Dear Professor(53)

Then he’d prayed to forget. He’d made that one come true himself. Most of the time. He’d taken steps to keep the pain and the memories at bay.#p#分页标题#e#

Like sex. Sex was his outlet. Focusing on carnal, primal needs meant there was little time for the emotional. He liked it that way. There was no intimacy to his relationships. Not the ones before Darcy and not the ones after—and sure as hell not with Carly Banks.

The thought made him feel sick.

He crossed his living room, and glass crunched beneath his shoes. He’d deal with that later. He grabbed the heavy whiskey bottle and a clean glass from the shelf on the bar. The cap fell to the ground after he’d unscrewed it, and he ignored it as he poured three fingers of the amber liquid out. The bottle clinked against the mahogany glass as he put it down only to pick his drink up.

He drank it in three mouthfuls.

It burned his throat as it went down, warming him from the inside out and distracting him from the dull ache in his chest. He hated himself for turning to it right now. Alcohol was the very thing that had destroyed his life, but he needed it. Needed its companionship, even if it only lasted for a mere few seconds.

He slammed the glass down and grasped the edge of the bar, dropping his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the hit of the alcohol invade his bloodstream. The heat traveled with the speed of adrenaline, and he welcomed the numbing of his emotions as it came.

Every emotion except the guilt.

It was reflexive, the yelling. He had known exactly where Darcy had been going with her questioning as soon as she’d asked him whether or not he was single. He’d thought he had been ready for it. He would be estranged, divorced—anything but the reality that kept him in a perpetual emotional limbo.

It didn’t matter that it was a limbo he’d chosen for himself. What mattered was that he was happy—whatever that truly meant.

Fuck. The whiskey hadn’t numbed him as much as he’d thought. He could still feel, still think, still process those goddamn emotions. He didn’t want to feel or think or anything at all that might make him remember.

He poured another three fingers. This time, it only took two mouthfuls for the spirit to burn its way down to his stomach. Once again, he slammed the glass down. The loud clink cut through the silence. He wished that it could cut through his thoughts as smoothly.

Of course, that would have been too easy. And if he’d learned anything, it was that life wasn’t easy. It wasn’t supposed to be.

Meaningless affairs and sick desires were all he had.

He ran his fingers through his short hair as he backed toward his sofa and sat down. Then, leaning forward, he contemplated picking the phone up and calling someone to give him exactly that—a meaningless affair, just for one night.

The problem was that he’d just sent away the person he wanted to call. Viciously, at that. Cruelly, even. Certainly unexpectedly.

He took hold of his phone and stared at it as he turned it in his hand. It’d be too easy, wouldn’t it? Call. Drown himself in sex. Let the alcohol take hold and his inhibitions disappear.

But fuck, he needed a bit of easy. He was done with everything. It amazed him how he’d become so revered professionally yet so fucked up personally.

He didn’t linger on that thought as he unlocked his phone and went to his contacts.

He knew he’d regret this tomorrow morning, and it could have been the whiskey talking, but he wasn’t sure he gave a fuck.

After all, you couldn’t take a thing from a man who had nothing to lose.





Dear Professor, honesty is underrated. So is confusion. Confusion sucks. Xoxo, Darcy.



“Get out.”

The words had echoed in my mind all day. They were just so…flat. Like what I’d asked him had taken every last inch of emotion and drained it out of his body.#p#分页标题#e#

Now, I knew he was hiding something. He wouldn’t have told me to get out so angrily if that weren’t the case. But what? What was it about his wife that he needed to hide?

It was driving me crazy. Like loop-the-fucking-loop crazy. The worst thing was that I had nothing to distract myself with, either. Without my job, I felt lost. My instinct was to get dressed in my best lingerie, put new batteries in my vibrator, and get on camera. That way, I’d be so focused on what I was doing that it wouldn’t matter what I felt inside.

Unfortunately, the only camera I was on was Skype to my parents. It wasn’t very successful, given the two crazy seven-year-olds who kept intercepting the call.

“Mom! Where’s the football?” Brandon yelled.

“No! The basketball!” Brady countered.