Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

Brant jolts then, as if he’s retching a bit in the back of his throat. But then he regains his calm, and shakes his head.

“It was that day,” he says in a low, trembling voice. “I broke up with Monica, and then we had a good-bye fuck, that’s all. That’s what you witnessed, but I swear, we were no longer a couple by then. It was only later that I met you.” Then he shoots a sharp look my way before narrowing his eyes once more. “Wait a minute … you planned all this didn’t you? You followed me to the Red Rooster, and chatted me up at the bar, knowing exactly who I was. It wasn’t a coincidence that we just happened to meet that night.”

I nod furiously, spitting nails from my fury.

“Yeah, I did, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I came home from the big city because my dad’s been a mess ever since you started seeing my mom. Rudy loves Monica, despite her cheating, and he’s had his heart broken over and over again because of your actions! So yeah, I set out a honey trap and you fell right into it, asshole!”

Brant jerks again, his face pale white.

“But I didn’t know your mom was married, Peyton. I swear it. She had a diamond ring, but she always wore it on her right hand. I assumed that it was a gift from her ex-husband.”

I stare at him.

“Right, because people wear diamonds from their ex-husbands all the time.”

Brant shakes his head slowly.

“Listen, I don’t know what divorced ladies do and don’t do because Monica was an aberration for me. I don’t usually date women in their forties, but yeah, your mom and I hooked up for a couple months, and it was fine. I didn’t probe into her business, and she didn’t probe into mine either. It was a physical relationship based on convenience more than anything, so I really didn’t know very much about her.”

I stare at him.

“Yes, but my dad was living at the house while you had sex with my mom. He could hear you fucking Monica through the walls!”

Brant looks sick as he shakes his head.

“I swear, I had no idea. Yes, I had sex with Monica in her bed. I had sex with her in the shower, in the kitchen, and probably in every room of your childhood home. But I had no idea that there was another person living there because there were no signs, Peyton. There were no male clothes in the closet, no toothbrush on the sink ledge, no nothing. I assumed that Monica was living in the house alone.”

I’m about to scream again, but then I realize that Brant could be telling the truth. After all, my dad’s become a recluse. Rudy lives in his home office now, only coming out late at night to grab food and to shower. Even so, my dad’s a very tidy man and might take his toothbrush back with him to his room. Plus, I wouldn’t put it past my mom to scrub every inch of Rudy from the house. She probably put away all of our family photos, and hid all of my dad’s things. After all, Rudy hasn’t come out in a long time now, so Monica likely just figured it was easiest to erase him from her life.

My heart curdles in my chest, and I literally feel sick. Vomit rises in my throat and I wonder if I’m going to faint because what if Brant is telling the truth? It’s possible that he never even suspected that Monica was married, if they really were only connecting physically. Plus, my dad was in hiding, so maybe there really was no trace of Rudy in the house. Maybe my plan was screwed from Day One, and now, everything’s fucked up because of it.

I stare at Brant, unable to think. The handsome man looks straight back at me, his gaze direct.

“I swear on my life, Peyton,” he rasps. “I did not know your mother was married. I would not have fucked Monica if I knew she was. She never said anything, and I never saw a trace of your dad around the house either. I didn’t know.”

It’s then that tears begin to course down my cheeks. It seems I’ve made a mess of things, and even worse, that all of my assumptions about this man, and about our particular situation, were wrong. Oh shit. What do I do now?

But Brant’s getting out of bed without another word. His bronzed back is turned, and within seconds, he’s dressed and striding to the door.

“I still don’t understand why you set out to seduce me,” he rasps in a harsh voice. “If anyone’s fucked up, it’s you, Peyton. You’re the one who’s got some serious thinking to do.”

Then, the door slams and I’m all alone in my hotel room. The silence is overwhelming as I lean back against the headboard, fat teardrops rolling down my cheeks. Have I completely messed things up? Even worse, am I the person who’s responsible for this shit show? Brant’s words ring again in my head, and it’s then that I collapse into wrenching sobs.

Peyton

I take a sip of hot tea, and swallow hard as tears brim in my eyes.

“I really fucked up this time, Rae,” I whisper. “It’s bad.”

My friend rubs a hand in circles on my back.

“It’s not that bad, Peyton. You went in with the best of intentions, it’s just that things didn’t turn out the way you thought they would. But I’m sure you’ll sort this out.”

I look up at my friend with teary eyes.Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Yeah, but how?” I ask in a broken whisper. “I mean, I accused Brant of cheating but my allegations were way off. I mean, he was cheating but he genuinely didn’t know about my dad because it never came up. Plus, my dad’s a hermit now, so I guess the door to the home office basically stayed closed the entire time.”

Peyton shoots me an empathetic look while rubbing my back again.

“It’s going to be fine, Pey. You’ll figure it out,” she repeats again. I let out a trembling sigh while staring into my mug of hot tea. We’re currently at my friend’s house, sitting on her twin bed like we used to do back in high school. Rae’s room still looks the same with the boy band posters on the walls and a girly white coverlet, not to mention the enormous dollhouse looming in one corner.

“I know, I know, I need to get rid of the dollhouse, but it was my grandfather who made it for me, so I don’t just want to throw it away,” Rae explains with a sigh. “I want to sell it or something, but it has sentimental value, so maybe not. I don’t know what I’m going to do with that behemoth.”

I nod, still staring morosely into my tea.

“No, it’s fine. Besides, it’s no big deal. It’s just a dollhouse so someone will take it off your hands, if that’s what you want. Oh my god, I’ve completely fucked up.”

Rae merely pats my shoulder.

“Cheer up, Peyton. Things will get better, I promise!”

I merely stare at my mug again as tears well in my eyes.

“But how? When?”

Rae sighs, but then shoots me a direct look.

“Well, do you love Brant?”

I snort.

“Brant and I have known each other all of ten days, Rae, and for most of that time, we’ve been in bed together with not a lot of talking going on. So how do I know if I like, much less love, him?”

Rae nods, idly twirling one long brown curl.

“That’s a good point. Well, would you want to see him again at least? Talk to him maybe? Spend time with him outside of the bedroom?”

My face crumples as a wave of sadness washes over me.

“I’d love to see him again,” I confess in a low whisper. “I mean, it’s only been two days since our fight, but I miss him so much already. I just don’t know if he’s open to seeing me because I accused him of all these terrible things and basically screamed at him until I was hoarse. So why would he put himself through that again?”

Rae nods thoughtfully.

“He wouldn’t want to, but it could be worth a try. If you care about him, then he probably cares about you too. I mean, give it some time, but I’d consider starting the conversation again and seeing where you both stand.”

I shake my head piteously.

“He hates my guts,” I whisper. “And for good reason too.”

Rae nods.

“Pey, we’ve all made mistakes in life. I’ve screwed up even worse than you, but what I’ve learned is that time will rub the hard edges off anything. But since you’re feeling so miserable, then you should take action. Talk to Brant yourself. Make the first move, even if it’s scary, and if he throws you out, then that’s what happens.”

I close my eyes as tears squeeze out from beneath my lids.

“I know,” I say in a choked voice. “I’m just so petrified that he hates my guts. What will I do then?”

Rae shakes her head, her expression sympathetic.

“I don’t know, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? I just hate seeing you hurting so badly right now, Pey. I genuinely think it would be better if you talked to Brant and at the very least, explained your side of the story.”

“I already did that,” I say in a broken whisper. “It’s just that I was screaming at him and calling him names while I explained myself.”

“Well, this time, do it in a normal tone,” my friend encourages. “You’ll be okay. You’ll be more than okay, trust me.”