Dirty Professor (12 page)

I've been stalked before, but I've never had anybody make it onto my property. "Who's there?" I call. In my arms, Addison's body goes rigid.

Nothing.

I'm not armed, but I start down my driveway for a better view. I see someone moving through the trees towards the street.

"Who is that?" I call.

The person nips through the trees and disappears. I take off after the figure, but by the time I get across my gargantuan-sized yard, I don't see or hear any sign of anyone.

Fuck.

Addison has a question mark in her eyes. I have a very bad feeling about this.

**

The call comes Monday morning. I rolled out of bed early to go for a run while the rain's stopped, and I walk back into my house and grab my ringing cell phone off the kitchen island.

"Chase." Dr. Wilkes’s voice is brusque. "I need you to come to my office."

"I'll be at my office hours later this morning."

"I need you to come sooner than that. It's an urgent matter."

"Okay," I say, blowing air out my lips. My stomach goes numb. "I can be there in an hour."

"That's fine."
Click.

My drive to campus stretches on forever. I get stuck at red light after red light, and my nerves are jumping. I haven't felt this anxious since my last book review, when I was genuinely convinced I'd get slammed and Bryce Bowker would get annihilated like he deserves to be. But that worked out okay, I got another stellar review, and number fourteen ended up shooting straight to the top spot on the bestseller lists.

I have a feeling this meeting isn't going to go as well as that did.

When I walk into Dr. Wilkes’s office, I know what this is about. I knew before she called. "Sit," she commands.

I sit. She doesn't say anything right away, just looks sad. I take in her office. It's the space of someone who loves literature more than anything else on the planet, except for pedagogy, with old classic hardbacks everywhere and rich wood shelves instead of the usual standard office shelving. I remember liking her office when I first came in here to sign the paperwork for this job. Miranda Wilkes, PhD, EdD, trains her brown eyes on my face, and when she finally speaks, she sounds like she's been truly betrayed. "I don't know if you know what this is about, Chase, but it deeply pains me to have to do this."

I close my eyes. "Just give it to me."

I expect her to say it-- to give it to me verbally, and thrash me good. I'm not expecting her to actually give me something, but I sense something sliding across the desk. I open my eyes and look down.

It's a photo of me and Addison. We're embracing next to her car.

"I just need you to confirm." Dr. Wilkes sounds like she might cry. "Is that you?"

I nod. "Yes."

"And is that Addison Simmons?"

"Yes." My voice sounds hoarse.

"Addison Simmons is one of your writing students, in English 495?"

"Yes."

"And do you recognize this location?"

"That's my house. My rental house."

"I see."

"Someone took this last night. I heard them creeping around my yard."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Wilkes says. "But as invasive as that is, due to this evidence, I have to relieve you of your position immediately. I'll need you to clean out your office."

My voice is someone else's entirely. "All right."

"Chase?"

"Yes?"

"I did enjoy having you. I truly did."

I want to die.

Not for myself.

But for Addison.

A
DDISON

He texts me.

He fucking texts me to tell me what happened.

I don't know how much longer he's going to be in town, but he texted me that he's still here. He says he needs to be alone for a bit, that I should stay away from him, that it will only make things worse.

But screw that.

I’m going over there.

I’m grabbing my keys when there’s a long, bold knock on my door.

My spine goes rigid.

Oh, God. I recognize that knock.

I grew up dreading that knock.

For a second I consider just not answering, pretending I'm not here. But what good will that do?

The knock sounds again. I hated loathing that knock, every time I'd get sent to my room for some shitty infraction or another, and be stuck there waiting for the talking-to.

Literally crossing my heart, I get up and crack the door open.

I can't look at my dad. So look at my mom instead, and see the tears in her eyes, and think maybe I should have just looked at my dad.

"Addie." My mom forces down a sob. "Oh, Addie, how could this happen?"

“How did you find out?” I asked, my voice devoid of emotion.

“The school called us. They’re worried about a lawsuit, and they damn well should be. Let us in." My dad's voice is gruff. "Now, please."

