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I am officially the fucking worst.
That’s the only thing I can think as I sit in the staff meeting for all the criminal justice professors. A meeting for which I was twenty minutes late. I’d hurt Skyler in a panic, thinking that the dean of the school was going to show up at my office and pull me out of her by my hair.
He would then proceed to fire me and black ball me from all the schools in D.C., and that would just be the end to a fucking fantastic year. And who knows what would happen to her? Could they kick her out for getting involved with a teacher? I can still see the sad look in her eyes as she pulled her dress on, not even bothering to put on a bra before she succumbed to the tears I know she was hiding. I can’t let her transfer out of my class.
Why the fuck not? You clearly can’t be her teacher.
Because then she’ll be behind a semester. My particular class is needed before she can take any others in her major, and delaying it a semester would deter her from graduating on time. Am I that selfish that I would put her in that predicament?
Probably.
My eyes dart around the room, jumping from person to person who is trying their best not to side-eye the new guy that had no regard for anyone’s time by being twenty minutes late.
Being the new guy amongst tenured professors is hard. Being the new guy when you are younger and more advanced in their field makes it even harder.
The meeting ends rather quickly, making me wonder why it was so important that I be here in the first place, and why I couldn’t have been emailed the details of what I missed. Then I wouldn’t have snapped at Skyler and I wouldn’t feel like I’m the motherfucking worst.
I drop my bag the second I get home, heading straight for the refrigerator to grab a beer before I sink like a log on the couch. My stomach turns at the thought of seeing Skyler tomorrow.
If she even shows up.
Later that night, I’m sitting at my desk in my apartment, attempting to prepare for my lecture tomorrow when my phone pings with a text message notification. It manages to pull my attention from the PowerPoint I’d half-heartedly put together that even I think is mind-numbing. I look down and my dick twitches when I see her name flashing across the screen. I stare at it for a second, wondering what would come of her texting me at eleven thirty at night.
Open it, my dick urges me.
Calm the fuck down, she’s not going to fuck you again.
I’ve slid my thumb across the phone before I can convince myself to ignore her message.
Skyler: My advisor wouldn’t let me transfer out. Guess you’re stuck with me. Oh yeah, also fuck you.
Aidan: I can’t say I’m not pleased. This is for the best, you don’t want to be behind.
Skyler: Why do you even fucking care? You treated me like complete shit today, don’t be nice to me now.
Aidan: Of course I care. Skyler, I’m sorry.
Skyler: This is the second time you’ve been a dick to me. I can MAYBE give you a pass for the first one because you were caught off guard. But today was bullshit.
Aidan: I know…
Skyler: Well, whatever. I just wanted to let you know that you’d see me tomorrow.
Aidan: I look forward to it.
Skyler: I don’t.
Aidan: I’m sorry to hear that.
She doesn’t respond despite my staring at the phone, willing her to. It isn’t until ten minutes later that my phone vibrates again, indicating a phone call. I don’t hesitate to answer.
“Skyler?”
“Hello, it’s me. Yes. I mean…hi. Okay, let’s get something straight.” I hear her slur and now I understand the reasons for her texts and her calls. She clears her throat. “We are not having sex ever again.”
I grit my teeth and the words taste awful coming out of my mouth. My dick strains against my sweats hearing her words as cum pools at the tip. “I know.”
“Even though you are great at it.”
