1. Fletcher

Man, it's a nice day. All sunny and warm, but not too hot. I could stay outside for the rest of the afternoon, but I have a class in about an hour, so it's really only enough time to grab something to eat, and then, it's back to campus.

But when I unlock my apartment door and push it open, I'm instantly greeted by a bombshell blonde with a huge smile on her face. She's clearly not bothered at all that she used her key to break into my place.

"Blair."

She walks right up to me, a brown bag and what looks like a coffee in her hands as she leans in and kisses my cheek. "You know, someday I'll get you guys to call me mom."

I grin at that. She's for sure the closest thing I've ever had to a mother. She's that for Rhett and Bree too—my adopted siblings. We all grew up together in foster care. We saw horrors no kids ever should, and then there was Blair. She and her now-husband, Rhys, scooped us up out of the abyss, and I haven't looked back since.

Okay—that's a lie. A total fucking lie, but it's one I tell myself, and that's what I'm sticking to.

"So Mom," I go over-the-top with the title, and she just shakes her head at me. "What brings you to my apartment today for a little breaking and entering?"

She shoves me slightly, though my sturdy frame doesn't budge, then hands me the bag and coffee. "Well, since you never call your mother, I thought I'd stop by to make sure you weren't dead."

I chuckle at that and open the bag, the smell of my all-time favorite meatball sub hitting my nostrils. "Fuck yes. You went to Mickey's just for me?"

She winks, grabbing her own coffee from my kitchen counter and taking a spot at one of the bar stools at the counter. "I did."

"You're my favorite mother ever," I tease as I take a seat by her. This apartment really isn't your typical college student's place. My parents don't hold back when it comes to their kids—at least the ones who'll let themselves be spoiled.

Rhett was never having that shit. Fought Blair and Rhys tooth and nail every time they wanted to buy him something. I guess I'm different. Blair is a caretaker, and if she wants to spoil me a bit here and there, who the hell am I to stop her?

She wants me to relax and enjoy college, so that's what I'm doing—in my extremely nice, two-bedroom apartment with wood floors and marble countertops. I swear this place is almost as nice as the house I've been lucky enough to call home with Rhys, Blair, Rhett, and Bree.

I smile, thinking about how much that house freaked us all out at first. It's huge. They have a heated outdoor pool, indoor gym, and tons of bedrooms. None of us had ever seen a place so big, so nice, or so clean before.

We all tiptoed around there for what felt like forever before Blair made it very clear that it was our home and she wasn't going to freak out if we broke something or made a mess. She proved her point by throwing a glob of spaghetti at Rhys when we were eating dinner one night.

We were all scared shitless that the large, stoic man would fly off the handle, but he only smirked and tossed some right back at her. Not caring that she was wearing an expensive white blouse.

She then hit Rhett right in the face, and when Bree, Rhett, and I looked at each other, it was like we could finally breathe again. And then it was on. I smile at the memory, and Blair doesn't miss it. "What has you smiling?"

"Just thinking about the spaghetti food fight."

"Ah yes. When you kids finally started trusting me a little bit." She's smiling big, and she has a lightness to her tone, but I know she's not totally unaffected. Man, we were hard on her.

We didn't mean to be. But when you grow up the way we did, it's kind of hard to let people in. All we ever had was each other, and then, here comes Blair and Rhys, loving us for absolutely no reason.

"And then you go and break into my place," I joke. Not only does she pay for this place—she's welcome, no matter what, even if she didn't. But she doesn't point out that she's paying for my whole damn life at the moment.

Nope. Blair isn't like that.

"I missed you," she says as I tear into my sandwich, which has her sighing and grabbing napkins to thrust at me. I take them and wipe at my mouth, even though I'm still busy devouring my food. "Missed you too."

She lets me eat as she sips at her coffee, and when I'm finished, I let out a loud belch and pat my very full stomach.

"Damn, that was good."

"You, my dear son, are a slob," she says, using a spare napkin to wipe at my chin.

"Thanks for lunch, but is everything really okay? Max and Ian?"

She's smiling big, so that's a good sign. Max and Ian only moved in with them a little while ago. They're foster kids like us. Rhett and Grayson, Rhett's boyfriend, met them while volunteering at the city mission downtown. Max wound up in the hospital because of a drunk abusive motherfucker, and the very thought of it sends chills down my spine.

Thoughts of the past come bubbling up, and I have to stand up from the stool and gather my trash, hoping for a distraction.

"They're fine, sweetie." Blair misses nothing. Her hand moves to my wrist, covering it and stopping my hand from shaking.

Max and Ian are safe.

I have to remind myself of that. They're living with Blair, Rhys, and Bree now. They're safe. No one is ever going to hurt them again.

"Deep breaths, honey." Goddammit. I almost hate that she knows me so well. She's standing now, and her hands are on both sides of my face as I struggle to control my rapid breathing. I get control of myself and take in a shaky breath as I look into her eyes.

How does this still happen? Why the hell can't I just move on already?

"Max and Ian are doing well," she says calmly. "Really well. They even like school, and Max has been drawing nonstop." When she smiles, I smile too and then nod my head.

"Good. That's good."

"Nothing is wrong," she says, and I take another deep breath and release it. "Everything is okay. I just missed you."

I force another smile. "I just saw you last week."

"Doesn't mean I didn't miss you, you little shit." she teases, and finally, it's like I come back to myself and am able to actually smile.

"I missed you too."

She releases me and grabs her coffee again, taking a drink. "Good. Anyway I just wanted to make sure you were eating. May have had some groceries delivered and stocked your fridge a bit."

