I had to keep control of my libido and the raging current of desire that flowed through my body at just the sight of him. Then there was that deep baritone voice that made me weak in the knees. I mean, I fucking fell as soon as I was in his presence. I went into a catatonic state at the thought of touching him. My heart almost exploded, staring into his eyes.
He’s a fucking junior with the reality of being in school for another two to three years. It might take him seven years to graduate, and I understand the reasons, even if I don’treallyunderstand them. Sports… Soccer… it might as well be a lost language that I can’t fathom. But according to the dean, it’s a valid reason for jocks to take a very long time to get their bachelor's degree. I find it weird, and I don’t think letting them do that is very helpful to the student in the long run.
But the way he made me feel… was beyond anything that I had ever experienced before. My body revolted against me because of him. There is no way that… No! It’s absolutely impossible. Being an omega, I knew that one day this could happen – I did. But… I decline.
I have to.
I’m his professor. It’s completely against every code and professional etiquette to fall in love – lust – whatever, with a student. It can’t happen, and I have to get out of this arrangement at all costs. If I can keep the distance between us – I can avoid the connection that threatens to tear me apart. He’s…
Jesus Christ!
He’s young, and I know that I’m not old. I’m only eight years older than he is, but in reality, I am decades beyond him. I graduated college for one. I got my master's and spent two years as a starving artist before landing here. I had a life. I mean, I have a life, and he hasn’t even really started his yet.
Darren has never struggled in his life. He’s fucking rich. His family has enough money that it’s made the dean a greedy monster. We have nothing in common. He’s into sports, and I’m into anything other than sports.
I know what it is I have to do, and I have to make it happen tonight at the department mixer. Dean Remington won’t be happy about it, but at least he won’t murder me in front of everyone in attendance. It’s the safest place to corner him and have this conversation. I think. Honestly, it could be a horrible idea, but I have to take the chance. I can’t let this go on. It’s not fair to either Darren or myself.
The beginning of the year mixer was where I met my two best friends. This year, Dean Remington decided that the best day for this event would be a Thursday when we had to go to work the next day. He’s a sadist. I think he enjoys messing with his professors and keeping us on our toes by making everything he invites us to super inconvenient. He must get a sick joy out of it.
I didn’t even have time to go home and change today. I finished my last student and walked over to the building that the students affectionately called the Bursuck. The Bunny Rodgers Student Union Center was the one building on this campus that stood out like a sore thumb. I suppose it was super modern in the 1990s, but it now felt like an eyesore. This campus had been around for over a hundred years, and the architecture was beautiful and anything but modern. That building, with all of its glass and concrete, looked like a mistake compared to everything else.
I walked through the doors and made my way upstairs past all of the food options the center presented for the students and staff. I rarely came over here since it was on the other side of campus – close to the dorms. The mixer was up on the top floor, where all of the ballrooms were located.
A silver and forest green banner hung in front of the open doors with a welcome written in a scripted font. The dean’s secretary stood outside the door with her clipboard. Sandra Ailey was a hard woman with deep frown lines and an attitude that could cut you before she even noticed your presence. I walked up to her and waited for her to acknowledge my existence. She looked at me and rolled her eyes.
“Professor Elder.” She checked her clipboard and crossed out my name. “Have a great time.” Her voice sounded more like a threat than an invitation. I tried to steer clear of her as much as I could. Thankfully the secretary for the music department was much sweeter than Sandra. Sandra scared the shit out of me.
I walked in and glanced around at all of the various professors milling around. The line for the bar was quite long, which always annoyed me. Silver and green banners hung from the walls. My favorite, and the one that made me laugh the most, readUS College Rowing Champs 1989as if that was the last year that anything exciting happened to this college. Maybe it was true? As I said, sports are not my thing, and I had only been here for one year.
Signs stood on easels around small groupings of tables with the name of each department that existed in the college of arts and humanities. English, foreign languages, theatre, art, and music stood out in large black letters, so we all knew where we belonged. I shook my head and looked around for…
There they were. My friends had chosen a table near the bar over in the far corner, as far away from everyone else as possible. Doc and Triple P waved at me as I avoided passing people who I didn’t feel like speaking to. Robert held up a bottle of beer that he must have gotten for me, so I headed right over.
“What’s happening, gentlemen?” I slid between them, and Preston bumped me with his shoulder in greeting.
“Listening to Robert complain about the historical inaccuracies of classic film.” Preston groaned.
“We shouldn’t change history for a better story. Kids today start believing that bullshit.”
“Except for Hamilton, though.” Preston, Triple P leaned against the table. “Even old Doc there has a hard-on for genius.”
“It made me like rap.” I grinned at the fabulously ridiculous conversation I had walked into.
“I’ve always liked rap music.” Robert narrowed his eyes. “2 Live Crew is still my go-to when a student pisses me off.”
“Where’s your beer?” I slapped Preston on the shoulder gently.
“I’m feeling off. This nausea’s been horrific. I either ate something that’s disagreeing with me or maybe I’m coming down with something.”
“Let’s hope you’re not sick 'cause we’re right here beside you, and I don’t need your germs.” I took a step towards Doc.
“I’m not sticking my tongue down either of your throats, so I think you’ll survive.” Triple P rolled his eyes in the way that only he could.
“Still dealing with it, huh? You do look a little peaked. What did you have for lunch?” Doc asked.
“Nothing. It was even worse this morning.”
“It was, hmm…” Doc grinned and nodded his head. “Any other weirdness going on?”
