Her Dirty Professor(28)

“I’m being serious. I don’t live that far from campus, and since I’m not working I can drive you there. And this way I still get to see you every day. My house is plenty big enough for the both of us, and . . .” The cutest smile stretches across his face. “We can fuck like rabbits every night and just fall asleep in bed. You won’t have to worry about going home at night or sneaking off in the morning.”

“Aww, I see where this is going. You just want your own personal blowup doll around whenever you want to get laid.”

He playfully slaps my ass. “You know it.”

“I see how it is.”

His smile slips away and his expression becomes serious. “Really though, I want you to move in with me. I love you. I want to have a life with you. I wouldn’t have given up my job if I wasn’t serious about making this relationship work. I’ve never felt like this about anyone in my life.”

The air grows heavy in my lungs. I love him too, more than anything. My parents will freak when they find out I’ve left the dorms and moved in with an older man—my former teacher, nonetheless—but I don’t care. I want to be with him.

“Yes, I will move in with you.”

He kisses my forehead, the tip of my nose, and then my lips, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.





Epilogue


Loche Johnson




One Year Later





Georgia comes into the bathroom, where I’m brushing my teeth and grabbing the things I forgot to pack and putting them in our overnight bag.

“Are you sure you feel up to meeting my parents?” she asks. “I can tell them you have the flu.”

I spit out toothpaste and rinse my mouth. “It’s been a year since you moved in with me, I think it’s finally time I met them.”

She fixes my collar and kisses me. I take her hand. “You ready?” I ask her.

“I think so,” she says with a deep breath and a smile.

We double-check our packing list and head for the airport.

After a long flight and a four-hour layover, our plane finally lands. This will be my first time meeting Georgia’s parents, but I’ve actually talked to her mom several times on the phone, just friendly chatter to get to know one another more. When she sidelined me, asking me to come to their Thanksgiving dinner, I wasn’t sure what to say, and so I just said yes.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Georgia had asked, panicked out of her mind. She’s concerned about what they’ll think about me being ten years older than she is and a former teacher at the university she attends. Not that she never planned to tell them; she just wanted to ease her way into the conversation.

After a year of us being together, the subject could’ve found its way into a conversation sooner, but I never said that—they’re her parents and she can deal with them how she wants. Of course we won’t tell them that I was her teacher and our relationship is the reason I’m no longer employed there. If they don’t ask, I won’t bring it up. If they do, I’ll just explain that I found opportunities elsewhere—which is true. I’m now working in a lab, creating chemical formulas for cosmetic and skincare companies. Sort of a dream job, utilizing my skills as a chemist instead of teaching others how to hone theirs. Had I not met Georgia, it might not have ever happened.

I pull the rented car up to a small, quaint house with the all-American white picket fence out front, and a giant oak tree with a tire swing hanging from its limb that has been there so long the tree has started to grow around the rope itself. Must’ve been left over from Georgia’s childhood. I can imagine a younger version of her, with knobby knees and sun-kissed, long, awkward legs, as she kicked at the ground to push herself higher. Early Christmas lights are hung, gearing up for the holidays, and pumpkins and Indian corn decorate the porch. There are several cars in the driveway.

“My brothers are already here,” Georgia says.

I have to admit, I’m a little intimidated by the idea of meeting her entire family at the same time. There are three brothers in all, two of them fully grown, married, and with kids of their own, as well as a younger brother still in high school.

“Great,” I say. “Can’t wait to meet them.”

I’d hoped to ease into the situation by meeting her parents first and getting them to like me, before meeting the older, protective brothers. I figured if I had the parents’ approval, the brothers would follow suit. Now I have to impress everyone at the same time. I just hope I have it in me.

I’m carrying two bottles of champagne in my arms, the same Dom Perignon that I’d bought for my first evening with Georgia.