I thank God that Kensie's in class right now. She'd leave us alone, surely, but I wouldn't wish her in my dad's path for a split second.

"We're going to sue." My dad delivers this announcement with the sternness of a true CEO. "This bastard is going to wish he'd found someone else's daughter to manipulate."

"He didn't manipulate me."

My mom sniffles as my dad barges ahead. "Child molestation."

"I'm not a child," I point out. "I'm past the legal age of consent by three years and then some."

"Sexual harassment, then." Dad's eyes are ablaze with green fire. "He's going down."

"He didn't
harass
me, Dad."

"Sexual misconduct."

"Dad, no. Just no."

“Addison, this is serious. Beyond serious. Do you realize what this man has caused?"

"Are you all right?" My mom blows her nose and grips my arm. "Are you?"

"I'm fine."

"How the hell did he con you into this? Did he force you?" Dad, pacing around our tiny room, looks like he's about to have a conniption. "Did he?"

"No!”

"I don't believe it." Mom wipes her eyes. "I can't."

"Well, believe it," I tell her. "I was a willing partner in this. Okay?"

Dad is about to implode. "This is nothing I would ever have expected from you, Addison."

"Addie," my mom hiccups. "Addie, how could you?"

"Stop calling me that," I mutter. "Please. I'm not some little kid."

Dad stops mid-pace. "You're still very much a kid, Addison. Make no mistake about it. And this asshole is a predator. And he's going to pay for it."

"No!" I try to force back my own tears, but the combination of seeing my mom crying and the thought of Chase being slammed in court are too much, and a tear slips out of my eye. I brush it away like it's toxic. "Dad, no. Please. He doesn't deserve that. I'm an adult, and I make my own choices."

"The hell you do."

I allow myself to look at my dad's face for more than a nanosecond. The thing is, he's right. I'm an adult, sure, but have I been making my own decisions? Other than being with Chase on the sly? "I should," I say. "I should be making my own choices."

“Well, apparently not, since you chose wrong, in this case."

Case.
Case
is another word I hear a lot of in business school. And, because my dad is my dad, I heard it constantly growing up, anytime he felt like illustrating some business point to my sister and me. "Maybe I did. But then again, maybe I didn't."

"What is
that
supposed to mean?"

"Dad, listen. It wasn't the ideal relationship setup, no. But I don't regret it."

My parents gape at me like I've sprouted another head. "You're in shock," Mom announces softly. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

"You mean to tell us you wanted this... this
affair?"

"Yes." I wipe away another tear but hold my ground. "I wanted it, and I still want it. I love him."

"What?!" my mother gasps.

"I said I love him." My voice takes on an edge I've never used with my parents before. "I'm in love. With Chase."

My mom sobs again and buries her face in her hands.

"You've upset your mother," Dad says, "and you're talking complete and utter nonsense. Has he drugged you? Is that what this is?"

"Jesus Christ!" I yell. "No! I love Chase, and there's nothing you can say that will make me stop. I didn't plan it, but it happened. And I want to be with him."

"You can't." Mom removes her hands from her face. "Addie, you can't. Even if you do love him. He's going back to Los Angeles, or wherever he lives. And you go to school here."

"And then you'll be back in Portland." My dad sounds so fucking sure of himself. "At least for the summer after you graduate, and then wherever we decide to pursue your MBA."

"We," I repeat.
"We
won't be deciding anything.
I
will."

"What happened to you?" Dad is staring at me like he doesn't recognize me. Which he doesn't.

And mom sounds like she's underwater. Which she is. "Something happened. You're not yourself."

"What happened is, I met Chase."

"We know that much."

"So does the university," my dad adds. "So does the local news station, probably. I'm going to have to make some calls and see if we can keep this quiet."

I bite my lip. I do want my dad to try to keep this quiet, for Chase's sake. But I don't want to owe him that. Am I forever doomed to be stuck in this paradox of needing to be independent, but needing my fucking parents at the same time? "I thought you wanted to take him to court. That wouldn't be keeping anything quiet. Which is it?"

