Professor Romance: Best of Penny Wylder by Penny Wylder

Author:Penny Wylder [Wylder, Penny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-23T23:00:00+00:00

7

Georgia

I can’t believe we did it right there in his classroom. Things are getting out of hand. Serena knows about us. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the school does, too. I doubt someone like her will keep it to herself for long. What does she care about grades or getting into a good graduate school? Her parents are probably alumni and she has a free ticket as long as she passes.

The next day in chemistry, Loche is late like usual. My eyes fall immediately to his empty desk when I walk in the room. My gaze lingers there until laughter around me grows loud enough to get my attention. When I look up to see what all the laughter is about, my heart squeezes as if it’s being wrung out, and my breath lodges in my throat. Tacked to the walls, covering every inch of blank space, are 8x10 glossy still shots from the porno Loche was in. Blown up big enough to see his face and other bits too. Full-frontal.

No.

Serena and Chad sit on top of their desks, smiling and admiring their handy work.

No, no, no.

I drop my backpack and immediately start to tear down the photos, crumpling them into one large ball. How could Serena be so cruel?

She comes up behind me. I smell her perfume and know it’s her before she even speaks. The room starts to close in on me. “What, you don’t like my art project?” she says over my shoulder.

I turn around to face her. It takes all the willpower inside of me not to punch her smug face.

“Why are you such a bitch?” I say, spitting the words at her. “This is someone’s life. He’s not some plaything for you and your minion to tear apart.”

“That’s precious,” Chad says, examining his nails as if he’s already bored with the show. “She’s standing by her man.”

Other students, getting only bits and pieces of the whole story, start to whisper about my involvement.

I’m like a tornado spinning through the room, reaching, grabbing at photos, pulling them into my vortex. My classmates watch me, doing nothing to help. How can they all be so callous toward such an amazing teacher, one who puts up with a lot of bullshit from a lot of ungrateful, trust-fund assholes?

I’d hoped to have all of the pictures down by the time Loche got back to the classroom, but no such luck. He walks in, holding his leather satchel that he always has with him full of our assignments. He shaved. It gives him a completely different look, one that is more GQ than mountain man, but I like both looks equally. At this point I think I’d find him beautiful even if he grew out some gratuitous biblical beard. I want to go up to him and touch his skin, but, of course, there are more pressing matters at hand.

His eyes skim the rows of photos I have yet to take down. He doesn’t look scared or upset at all—maybe somewhat surprised, but only a little.

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