Page 20 of Teach Me

I loitered, taking my time as other students filed out of the lecture hall, while a small line formed in front of the professor’s desk. Apparently, more than a few students had questions about their drafts, which made me feel a little better. Eventually, I joined the back of the line, pulling out my phone while I waited.

I’d been surprised to hear from my mystery man again so soon, but I’d doublechecked my schedule before leaving work to race to class.

The best shifts at the cafe were mornings and lunches, so my nights were free, technically, though usually filled with classwork. On Sundays, I did a double shift, breakfast and lunch, but as long as I could get a handle on this essay, I should be good to get freaky again Saturday night, and Jesus was I looking forward to it.

Cam:Hey, I just wanted to let you know that Saturday works for me.

I fired off the text and glanced up as the next person in line shuffled toward the professor. Lusk held up a finger to stall them while he reached for his phone on the desk, fingers flying over the keys.

My phone vibrated in my hand, and I glanced down again to see the reply that came through.

Mr. Mystery:Great news.

An icy sensation gripped my chest, like I’d accidentally swallowed a whole menthol lozenge. No fucking way.

I quickly typed another message.

Cam:Same time?

As I watched, Lusk started to put his phone back on his desk, then frowned, pulling it close once more and typing.

Mr. Mystery:Perfect.

The ice spread through my veins, warring with heat that crawled up the back of my neck. Correlation did not equal causation; that was basic science. I was thinking irrationally. Except the typing-to-reception ratio fit too fucking perfectly. And then I remembered the shoes, the “keep it simple,” and my stomach twisted into a pretzel to the memory of softly groaned encouragements.

Professor Lusk was my glory hole guy.

My glory hole guy was Professor Lusk.

I had sucked my professor’s dick.

My professor had sucked mine.

And I had really fucking liked it.

I had to tell him.

Wait, no, that was literally the worst idea ever.

Fuck.

“Cameron?” Professor Lusk’s warm gaze roved my face, a gently prompting smile painting his lips. “Do you have questions about your essay draft?”

My mind was a sheet of ice in Siberia, no coherent thoughts on the horizon, just an endless blank field of white. “Um. I’ve—” I cleared my throat and shook my head. “Yes?” I said tentatively. And then, more definitively, “Yes.”

I had crawled out of the hole of pill popping, faced my parents’ constant disapproval, confronted my own fuckups with my friends and an entire fraternity; I should be able to string afucking sentence together. “I was really hoping I’d do better on the draft, and I’d really like to earn an A in this class. I think I might need a little help with that if I go off of this grade.” I shoved a hand in my pocket to keep it from shaking noticeably.

Lusk glanced down at his watch. “I’ve got office hours starting in a few minutes that I need to get to, but I have some ideas. Why don’t you meet me there in about ten minutes?”

“Fucking perfect.” The words ballooned out of me with relief before I could help it, and the professor chuckled softly, then lifted his hand to stall the apology on my lips.

“I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

I got out of there as fast as possible, found the nearest bathroom, and shut myself in a stall so I could have a proper freak-out. Me and bathroom stalls seemed to have become a thing.

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes and drew in a deep breath.Let’s think about this rationally.As I reeled back the events from earlier and replayed them, I decided maybe I was being too quick to jump to conclusions. Coincidences happened all the time, and just because he’d been replying to a text right after I’d sent one didn’t mean he was my mystery man. Well, except for all of the other corroborating evidence.

I laughed in complete disbelief as my phone vibrated again.