Page 11 of Finley

“Was there something else, Mr. Finley?”

“You said you were going out with friends this weekend…”

Shit, did I?“Yes, that’s right.”

As Daniel ran his thumb down the left strap of his bag, Brantley admonished himself for noticing every little move he made. He needed to get a fucking hold of himself.

“Are any of themmorethan a friend?”

If he hadn’t been watching Daniel quite so closely, he wouldn’t have believed the words that had just come out of his mouth. But he had been. So he did.

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business. You better hurry or you’ll miss your next class.”

Satisfied that he’d firmly dismissed Daniel, Brantley sat down and made a show of focusing on the books lining his desk, and didn’t dare look and see if Daniel had left this time or not. Brantley wasn’t sure what he’d do if he was still standing there.

He reached up to adjust his tie, which suddenly felt a little too tight around his neck, and with each passing second that he was consciouslynotchecking to see if he was alone, he swore that it was getting tighter.

“Professor Hayes?”

His head snapped up at his name, and when Daniel had his attention, he continued.

“Are you gay?”

Brantley’s eyes widened, and he wondered how his mouth hadn’t fallen open at the blunt question. “Excuse me?”

“I asked if you were?—”

“I heard what you said. But I don’t see how that is any business of yours. You should think before you speak, Mr. Finley. I’m your teacher, and it’s time for you to leave. This conversation is over.” He flipped open one of the books on his desk and shook his head. He couldn’t believe the audacity of the kid—or the fact that he was so damn forthright. As he sat there, grinding his teeth in an effort not to look at his student—who wasstillstanding in front of his desk—a bead of sweat ran down his collar, and he cursed the fact that his nerves were getting the better of him.

“I only asked because, well, I am too. And I thought it would be nice to have someone to talk to.”

Well, hell. Brantley couldn’t fault him for that. The only problem was…talking wasn’t what sprang to mind when he was around Daniel Finley.

He clasped his hands on the desk and stared into the anxious face peering down at him. Daniel was worrying his lower lip with his teeth, and he suddenly looked very much the young man he was.

“Are you?” he asked again, and there was no way Brantley could deny that hesitant curiosity.

“Yes, Daniel. I am.”

As his words drifted between them, Daniel’s mouth slipped into a smile. “Oh.”

Brantley laughed at that. He wasn’t sure what Daniel was thinking right then. He’d thought for sure with the way he’d been looking at him earlier that if he’d admitted this, he would be fending off—or at least putting up a good show of fending off—an unwanted pass. But instead, Daniel appeared thoughtful.

“Does that bother you?”

Daniel adamantly shook his head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Brantley asked, and the look that entered Daniel’s eyes then was so hot that he thought he might overheat.

“Yes. I'm very sure.”

Oh, fuck. Okay. Where the hell did the nervous guy disappear to?One minute, Daniel was endearingly awkward, and the next, he was looking at Brantley like he wanted to strip him out of his clothes and?—

“Stop right there,” he said, and he wasn’t sure if he was telling himself or the contradiction eyeing him with newfound knowledge. “Whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it.”

“Why?”

Yep, he was fucked. That wasn’t a word he generally used, but in this case, he was well and truly fucked. He should’ve just stuck to the run-along-now speech.