THREE
DAKOTA
My bedroom door slammed open, and someone yanked back my curtains.
“Let’s go! You can’t be late every day!” My mother reprimanded.
She snatched my blanket from me, and I was nearly blinded by the light. I groaned, burying my face between my pillows as I laid on my stomach.
“I’ll just stay in today,” I mumbled.
Winter was creeping up, so the atmosphere was cold and eerie, but some days we were lucky and still got a few rays of sunlight. Today was another one of those gloomy days.
“Nonsense. Come on,” she insisted, and I could hear her smiling. I irritably groaned again, rolling onto my back to look at her.
I held my arms out towards her, and she took my hands in hers, pulling me up. She kissed my forehead, and I smiled.
“What do you want for breakfast?” she beamed in excitement, and I ran my hands up and down my bare arms, rubbing away the goosebumps.
“Pancakes?” my shoulders lifted eagerly, and she nodded before leaving.
I turned on Love Is A Battlefield by Pat Benatar as I danced around my room then slipped into a steaming hot shower. I sighed in satisfaction, allowing the warm water to wrap around me, heating every inch of my skin.
With a towel around my body, I plopped down in front of my vanity mirror, doing my make-up. I hummed the tune, bobbing my head back and forth until my bedroom door opened, and my mom walked in. She closed the door behind herself and looked startled.
“Your dad wants bacon and eggs with avocado on toast,” she lowered her tone, and I turned around to face her. “He needs to leave so I won’t be able to make the pancakes in time for you, I’m sorry,” she apologized, hugging herself and my stomach flipped.
Dad and I left around the same time so my mom could only make the same breakfast for both of us.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I shook my head, noticing the slight tremble in her voice. “We could always have pancakes another time,” I smiled as I approached her.
Her glistening eyes told me that she must’ve suggested pancakes but it didn’t go over well with him. I hated that he didn’t speak kindly to her.
With a subtle deep breath in, I took her hands in mine to pull her to the middle of my room. I turned up the song and watched her smile.
Dancing Queen by ABBA played as I spun her around, my lips stretching into the biggest smile. I held her hands in mine as I danced, singing along to the lyrics.
“You’re so silly,” she chuckled, shaking her head, and I started moving around, encouraging her to dance with me, and soon she did.
This song was special to her because she fell pregnant with me when she was only sixteen. Her parents neglected her out of anger and disappointment and refused to celebrate her seventeenth birthday with her—and every birthday that followed. So, instead, she celebrated the day with me.
On my seventeenth birthday she played this song and when it was time to blow out the candles, I let her sit in my chair and do it instead.
It meant more to her than it did to me, and I’d give anything to see the strong woman—my mother—be the happiest version of herself. She was brave enough to raise me and take responsibility, never once making me feel like a burden.
Completely out of breath I fell back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. She sat down beside me and let out a soft chuckle.
“I have no classes between 11:30 a.m. and 13:00 today. How about we go out for brunch?” I asked, looking at her, and she smiled.
“That sounds lovely.”
* * *
After breakfast I said goodbye to my parents and made my way to campus.
I was especially nervous because I had missed an email from Professor Hale, letting me know that he wanted to address the inadequate grades that I obtained during the semester thus far. He was solemnly concerned.
Oh, please. He was only ‘solemnly concerned’ because he didn’t want anyone failing his class. Not that I necessarily was…
I attended two classes before heading over to the library for some study time.
After an hour, I got up and checked out the books. The librarian was a young, dirty blonde woman who always wore red lipstick and had long red manicured nails.
She popped her bubblegum, typing on her computer, and I patiently waited. Her nails clicked the letters, making the most noise in here.
I looked at the time and realized I had to get to class. After she eventually finished, I grabbed my things and rushed to class, catching Solace on the way.
We slipped in just in time with a couple of others, and she winked at me before we sat down.
Someone—Professor Hale—was dressed even more handsome today than he was yesterday. You’re telling me it gets better every day?
He shot me a look that made my insides tingle before starting his lecture.
I watched him teach the subject he seemed to be passionate about. He answered all the questions we had without hesitation and didn’t mind dumbing it down for us.
He was even kind enough to come to Solace’s desk when she wanted to show and ask him something. I caught a whiff of his cologne, and it was like all my senses went haywire. Fresh, musky, masculine.
