Her Dirty Professor(21)

“I tried to take them down,” I say, my voice weak and desperate.

His mouth clamps down, eyes hard when he looks at me. My stomach drops to the floor. He’s pissed at me. Somehow, this is all my fault. Maybe if I hadn’t been so curious about the video in the first place Serena would’ve let it go. But I had to open my big mouth and become a part of whatever this is. I’m so fucked. The thought of him being mad at me scares me more than anything. That’s when I realize my feelings for him run deeper than I thought.

“Georgia, outside. Now.”

“But I didn’t—”

“Now.”

My breath wavers and I swallow down the sick feeling in my stomach. Dropping the photos in the trash bin, I head out of the classroom. On my way, people whisper “good luck” and “you’re in deep shit now,” as if I did all this. They have to know I didn’t do this. I would never. My furious gaze lands on Serena, but she’s not looking at me. Her head is bent over a textbook as if she’s innocent.

Bitch.

Before the door even shuts behind me, I’m already trying to explain myself. “Loche, I swear I would never—”

He grabs my shoulders, pushes me against the wall, and presses his lips against mine in a furious kiss. I’m so stunned at first I don’t kiss him back. But as his warm lips caress mine, I start to sink into his arms, and all the worry I’d felt flutters away for the briefest moment. My tongue slides against his teeth, behind them, the roof of his mouth. I explore, wanting to feel every part of him. He takes my bottom lip between my teeth, gently biting before kissing me again. If we weren’t in the middle of the school day, I’d be climbing out of my clothes right now. He’s impossible to resist, even with the lingering fear of getting caught sitting in the back of my mind.

When he pulls away I say, “I thought you were pissed at me.”

His lips and the skin around them are stained pink from the friction of our kiss. Without the stubble on his face I’d never seen them like that before. If I wasn’t scared to death about the consequences of those photos, I’d be smiling. But my expression is incapable of doing anything other than showing fear.

“How could I be pissed at you?” he says. I’m left breathless by the adoring way he looks at me. With the tips of his fingers he caresses my cheek. No man has every looked at me like that before. “You were defending me in there. I saw the whole thing. I was by the door. I heard what you said to Serena.”

He hugs me again, burying his face in my hair. I look up and down the halls. We’re alone for now, but we won’t be for long. “We can’t hug and kiss like this at school.”

“I know we can’t. Meet me tonight.”

“If I go to your house, Serena will see us,” I say.

“Then we’ll go somewhere else. I’ll pick you up in front of the bus station down the street from the dorms at seven.”

“Okay.” I sigh, looking back at the classroom. “What are we going to do about all those pictures?”

“I’ll take care of it,” he says.

But he doesn’t have to, because by the time we get back into the classroom, they’ve already been take down. My only fear is who has them and what they will do with them next.





Chapter 8


Loche Johnson




I’m excited to go on a date with Georgia. A real date. I pick her up at the bus station. She’s already waiting for me when I get there at seven. She stands in the middle of a cone of light cast down by a parking lot lamp, stunning in a sparkling black dress with her hair pulled back, showing off her long, slender neck. I get out to open the door for her.

“You look beautiful,” I say.

She smiles up at me, eyes shining. “So do you.”

I made an effort to dress up tonight, wanting to be worthy of being seen in public with such a goddess. Still, no one’s going to be paying a damn bit of attention to me with her standing there, other than to cast their jealous looks my way.

I can’t help but stare. I can see this with her. Date nights, special evenings for birthdays, anniversaries, and other big moments we choose to celebrate. I see a future with this woman. I think I love her. That though paralyzes my lungs. I haven’t had much luck with love. I’ve just never really connected with anyone other than Georgia before.

Once she’s in the car, we drive a half hour out of town. I normally listen to blues. She likes something a little faster, so we compromise on classic rock, though neither of us are really listening to the radio since we talk the entire time.

Seems like we’ve only been driving a few minutes when I pull into the parking lot of Bocelli’s, a restaurant I found by accident when looking for a place to eat on my way home from a teaching conference. It’s hidden from the road, cozy, and the food is delicious. We’re seated in the back per my request, at a table in the corner. The dim lighting gives her skin a soft glow.