I shake my head at her because she's never stopped taking care of me or my brother and sister since the day she took us in. "Thank you," I say simply, not really wanting to get mushy but so damn grateful all the same.

"When is class?" I'm honestly surprised she doesn't have my schedule memorized, although knowing her, she probably does.

"I have to get going pretty soon. Professor Barlowe hates when I'm late." Which I have been all too often—maybe because I really like it when he gets all growly. Why? Don't ask me. I haven't spent too long examining that, but man, do I love irritating that man.

"So I'm sure you do your best to be on time often then." She gives me a knowing smile.

"Yup. Can't imagine why the guy doesn't like me."

She frowns at that, squishing my cheeks her finger and thumb. "It's impossible not to like you, sweetie."

"You might be a bit biased there, Blair."

She tosses her head back and cackles happily at that. "Walk me out to my car, kiddo. I suppose I'll leave you to it."

I smile at that and walk her out of my apartment, taking the time to lock the door, even though I'm not really sure why. My own mom breaks into my place. My smile is comfortable as I walk with her down to her car. She unlocks it but doesn't open the door yet. "Bree is graduating soon."

I give her a quick nod, not missing the proud yet sad smile on her face. "Yeah, I know."

Bree is my age, but I graduated from high school a year before I was supposed to, along with Rhett's class. "You'll be there?"

I nod. It was already in my plans. "Wouldn't miss it."

She's smiling brightly now. "Good. Grayson and Rhett will be there too, along with a lot of guys from the tattoo shop." I nod along as she lists people off because I have no doubt Blair is going all out for Bree's graduation party, despite my sister likely hating that idea.

But Blair means well. "I'll be there."

She leans in and kisses my cheek. "Good. Now get to class, so you don't upset your professor." She pulls her door open and then gives me a mischievous grin. "Speaking of professors..." She waggles her eyebrows at me, "Any hotties?"

I nearly choke on my own spit in surprise—why I'm surprised at this point with Blair, I'm really not sure. The woman never holds back. "What? No."

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you don't have a thing for a hot older professor. I totally get it. And back in college?—"

"Mom," I say exaggeratedly, my hand dragging over my face. "I'm begging you not to finish that sentence."

She chuckles, "Oh, you know it's only Rhys for me now. Doesn't mean I didn't have a life before that. A naughty one." She waggles her eyebrows at me, and I fake gag.

"Please stop," I beg.

She rolls her eyes at me and tosses her hands, like I'm the crazy one. "Fine. I won't go there, but there's nothing wrong with a little professor/college student lovin'."

I stare at her and then shake my head, laughing. "Pretty sure it's against school rules, and I'm also pretty sure you aren't supposed to encourage that as a parent."

She waves me off easily. "You're an adult, Fletcher. Live a lot."

I can't help laughing, still shaking my head at the best woman I've ever known. God, do I love her. "The saying is live a little."

"Eh, life is short. Live a lot. Love a lot." She brushes her hand over my cheek, and I lean into it just a little. "But be safe. Condoms and all that stuff." She winks, and I shake my head yet again and sigh.

"Bye, Blair."

"Bye sweetie." She blows me a kiss as she climbs into her car and shuts the door. I wave to her, and after she leaves, I start the short walk to campus. I can't help but think on the way to my Economics class about the conversation with Blair.

Why the hell didn't I admit that maybe I do have a little bit of a crush on a professor? It's not like Blair isn't cool with it—hell, way too damn cool with it, in fact.

But as I walk along the sidewalk on campus, taking in the freshly cut green grass, I know why I didn't fess up to it. Because when Blair was talking about a hot professor, no doubt, she was assuming there was a bossy, strong female type who caught my eye. Which would be my type.

In fact, I have one female professor who fits that description to a T, but it isn't her who's invaded my dreams—both at night and during the day. No, Professor Crawford is fine, even a little flirty, but she's not on my mind.

She doesn't get my blood flowing and my mind stuck on lengthy dirty fantasies.

The professor I can't stop thinking about has dark, short hair that's perfectly tousled, like he spends far too much time running his fingers through it when he's frustrated—which is a lot, if my time around him is any indication.

He's always wearing a suit or dress shirt and pants, all buttoned-up and serious, making me wonder what's underneath those stuffy clothes. I know it's a hard, muscular body. There's no doubt in my mind he's firm and solid, perfectly sculpted. I've wasted countless hours picturing just what he looks like naked.

Does he have hair covering his body? Or is he mostly bare? Is he defined with no fat at all, or does he have some cushioning? Honestly, I wouldn't care either way, for the record. My instincts tell me it's the former. I haven't seen a hint of extra weight on the man.

But he's a mystery, that's for damn sure.

He wears a little bit of scruff most of the time, neatly trimmed, but you couldn't really call it a beard. His eyes are a dark hazel that burn into my soul as he lectures me for being too loud and tardy all too often.

His lips are a soft, pale pink that look so soft, it makes my mouth water, thinking about getting a taste. Just one. I'd give anything for that moment of bliss I know it would be.

Professor Ronan Barlowe letting his guard down and giving in just for a moment.

What would that be like?

Heaven.That's all I can imagine it would be. Then hell, when he'd undoubtably push me away. Because one thing I know from an entire semester of being obsessed with the man is he doesn't let his guard down—not ever.

And though Blair would have been totally cool with it, all of it, if I'd have told her, I just couldn't.

Because everyone thinks I'm straight.

When I'm really, really . . . not.