That’s what he is right now. I beat the shit out of that little asshole, and I’d do it again. My name is on the building I teach in, I don’t need anything from this university, and they trot my name out like I’m some kind of show pony. I won’t have this shit.
“It's one thing for us to look the other way with flings that you’ve had with students in the past, and that was handled, so there’s no need to deal with that…but this is another matter,” Lonnie says, his disgust for me evident.
“The assault happened off campus. Neither the parents nor the student are pressing charges. It was all handled and has no blowback for the university,” I counter. I don’t appreciate that he’s saying I’ve fucked around with students, as I haven’t…well, until now. But that’s just not his goddamn business.
I feel myself slipping into anger again. I want Emmaline and I’ve done something incredibly stupid in even entertaining the thought of her being mine.
“You can’t buy your way out of everything!” Lonnie says, his voice getting shrill. He’s never been happy that despite being in his department, I’m his superior in just about every way.
I won’t stand for this petty shit. I don’t have time for this.
“If you’re done, I know I am,” I say, and I walk out of his office. I don’t need this shit at all.
Because I know that I don’t have a leg to stand on right now when it comes to Emmaline. I want to fuck her so hard neither of us can breathe, and my body aches just thinking about her.
I think about what happened with the last attraction I had that was anything serious to me…Joelle. Emmaline’s mother, for fuck’s sake.
And this is not my first university incident. I can’t think about that girl right now.
I know that I have real feelings for Emmaline. Nothing built out of just lust; nothing originating in my feelings for Joelle.
And if I really care about Emmaline, I should leave her alone. The idea makes me want to punch something.
I keep myself sequestered from every possible relationship because they aren’t that — they aren’t possibilities. But I know that Emmaline is something more. She understands me, she gets me in a way that no woman ever has. Not her mother, Joelle. Not any of the random women I’ve slept with. I care about Emmaline. I want more, and I know that she’s more than mildly interested in me.
I could have her wrapped all around my finger, but I shouldn’t be that asshole. I should stay away from her.
My cock is rock hard just thinking about her. I head to my office and try to think about grading papers, but I’m thinking about fucking Emmaline until she screams my name.
I’m a grown fucking man and I can control myself. I need to control myself. I will stop thinking about her.
In three,
Two,
Aaaaand my phone rings.
Emmaline is calling me.
It makes me want to knock my damn desk over but I ignore the call.
Emmaline
Ethan won’t return any of my calls.
I went to his house, and he wasn’t home.
I’m being ignored in such an intense way that I feel insane. Insanity is the only way that I can justify my reaction to going to class, where I plan to corner Ethan afterward, then walking out when I see there’s a substitute.
Yes, miss 4.0 GPA, skipped class when I saw there was a substitute teacher.
Delia’s radar must be going off because she texts me right as I’m exiting class. She wants me to meet up with her.
I hightail back to my dorm. I’m wearing my damn flats so my feet are screaming by the time I get there, but I can’t focus on anything now that Ethan is ignoring me this way. How could I be so stupid? I am so grateful to see Delia that I give her a huge hug when I see her.
I let go, walking into my dorm room. Delia’s face is ominous and I feel myself get a little dizzy. I
“Em, you’re not going to like this,” Delia says.
Shiiiit. That’s not a thing I want to hear.
“What is it I won’t like?” I ask in a small voice. “Ethan has basically ghosted me.” I don’t mention going by his house and him not being home. That’s starting to sound a little crazy in my head, though I’m honestly fine with it…I remember how Ethan knew my schedule and I was fine with that. But Delia and I don’t need to debate stalker ethics. She knows something and I need to know it, too.
“I’m sorry, babe.” Delia says, and she sits on my bed.
I sit next to her and try to mentally prepare myself for whatever bomb Delia might be about to drop on me.
“You’re not the first student that Ethan slept with,” Delia says.
I’m shocked by this, but I’m not jealous. Am I delusional that I feel like I'm still special to him? I know he’s special to me, and since he’s disappeared off the face of the earth, maybe that is enough. “Ten years ago — I did some digging — he slept with a girl, a freshman student.” Delia stops, but there’s so obviously more.