9. Cam

"Eric would so kick your ass if he caught you staring at Lusk," I teased with a nudge to Nate's rib cage as the professor entered the lecture hall. I was one to talk since I was ogling him, too.

"Psht. I'm not staring." Nate scowled playfully at me. "And Eric knows I'm his fool." He inclined his chin toward Lusk. "The dude knows how to dress, though. He gets style points for days. Think it'd be weird if I asked him where he got his pants? They might look good on me."

"You couldn't fit those ham hocks in even one leg of those pants."

Nate smirked, and we both eyed Professor Lusk's slacks, cut in a stovepipe style that molded to his ass and tapered slightly, skimming over his long legs. Not a style I could get away with, but Nate was right. In addition to being outright sexy, the guy was a good dresser. I liked his personality, too. He wasn't stuffy like other faculty members who frequented the cafe, and he always tipped well. Hell, he'd shocked me by leaving me a twenty-dollar tip the other morning. I'd looked for a ring when he'd joined me on the bench outside while I ate lunch, which, not gonna lie, had kinda thrilled me a little that he'd even approached, much less had seemed interested in what I was saying. But I hadn't seen one and thought it might be weird to ask him directly, no matter how curious I was. I'd wondered if the guy he often dined with was a boyfriend or friend with benefits, but I couldn't get a good enough read on him. And then the other professor had interrupted. I'd not liked his arrogant attitude or the slightly condescending tone in his voice when he spoke to Professor Lusk. He was exactly the kind of tool I dreaded serving at the cafe.

But what had really thrown me was the offhand comment Lusk had made about keeping it simple. I'd stiffened with tension for a second before I relaxed because there was absolutely no fucking way that wasn't a coincidence. Lots of people used that phrase. I'd heard it earlier that morning when Jesse was debating making chicken and waffles or eggs Benedict and Mark told him to keep it simple because we weren't in a five-star resort, just a bunch of horny heathens living under one roof. Jesse had then told Mark he could eat cereal.

No way a guy like Lusk, with a book deal, an actual sense of style, and a teaching career would ever be caught dead using a glory hole. Which I guess made me the only degenerate around. Besides Nate, who was currently texting rapidly on his phone.

"Hey, what'd you get on your essay draft?" I whispered to Nate as Lusk fiddled with the bag on his desk.

"B minus. You?"

"C." I frowned. I knew this class wasn't an easy A, but I thought I'd laid out my essay draft decently. At least A-minus or above decently. Apparently, Lusk disagreed. Then again, I'd also finished typing it up groggy after my second encounter with glory hole guy because I'd been too keyed up to sleep.

"Overachiever." He nudged me playfully.

Seeming more hurried than usual, Lusk flung open the top flap of his bag, sending a sheaf of papers sitting on the other side of the desk flying.

I barely caught his muttered curse, and then he turned toward the class. "Looks like it's gonna be one of those days, folks. Entertain yourself for five while I get my act together, eh? I'll remain a few minutes after class ends in case anyone wants to discuss their drafts." A disarming grin, one I'd caught here and there outside of class and loved, pierced his usual professionalism.

Chatter erupted, and phones came out as the professor walked around to the other side of the desk to collect the papers. Another girl in the front row rushed up to help him. I couldn't help that my eyes glued themselves to the professor's ass as he moved. I shifted in my seat, and this time, Nate was the one to elbow me with a chuckle. "Perv."

"Psht." I scoffed, mimicking Nate. "I'm not perving. It's right there in the open." I gestured. "Look, half the class is doing the same thing." Okay, maybe it was a third and a healthy mix of guys and girls. But I wasn't alone in my visual appreciation. "Do you know if he has a wife? Or a husband? Kids?"

"Does it matter? He's not gonna be hooking up with you." Nate eyed me askance. "You still avoiding dating? Eric and I could probably find you someone cool to hang out with, see where it goes."

I shook my head. "I'm not…avoiding, exactly. I just haven't come across anything I'm interested in," I deflected. Was it a lie? I wasn't sure. I had trouble defining my interest in my glory hole partner, afraid to read too much into it. Shit, maybe that was a lie, too. I frowned. I'd worked hard not to lie anymore, especially to myself. But that was also the bigger challenge. We lied to ourselves constantly. That was how I'd gotten into trouble with pills in the first place.

