Page 6 of Lesbian Professor (Sapphic Sweethearts #6)

Noelle

R ule number one is never sleep over.

Never.

And never, not in the history of me picking up women in bars, have I broken this rule.

Until tonight.

Until now.

I wake up and stretch, feeling good and wonderful and very well-used, and then I realize that I’m not in my bed, and I’m not in my apartment, and I’m not at work.

Shit.

I roll over. She’s here, curled up in a ball with her arms wrapped around a pillow. Polly’s hair is everywhere, and somehow, even while she’s asleep, she looks perfect. Pristine. Soft.

She looks delicate .

And I love this.

I love the way she looks even when she’s asleep, even when she’s lost herself to the dream world. I don’t want to leave, but I know that I need to, so I do.

Quietly, I slip out of bed, gather my belongings, and look at my phone. Somehow, my battery isn’t dead. I have just two missed calls, which is far fewer than I expected. I have a couple of texts from friends, but most importantly, I have a sudden grasp on the time.

If I leave now, I can rush home, change, and make it to campus for my first class. I’m here as a professor, after all. I’m not supposed to be falling for girls I meet. I have an actual job that I was hired to do, and I’m going to do it.

So, I rush.

I grab an Uber back to Jessica’s place. She’s already off doing whatever, but I enter the code to get into her home, take the world’s fastest shower, dress, grab my laptop and books, and head back outside to wait for my next Uber.

A college-aged woman arrives in a red Nissan Rogue.

“You Noelle?”

“I am.”

“Your carriage awaits, m’lady.”

The girl tips an imaginary hat, gestures for me to hop in, and I do. I climb in the backseat with all of my things, and I sit. As soon as the door is closed, the woman starts talking.

“I know the app says my name is Brittany, but everyone calls me Bee,” she says.

“That’s a nice nickname.”

“I know,” she says. “My mom thinks it’s silly, but I love it. Everyone calls me Bee, and I’m just fine with that.”

“Have you been driving a long time?”

“A few months,” she says. “Makes ends meet.”

“Well, the world is pretty expensive, Bee,” I say. I’m trying so hard to pay attention to the conversation, but my mind is back on Polly, on her legs, on her hands against my breasts.

How lucky am I to have walked into that damn bar?

Fuck.

“You good?” Bee looks at me in the rearview mirror.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine. First day of class?”

“Yes.”

“Ah,” she says. “Don’t worry. You know, my mom went back to college later in life, too, and she said everything went just fine.”

“Excuse me?”

“My mom. She went back when she was like, I don’t know, fifty. She said everyone was really nice. Nobody really minded that she was older than the other students.”

“I’m not a student.”

“No? Sorry, I just assumed.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m a professor.”

“Oh, nice. Sexy professor?”

“Something like that.”

“All professors are sexy,” Bee says. She turns left, and I know we’re getting close to the university.

Good thing, too. I have exactly ten minutes before class starts.

I won’t even have time to go to my office.

I’ll just be hard launching my day, which is unfortunate because all I want to do is be with her.

Polly.

The beauty.

The star.

The woman of my dreams even though I don’t need that right now.

What I need is to rebound. I need time to be single. I know this. My ex-girlfriend broke my damn heart, and unfortunately, I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to fully recover from her.

When I fall in love, I fall hard and fast and terrible. I should have sensed that things were going wrong. When you fall out of love, it’s not fast. It’s not in an instant. You build a life with someone, and then when your lives are pulled apart, there’s an unraveling.

That’s what I need to do now.

I need time to unravel, to express myself.

“We’re here,” Bee says.

“Oh.”

“We’ve been stopped for a while.”

“Sorry, Bee.”

“You’re a sexy professor,” she says as I gather my things up. “I hope you know that.”

“Bee, you’re very kind.”

“I’m just honest.”

“I’m starting to think that a lot of people around here are honest,” I say.

“We are. Are you ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll be great.”

I slip out of the car, close the door, and turn to look at the beautiful campus. It’s more than fifty years old, and while many of the buildings are old, they’re all so damn pretty. You really don’t see brick like this anymore unless you’re on a college campus, so I’m here for it.

I make my way down the sidewalk. The pathways are bustling with students rushing to and from classes.

Because it’s the first day of school, more people are out than usual.

As the semester stretches on, people will fade away.

They’ll get tired and worn out. Classes will be forgotten, grades ignored and then argued for.

I reach the Pelesky Building. This is one that was donated by a rich lady from Kentucky whose Momma taught her the value of education. Naomi Pelesky was the kind of woman who did what she wanted, when she wanted, but she did it with multiple degrees to her name.

I enter the tall building. Like the others on campus, this one has a beautiful brick exterior, and it’s three stories tall.

I walk down the first-floor hall and look for my classroom.

I’m in a smaller class today. This one just has twelve students, which is great.

It means I’ll have the opportunity to really get to know everyone.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with larger classes, but I like having the chance to actually build relationships with my students.

Room 134 is on the West end. I reach it and walk inside just as the clock turns to nine. Whoever thought early morning classes were a good idea was wrong. Classes this early are never good.

“Good morning, class,” I say. I set my belongings down, and then I look up.

At her.

At Polly.

She’s sitting in the front row.