Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“Kit, wake up or we’ll be late!”
Groaning, he pushed his eyes open—and stared.
He was in his dorm.
He hadn’t seen this dorm in fifteen years.
Slowly, he sat up and looked around. Everything looked as he remembered: the walls, the mess on his desk, even his roommate Tom.
He walked to the mirror and stared at his reflection.
Red hair, blue eyes. No wrinkles, no stress lines.
He looked so young.
“Kit, what’s wrong with you? Hurry up! Professor Lawson will have our hides if we’re late!”
Professor Lawson.
A mix of dread and excitement knotted up his stomach.
Kit still wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t just a vivid, elaborate dream—until they entered the lecture hall and he found himself staring at the familiar, tall figure behind the teacher’s desk.
Professor Mark Lawson. His deepest regret. The biggest what-if of his life. The man Kit hadn’t seen in nearly fifteen years.
Not in person, at least. He’d looked him up.
Googled him. He knew Professor Lawson had married—would marry another man seven years from now and adopt two kids.
Every time Kit had seen the pictures of the family, he’d felt a horrible, hollow feeling in his stomach.
He could so easily imagine himself as part of that family, as the dad to those adorable kids, as Mark’s husband.
Mark’s husband looked quite a bit like Kit.
It could’ve been a coincidence, but... It ate at him, the what-ifs.
It felt like that man had stolen a life that should have been his.
Kit knew it didn’t really work like that.
But. He was pretty sure there had been something between him and Professor Lawson.
A spark. An attraction that had gone unacknowledged because Mark Lawson had been his professor and any relationship between them would have been impossible—or so Kit had told himself.
Professor Lawson was a stern, strict man of unwavering principles.
Kit knew there was no way he would ever engage in an affair with a student, a student twelve years his junior, so Kit hadn’t even tried to make a move.
It would have been pointless and too humiliating to show the professor he admired how hopelessly infatuated with him he’d been.
But Kit wasn’t twelve years his junior now. He was a thirty-six-year-old man in the body of a twenty-one-year old. Mentally he was actually a few years older than his professor now. There would be nothing immoral about it—well, besides the little fact that Kit was still his student.
“Christopher, you’re late,” Mark said, fixing his striking green eyes on him.
Kit’s mouth went dry. “I’m sorry, professor,” he said, wetting his lips with his tongue.
Mark just looked at him for a moment before saying in a clipped voice, “Take a seat.”
Kit walked to the empty front row and sat down.
He was only vaguely aware of Tom taking a seat at the back, but that wasn’t unusual—no one wanted to sit here.
Mark Lawson was infamously strict, his standards sky-high, and few students wanted to draw his attention the way Kit did by sitting alone in the front row.
Tom called him a teacher’s pet. Tom probably wasn’t wrong.
Speaking of Tom, Mark hadn’t even glanced at him, even though they’d both been late. That had to mean something. Right?
Setting the thought aside to examine later, Kit focused on the lecture. Well, he tried to. But all he could seem to register was Mark’s low, smooth voice. He wouldn’t be able to repeat a word the man said if his life depended on it.
Human memory was strange—capable of exaggerating events until they hardly matched reality. But Kit hadn’t misremembered how Mark had made him feel. His stomach fluttered with awful butterflies, and the sound of Mark’s voice felt almost like a physical touch.
He’d forgotten how magnetic this man was in person.
Mark was handsome in a harsh, understated way, his vibrant green eyes and dark brown hair a striking contrast against his pale skin, but his attractiveness wasn’t solely based on his looks.
He had a way of looking at you as if his entire focus was on you and you alone, his attention overwhelming in its intensity.
It made Kit desperate for his every look—and dread them.
He’d forgotten how easily excitable his body was at this age. By thirty-six, his body no longer responded so easily; merely looking at the object of his desire wasn’t enough. At twenty-one, a single glance had him half-hard without even trying. Or maybe it wasn’t just his age. Maybe it was the man.
Either way, Kit couldn’t seem to focus on the lecture. All he could focus on was the fine shape of Mark’s firm mouth and his smooth, low voice.
Unfortunately, his inattention came back to bite him in the ass when Mark said, “Christopher? Can you tell us why it’s impossible?”
Kit blinked dumbly at him, meeting those piercing eyes. A flush spread over his face, probably turning it an unattractive shade of pink, which always clashed horribly with his red hair.
