Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
WARREN
Another morning waking up with cum covering my belly and my spent dick resting against my thigh.
Will I ever get that night out of my mind? Or stop having wet dreams about it?
I’m an almost forty-year-old man hung up on men fifteen years younger than me. It’s embarrassing.
I would call Em and vent to her, but I think she’s tired of hearing about my dilemma. There are only so many ways she can tell me to get my head out of my ass.
But what am I supposed to do? Have an affair with two students? I could lose my job and ruin my reputation. The same thoughts that have run through my head for the past few weeks, but every day, they ring more hollow, meaning less than smoke in the wind.
Blowing out an annoyed breath, I roll out of bed and head to my bathroom. Instead of just cleaning my belly, I start the shower and step in, my body relaxing under the warm spray.
As I push my hair back, letting the water massage my scalp, I try to think my way out of my dilemma. But all I come up with is proposing the three of us keep our hookups a secret until one or both of them graduate. But fuck, that’s a long time to keep a secret.
I need to get over this shit. I need to forget about the two men that turned my life upside down.
After I’m done with my shower, a towel wrapped around my waist, I march into my room, grab my phone, and open the dating app I downloaded all those days ago.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I scroll through my options. There are plenty, lots of good-looking men looking for a good time, but none catch my attention…
…until I see a handsome Black guy with an alternative style that reminds me of Thorne and a bright smile that reminds me of Chance. If I can’t have them, I can at least get someone that looks like them and explore.
Before I can think better of it, I swipe on him. A ping sounds and says we’re a match.
My heart rate kicks up, and I toss my phone away, not knowing what to do. I didn’t think I’d get a hit at all, what with how plain I look.
Apprehension settles in my gut. Did I do something wrong by going on the site? Should I not have? I’m single, but would it be fair to give my attention to someone when I can’t stop thinking about Thorne and Chance?
No taking it back now. But I need some time to wrap my head around meeting someone online. Does he want a date? Or maybe he just wants sex?
I’m so out of my depth.
Not wanting to be at home any longer—though my first class isn’t for another few hours—I get dressed and head into work.
As I sit in my car, I look in my rearview mirror and wished I’d blown my hair dry—the delicate waves bracket my face, making me look more like Em than I ever have.
There’s nothing I can do about that now, so I put my car in gear and drive to school. I might have a few papers to grade, or I can update my lesson plans or something. I just can’t be in my house, surrounded by the four walls I’ve spent weeks staring at when I try to stop jerking off to memories.
I arrive twenty minutes later, the campus a ghost town this early in the morning. I’ll be ready for a nap by the time my first class starts, but I’ll just crash when I get home.
As I walk to the tech building, I see Chance leaving the natatorium, a bag slung over his shoulder and his hair damp and hanging in his face. He hasn’t spotted me. I could let him go on about his business and speed walk to my office, but I don’t. I’m in a mood.
Calling out to him, he looks up in shock, as if he didn’t expect anyone else to be here.
I do a silly little walk-jog sort of thing to meet him by the building, my cheeks flaming as I try to meet his eyes but fail.
When I’m standing in front of him, I have to fight not to lean in and breathe in the intoxicating scent of chlorine that still blankets his skin, though I can tell he took a shower before leaving practice.
Why did I stop him? What did I hope to accomplish?
Clearing my throat, I say, “Hey. You’re up early.”
Thumbing toward the natatorium, he says, “We have two-a-days to get ready for the invitational next week. Are you going to come?”
I shrug my bag higher on my shoulder, feeling my blush creep lower down my neck. “I don’t think… Is that a good idea?”
His eyes roam my face, a heated glint entering his gaze as they land on my crotch. My traitorous dick thickens behind my fly, but I use my bag to cover myself. Getting his attention was not the best idea.
When he’s looked his fill, Chance meets my gaze and says, “It doesn’t have to mean anything. The whole school will probably be there.” Stepping closer to me, he drops his voice and says, “It would mean a lot to me if you came.”