"Mm," Nate grunted, which I could tell meant he didn't believe me, but he didn't press further because the professor straightened, setting the stack of papers back on the desk.

The soft notes of a chuckle he exchanged with the girl helping him drifted my way, the sounds of it an inviting rumble that made the tips of my ears tingle. God, I really was turning into a horndog when the sound of someone's laughter could get me going.

I opened my laptop on the table in front of me and pulled up my notes app, searching for a distraction, but Lusk shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants, pulling them impossibly tight across his thighs and hinting at the muscular quads beneath.

He finally started class, but the words filtered in on a delay as I let myself indulge in a tiny little teacher-student fantasy, my gaze running up to the stubble along his well-defined jaw, the big Adam's apple and generous mouth, the hint of humor in his eyes, before making the trip back down the inseam of his pants. Faint impression of a dick print—but enough to make my mouth water—those muscular quads, a peek of plaid on his socks, and then the wingtip shoes. Even those were perfect, a hint of shine on top, the leather broken in enough to suggest he favored them.

I squinted, gaze pinging between the laces and his socks, something about that intersection of leather and pattern nudging my memory.

"Hey." Nate elbowed me and ticked his chin toward the floor. "Are the cum stains noticeable?"

"What?" I whisper-hissed, blanching as he swept his foot to one side to display his gleaming white kicks. I sputtered a laugh and tried to turn it into a cough when I realized the professor was watching me. All the roommates played this stupid game on occasion, trying to get the other in trouble in class. I usually knew exactly what Nate was up to when he tried it on me, but I'd been too distracted.

"Everything alright up there, gentlemen?"

Fuck.

"Sorry, choked on my spit." Wow. I suddenly wished I could crawl inside my laptop and shut it behind me. My ears burned with mortification as Nate put his head down on the desk, shoulders quaking with silent laughter. The only thing that kept me from elbowing him in his side was the way the professor's gaze lingered on me thoughtfully, before he flashed me a humored smile.

"Duly noted. Some take longer to master that basic bodily function than others."

"I'm good. I've swallowed it," I blurted and felt heat rush to my cheeks. God, could this get any worse?

"Thank you for sharing that win with us."

Laughter erupted in the class. Now, the back of my neck was on fire, the only saving grace being that Lusk's expression remained amused rather than scolding.

I spent the rest of class absently taking notes, an odd sensation tickling the back of my mind. My guy at the club had been wearing wingtips, but so had plenty of other men in the club. Maybe my imagination was getting away from me. I mean, probably it was, but I couldn't quell the curiosity zapping my nerves like little strikes of lightning.

I forced myself to stop bouncing my knee when Nate shot a pointed look my way.

"I think that's a good stopping place for now," Lusk said. "We'll reconvene next week." He passed his gaze over the crowd, lighting on me briefly. "No one choke over the weekend."

Ass. But was I secretly kinda thrilled? Yes, I was.

"'Bout to go make Eric choke on my dick," Nate muttered right on cue as he stood and began packing up his things.

"You go ahead. I want to stick around and ask about my essay draft."

Nate gave me a good-natured grin and chucked me on the shoulder. "Alright, overachiever. See you later."

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 a fucking 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.

Mr. Mystery:Apologies for my hasty reply earlier. I was in the middle of something.

Mr. Mystery:I'll be there Saturday and am very much looking forward to it.

I sank against the tiled wall of the bathroom stall and thunked my head against the back.

I had to tell him, right? It would be too dishonest not to say something.

It would end things for sure, though, and I really didn't want that.

I thunked my head against the wall again.

Fuck me for my text timing. I wished I could turn back time and keep my stupid phone in my pocket.

Ignorance was truly bliss.

And fuck Professor Lusk for being hot enough to make a volcano jealous.

I gnawed on my lower lip, an idea forming.

I had to tell him, I had no doubt about that. But maybe, just maybe, I could make him see reason.

We were both consenting adults, after all.