No one else in his life had ever called him Christopher, not even his parents. He’d always been Kit. In fact, he disliked being called by his full name. But he’d never corrected Mark when he addressed him that way. It felt... special. He loved the way his name rolled off the man’s tongue.
“Sorry, professor,” he said softly. “I wasn’t listening.”
A murmur spread through the lecture hall. Apparently, it was shocking that he wasn’t behaving like the know-it-all teacher’s pet everyone expected him to be.
Mark’s eyes narrowed slightly but he looked away and resumed the lecture.
Kit wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.
In his past—his original past—he had never disappointed his favorite professor.
In fact, he’d gone out of his way to learn the subject ahead of the syllabus, desperate to impress Mark with his knowledge.
He’d craved his approval and praise to an embarrassing degree.
Unfortunately, it seemed he still did, even at thirty-six. Christ, this was pathetic. He wasn’t even actually a student. He wasn’t here to earn good grades.
He was here to do what he hadn’t dared to do fifteen years ago—even if he had to sacrifice his pride for it.
When Mark handed out a short assignment near the end of class, Kit stared down at the blank sheet of paper before him.
Then he took a pen and wrote,
I’m in love with you.
His stomach was a knot of anxiety when he laid his note on his professor’s desk, his fingers trembling.
“Done already?” Mark said.
Kit nodded mutely.
Mark frowned as he opened the sheet of paper.
He stared at it.
Minutes—or what felt like minutes—dragged by before he lifted his eyes.
Kit swallowed, his face burning. Why had he thought this was a good idea, exactly?
“I believe you did the wrong assignment by mistake, Mr. Keaton,” Mark said evenly, returning the paper to him.
Kit wet his lips with his tongue. “I don’t think so. I put care into every word.”
Something flashed in Mark’s eyes. He held Kit’s gaze for a moment before saying stiffly, “Stay after class.”
Kit returned to his seat. Mark didn’t look at him for the rest of the period.
Time dragged.
When class finally ended, Kit approached Mark’s desk, feeling distinctly off balance. He’d never been in this situation before, so he had no idea what to expect.
But Mark’s gaze wasn’t harsh as he lifted his eyes to him. It was… uncomfortable? That wasn’t right, either. There was something in those eyes, a strange kind of intensity.
“I will not report you, but I don’t want to see such messages again.”
Kit swallowed.
“I...” Kit was about to apologize, but then he stopped and thought about it.
This chance—if this was real and not actually some amazingly vivid dream—had been given to him to fix his greatest regret: letting this man walk out of his life without even trying to keep him.
What did he have to lose, really? He already knew how his life would turn out if he did nothing.
If he kept clinging to his pride, scared of rejection, if he gave up that easily, in a month, this man would disappear out of his life, and some fifteen years later, Kit would end up in an empty apartment with a pathetic Christmas tree no one would even see. Alone and unwanted.
Yet thy pride shall be the price thereof. That was what the book had said. His life could be changed only if he sacrificed his pride. This was his chance to do better. To do what he hadn’t dared to do in his original past.
His heart beating faster, Kit took a step forward, and then another and another, before straddling Mark’s lap.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mark said, his body going rigid. But he wasn’t shoving him away.
Kit wasn’t sure. He didn’t let that stop him.
He laid his hand on the other man’s chest. He could feel its warmth and firmness even through the pale blue shirt Mark was wearing.
“Christopher,” Mark said, his voice terse. Strained. His heart was beating fast under Kit’s palm. In anger? Or something else?
“I’m sorry,” Kit said, meeting his gaze.
“But I know I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t do this.
” Leaning in, he did what he’d always burned to do: put his mouth on the mouthwatering spot on his professor’s neck just above his tie and sucked.
He nearly moaned, his senses assaulted by the man’s taste and scent.
Oh god oh god oh god. He smelled so good, woodsy and masculine.
Kit wanted to drown in him, to suck hickeys into his skin, to swallow him whole.
After a few long, blissful moments, he felt hands on his shoulders. They shoved him off Mark’s lap.
Kit yelped as he landed on the floor. Mark got to his feet.
“I will pretend this didn’t happen,” Mark said stiffly, buttoning his jacket with jerky movements. He didn’t quite look Kit in the eye. “Leave.”