Releasing a shuddering breath, I take a step back. “I’ll think about it.” Finally getting the courage to meet his light brown gaze, I ask, “Are you…are you okay?” He ticks up an eyebrow. “You started sitting in the back of my class and you race away when I dismiss you. Are you okay?”
He sighs, toeing a crack in the sidewalk. “No, I’m not. Not really.”
“What’s wrong?” I shouldn’t want to get into his business, but I can’t leave him like this. Chance strikes me as a vulnerable man, someone that’s not taken seriously or treated right in his life. Does he have someone that he trusts to talk to and unload?
“Shit at home,” he answers. “My dad and his Olympics bullshit.”
“Ah. Do you not want to go?” He looks up at me in shock, mouth parted as he gasps. “I’m sorry,” I rush to say. “I just assumed you didn’t with how you look when you talk about it. Is that…am I out of line?”
“No,” Chance says with a small laugh. “You’re actually the only person that guessed so easily.” He releases a long breath, like the confession unburdened him. “You’re not out of line and no, I don’t want to go to the Olympics.”
“Have you told your dad you don’t want to go?” I ask delicately.
He shakes his head. “I’m going to wait until after the season.
I don’t want him to show up here causing any bullshit and pressure me to go to the trials.
After a certain date, I can’t register. I won’t tell him and there won’t be any strings he can pull to make Olympic officials add me to the roster. ”
It’s a genius plan, though I feel bad that he’s under so much pressure to make his father happy when it’s not what he wants.
My parents were overbearing, but the opposite way.
They wanted me to be more like Emma, not taking life too seriously and living my life while I’m still young.
I’m not sure what I would have done if they’d tried to force and shame me into not following my dream to be a professor.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, not knowing what else to say. “Anything I can do?”
Chance shakes his head. “Nah. It means a lot that you ask, though.”
“How’s the start of your year going? Enjoying your classes?”
“Yeah, they’re good. Not as easy as last year, but I’m having a good time.”
We stand in awkward silence for a few moments, not knowing how to bridge the gap between our easy banter at the airport and now.
Finally, I ask, “Are you…are you as conflicted as I am?”
There. It’s out there. He can either tell me yes or that I’m out of my fucking mind. He’ll probably tell me it’s all in my head and—
“Too conflicted,” he says, eyes sad. “I just…” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I know it’s not smart. For you. But…I don’t think it’s wrong. I’m stuck between asking you and Thorne to try and knowing I need to keep my fucking mouth shut.”
My breath freezes in my lungs. He wants this. He wants to…try.
I can’t think. My brain is turned off. I wish I hadn’t asked because now I can’t think of anything else.
Licking my lips, I take a step away from him, shaking my head a few times to clear it. “I uh…I gotta go. I’ll…I’ll see you later.”
I take a few steps in the direction of my building when Chance calls my name. Steeling myself, I turn to him, waiting a few seconds for him to speak.
When he does, my head swims and a full body flush tingles my skin.
“I like your hair like that.”
My smile is front and center on my face as I walk to my office, though I try to wipe it free.
I stop short when I see a letter taped to my door. After a few moments hesitation, I snatch it off and go sit behind my desk. Grabbing the envelope, I rip it open and freeze.
“What the fuck?” I whisper as I read and reread the letter.
I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU!
NO ONE WILL LOVE YOU MORE THAN ME!
WE BELONG TOGETHER!
Umm…
Yeah, weird, but not the first time I’ve had someone tape shit to my door. There are a bunch of frats here and rush week starts soon. I’m sure one of the frats had their pledges post these on all the professors’ doors as a dare.
Balling the paper up, I toss it away and lean back in my chair, twisting my fingers in my wavy hair.
I’m not sure what to do about Chance and Thorne. It’s probably best I forget about them and move on with my life.
Easier said than done.