Dad grumbles something about putting family first. "I'd love to destroy the bastard, don't get me wrong."

I don't. In fact, I really hope he isn't thinking about hiring a hitman. Dad could afford it. I don't think he knows anyone who'd be remotely connected with that sort of shit, but money talks, and it could be as simple as one night in a shitty neighborhood talking to someone who could use a big payday. Do I honestly think my dad would do that? No. But I've never seen him this angry.

"I'm worried about school." Mom composes herself and goes on. "If this gets out, or even if it doesn't. How is this going to affect her studying, Jack? Is she even going to be able to concentrate?"

"You can ask me directly," I inform her. "You guys still talk about me like I'm not in the room."

"We can't afford for you to fail," Mom says. "Maybe we should have you drop your classes and wait a semester."

"Ordinarily, I'd be adamently against that." My dad looks at my mom in concession. "But you're right. If she fails even one course, due to this... emotional BS, then that would kill her GPA."

"So now you're worried about my GPA," I say. "I thought you were worried about my life."

"We are," Mom says, at the same time Dad says "This
is
your life."

"Really?"

"This is your future we're talking about. You've set off a chain reaction, Addison."

"
He
has." Mom's sniffle is defiant.

"He has," Dad agrees. He turns to me. "And because you've let yourself go along with it, you have. And now there are consequences. And consequences mean that it might be best for you to hold off on business school for a semester."

"Get some counseling," Mom adds. "We'll get her some counseling. I'll find her the best therapist in Portland."

"He
needs counseling," Dad mutters. "But we're still within the drop period. You'll get Ws for withdrawal, but a W is better than an F."

"You're right," I say, crossing my arms. "I do think maybe I should hold off on business school."

"Okay, done. We can get you packed and out of here by tonight."

I shake my head. "No. I mean, I think I want to hold off on business school permanently."

"She's talking crazy again," Mom wails.

"I mean it." I force myself to look at my dad, whose mouth has fallen open. "I don't want to major in business."

He finds his voice. "What in God's name?"

"I'm serious, Dad. I've been thinking about it for awhile now. I was thinking about it before I even applied to this school, but I didn't want to admit it."

"Didn't want to admit that you don't want what? To be successful?"

"Why is business the only route to success?" I demand.

"Well, unless you stopped fainting at the sight of blood, med school is out. You have zero interest in law--"

"I have zero interest in
business."

"Oh, Jack." My mom starts crying again. "She doesn't know what she's saying."

"I do know what I'm saying, Mom. I just don't want a business career."

"Business encompasses so many things, Addie. Something in that realm would be good for you,” my mom insists.

"No, it really wouldn't,” I say.

"How do you know?" she asks.

"Because I hate it!" I haven't shed more than a couple of tiny tears until now, but I can't stave them off now. "I hate my classes, and I hate the thought of that being my future."

"Where did this come from?" Dad looks completely lost. "We've talked for so long about this. You were excited about it."

I love Chase. I hate business. I hate that I keep making my mom cry. I hate that I lied to Kensie, and I hate that I'm the reason Chase lost his job. But I hate the thought of keeping what I really want to do a secret any longer. "I was excited that I pleased you guys," I say. I take a tissue from my mom and scrub my eyes. "But I was never excited to become a business major. That's why I didn't enroll here right out of high school."

"You had to establish a better GPA in some college work first," Mom reminds me.

"Maybe I didn't have the highest GPA in high school because I knew I didn't want to come to business school."

Dad blinks. "Is that true?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "At the time, I was just content to get Bs, but maybe subconsciously... maybe I was dreading something? I wanted to make you guys happy. But this isn't making me happy."

I close my eyes, remembering high school. I remember my parents' frustration that I didn't have a 4.0, even though I was doing way better than, say, Kensie. Or my sister, who gave up on college altogether. I remember my mom asking me about getting a tutor, and my dad rolling his eyes and telling me that Portland State would be a good place to get used to college, and
then
I'd be mature enough for business school.