blank and forgotten the course name.
Shit . Shit, shit, shit.
My prepared notes shake in my hand and I’m painfully aware of the snickers that waft around the room. A deep voice that sounds like it was forged in whiskey and cigarettes jumps in.
“Case Studies of European Countries.”
I glance up, knowing exactly where it came from. “Thank you,” I supply dully, trying to get my feet back underneath me.
“Yes, this is a graduate-level course, so if you’re not a grad student or this isn’t the class you enrolled in, now would be a great time to sneak out. I promise not to look.”
I turn around, my back to the class, as my comment lightens the mood and laughter rises up. Then the shuffling of feet and the door opening and closing shut can be heard, letting me know at least one or more took me up on that offer.
Finally, I turn back around and grin.
“Happens every time,” I add with a laugh. “Now, then. I’m excited to have you all here this semester. We’ll dive into the lecture in a moment, but first, since we’re a small class and we’ll be doing a lot of group work over the next semester, I want to go around the room and introduce ourselves. If you could give me your full name so I may mark my attendance roster, where you’re from, and your interest in the topic of our course, I would appreciate it.”
I gesture to the student nearest me, a bright-eyed young woman with dark hair and eyes and an eager expression on her face.
“Would you care to begin?”
The student smiles and nearly jumps out of her chair to face the class.
“Hi. I’m Ellen Chang. I’m from Irvine, California. I want to be a marketing executive in my father’s company once I’ve graduated with my MBA.”
I smile politely at Ellen. “Thank you, Ellen. That’s very admirable. Next?”
Another student rises and we continue to go through the room as I jot down their preferred pronouns and mark their presence on my roster, but my eyes continue to drift automatically to Hendy, who watches me with an intensity that is both thrilling and disorienting. Not once does he seem to give any notice to his classmates.
When it’s finally his turn, his lips twitch in what we British term a cheeky grin.
“Good morning, Professor Butler,” he drawls, drawing out my name. “I’m Joel Henderson, but everyone calls me Hendy.”
Someone interrupts from behind with a, “ Go, Hendy! ” and my brows shoot up as I follow the sound with my gaze. When they return to Hendy…I mean…Joel…I mean, ugh …
Joel, er, Hendy laughs, glancing over his shoulder with a wave.
“Sorry, Professor. We have a lot of football fans on campus. I’m originally from Rivers Crossing, just twenty miles from here. I’m in this class because it’s part of my graduate program.” That crooked, sexy smile of his peeks out and my knees nearly buckle. “Lucky me, I hear you’re the master on the topic.”
I try not to blush as a few “ oohs ” fly around the room, which only makes my cheeks heat even hotter in this already warm room.
I force myself to nod and offer my brief response.
“Thank you, Joel. Next…”
My gaze shifts to the student next to him, who gives me her name, but to be honest, I still couldn’t tell you what it was even if I were bound and tortured because I’m not listening.
The hungry perusal of my body by Hendy’s eyes robs me of thought and common sense. I want to escape the scrutiny of his knowing glances, but I have to keep my composure and not let my knickers get in a twist.
When the last student finishes with their introduction, I return to my well-rehearsed lecture and work to keep my eyes off of Hendy.
By the end of the hour-long class, I’m feeling a bit more relaxed and my confidence has made a comeback.
The students file out of the classroom with their assignments for the next class and I return to the podium to turn off the projector and unplug my laptop, clearing my convoluted thoughts of the strange randomness that has occurred with the reemergence of my onetime lover. Poppy is going to have a heyday with this one.
No sooner have I finished packing up when I feel the very heat of him next to me. I know it’s him because I recognize his cedar and ocean scent before I even look up.
Slowly, I lift my gaze to the otherwise empty room, then turn to stare into familiar blue eyes.
“Fancy meeting you here, Lottie .” He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. “I mean, Professor Butler.”
I give him a pointed look. “Mr. Henderson, I think you and I should have a chat in my office. Immediately.”
He presses his lips together and nods. “Absolutely. Lead the way. I’m all yours.”
This time, I inhale deeply to indulge in the scent of his cologne thanks to his close proximity.
A proximity that I suspect will not change anytime in the near future because he’ll be in my classroom.
Fuck. My. Life.
How do I get myself out of this clusterfuck of a mess?