2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Mia
Mia: Girls, my new professor is Dean Davenport
Bella: I don’t understand
Mia: He’s teaching my class
Harper: Why?
Mia: Usual Professor’s had an accident. He’s covering
Ava: Maybe lead with that next time
Bella: Wait, wait, wait. As in the Davenport Davenports?
Mia: The very same
Harper: I just googled him. Holy shit balls
Mia: This is my problem
Bella: He’s your professor, Mia. Nothing is going to happen
Mia: Says the girl who gave her virginity to her dad’s best friend
Bella: Touché
Harper: Also, this is Mia we’re talking about. Anything goes
Mia: My point exactly
Mia: I want to fuck my teacher
Ava: We need cocktails
Bella: Tomorrow? Usual spot?
Mia: It’s a date
***
I walk through the door of the house I recently moved back into. The house I grew up in. Unfortunately, quitting your job and going back to college makes paying rent a little tricky, so I’m back living with mother dearest.
She’s not bad, in fact, as far as moms go, she’s pretty damn decent.
However, we’re completely different people.
I want a job and to be able to depend on myself, not some guy I married for an easy life, and that’s not something she can understand.
It’s also why she can never know that my current professor is none other than a Davenport.
She’d either be setting me up with him or trying to make a move herself.
“Hey, sweetie,” she calls as she comes clipping out of the kitchen in her heels. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother not dressed to kill. High heels are slippers to her and she wears them everywhere; pretty sure she even sleeps in them.
“Hey, Mom.”
“How was your day?”
“It was good, I’ve got some work to do, so I’ll head up to my room.”
“You know you’re never going to meet anyone if you don’t get out and enjoy yourself.” There are very few parents who would try to get their children to study less and go out more, but there you go; that’s my mom for you. And by enjoy yourself, she means meet a man. A rich man.
“I’ll be out with the girls again soon.”
“At least they’re starting to settle down, maybe they’ll start to rub off on you.”
I know without a doubt she’d want me rubbing one off for Hudson. I think I’d like that, too.
“I won’t die alone, Mom. I’ll get myself a dog before that happens.”
“That’s not funny, Mia.”
“Love you,” I yell as I head up the stairs, more than done with the conversation we seem to be having more and more often.
I step through the door of my room, my sanctuary, and flop down on the mattress, my thoughts going straight to a dark-haired, blue-eyed man who is far too old for me.
It doesn’t stop me from thinking about him twenty-four-seven, though.
I feel like Ariel from ‘The Little Mermaid’, pining after a guy she barely knows.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Get it together, Mia, stop thinking about a man you can’t have.
However, a few hours later when I reach for my trusty vibrator, I am definitely still thinking about him.