He placed one hand down on her desk, and used the other hand to point to something on her laptop and my God… How can someone’s hands be so goddamn attractive?
I crossed my legs underneath the table as I trailed my eyes over his long, skinny fingers with perfectly clean cut fingernails. The rings on his fingers and veins on his hands settled right between my thighs. Oh girl, snap out of it.
He tapped his pointer finger against the desk as he spoke, and it was as though I could feel it between my thighs, right on my— no. That’s so fucking inappropriate, Dakota. God, what is wrong with you?
I tried to focus my attention on the notes I was making until Solace finally thanked him, and he gave her a nod before leaving. Suddenly, I could breathe. My chest sank with a heavy exhale, and once again, I crossed my legs.
After class finally ended, I waited for everyone to leave before I packed up all my things. I noticed one of the girls at his desk, and he crossed his arms over his chest, speaking to her.
As soon as she left, he lifted his eyes to me.
“You wanted to address my inadequate grades that you were solemnly concerned about,” I humorously quoted him, and he rounded his desk, sitting back down. I couldn’t resist.
Stepping forward, I watched him pull up my grades so far, and cringed. This is so embarrassing.
“The result of constantly arriving late,” he stated, and I dropped my arms at my side.
“Oh, come on,” I sighed in defeat. “It’s not my fault.
I barely understood what the man was saying.
I self-studied after all the lessons, including on weekends, and I even asked Solace for help.
I’m trying here.” My previous educator, professor Taylor, was good at his job, I just couldn’t quite understand his ways of teaching.
“Not hard enough, that is,” he casually added, typing away and my eyes narrowed into slits. “Have you perhaps tried a qualified educator to assist you?” he questioned.
“Like a tutor? No, I haven’t,” I sarcastically shook my head. “And it’s just us. You don’t have to be so formal.”
He blatantly ignored my statement. “How about tomorrow evening at five?” he asked, lifting his eyes to meet mine. “Six works too.”
“You’re setting me up with a tutor? Who?” I asked, and he subtly ran his tongue across his top teeth. He gave me a slight head tilt that screamed, ‘Go on. I’ll give you a second’.
“Oh, you mean you’re going to tutor me?”
“Smart girl,” he nodded with a sarcastic edge, looking back at his laptop, and I suppressed a smile. Smart girl.
“I appreciate it, really, but I don’t think you should waste your time. I’ll figure it out,” I shrugged, turning to leave but his voice stopped me.
“It’s non-negotiable. I was simply asking what time suited you best.”
His voice held that stern dominance that I only heard once before, and for some reason, it excited me. I paused for a second then turned to see him leaning back in his desk chair, hands crossed on his lap.
“5 p.m. tomorrow. Six is too late,” I said, and he gave me a single nod.
I watched him lean forward to dot something down on a piece of paper before lifting it towards me. “Don’t lose it.”
I approached him, taking the piece of paper.
He got to his feet, walked around his desk, and I looked down, seeing his address and phone number. “And my number is not for your personal use.” As if.
“Oh heavens, I wouldn’t dare,” I forced a sarcastic smile, looking up at him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss King,” he dismissed me, and in my peripheral vision, I picked up on movement. Someone entered. It was the man from last night. Tall and lean. He was dressed formally.
I headed for the door. “Excuse me,” I barely addressed him as I exited the classroom.
Hurrying down the hallway, I chewed the inside of my cheek in thought until it hit me. He’s Solace’s mathematics professor. I remembered because she said he had this sexy old soul energy to him. I’ve only seen him twice around the campus.
Once with her after class and once when Josh Anderson—my creepy ex—grabbed me. He was quick to step in but didn’t care to stay long enough for me to thank him.
I looked back as the distance between us grew, and my anxiety sparked up again.
* * *
With a fleeting pulse and sweaty palms, I clutched my hands together in front of me as I stood at the door of one of the largest mansions I had seen in person. This is the correct address, right?
I dug in my handbag for the little piece of paper with his address, and I could feel my stomach twist in anticipation.
The door opened, and my head snapped up, revealing Professor Hale.
He was dressed more comfortably, in black, loose fitting pants with a navy blue t-shirt that hugged his bulging biceps. The material clung to his slutty little waist and my eyes snapped back up to meet his. It’s rude to stare, Dakota.