“Oh, stop it.” Erin smacks him across the shoulder. “Don’t be one of those people fanning the flames of rumors.”
“Hey, sometimes there’s truth in rumors,” he argues.
As far as anyone knows, it’s true that the last person Dylan was seen with was Professor Kendall. He didn’t have any family around here, so no one knows what happened to him. Rumors flew around the entire town like they tend to do. Professor Kendall was on a tenure track around that time, and maybe Dylan was trying to sabotage him. Dylan was applying for a research fellowship, and maybe Professor Kendall was actually the one doing the sabotaging.
Or maybe they were in a relationship, and it ended badly.Reallybadly.
That particular theory stuck with me for some reason.
Our school only bans relationships between students and faculty if the latter holds a position of power over the student. In other words, if that student was enrolled in their class. Dylan wasn’t in Professor Kendall’s class—at least not at the time of his disappearance—but if theywerein a relationship, I don’t blame them for having kept it quiet. Not after the past few weeks I’ve had.
I thought maybe we were moving forward with the rest of the world, but it seems we’re still stuck in the past.
I’m sure there’s no truth to that last rumor anyway, considering my professor turned on me the second I was outed. If itwastrue, he’d know from experience how I was feeling about it all and maybe be at least a little more fucking sympathetic.
“Either way, Bodie’s probably not wrong.” I sigh and pick up my computer, settling it back on my lap. “The fucker has it out for me, and I’ll bet it’s because he’s got one of those homophobic sticks up his ass that tend to be pretty popular around here.”
Erin audibly gags, and Bodie laughs.
I shrug. “I shouldn’t be surprised he’s just like everyone else in this stupid town.”
“Excuse you.” Erin glares at me. “You can exclude some of us from that.”
“That should’ve been implied,” I tell her with an appreciative smile.
“Yeah, and there are more than just us who have your back,” Bodie says as he opens the pizza box and takes out a slice. His mouth practically waters as he’s momentarily distracted by the cheese pull. “Don’t forget my cousin thinks you’re hot. I told him I’d give him your number as soon as you gave me the all clear.”
It’s not the first time Bodie’s offered to set me up with his cousin, but I’m still not interested.
See? This is menotfalling into bed with the first man who shows interest.
“Sorry, Bode. I don’t think he’s my type.”
“Whatisyour type?” Erin asks with a mischievous wag of her brows.
I shrug. “No idea.”
Except that’s kind of a lie.
The image of an older man flashes in my mind. Dark brown hair, short beard. A suit vest that hugs his slender frame perfectly. Smart and passionate. Conversations that stir a similar passion inside me. Intense, beautiful hazel eyes.
A heat rises to my cheeks, but, thankfully, Erin’s attention has returned to scrolling through movies on my TV. Now that Bodie’s got a mouthful of pizza, he doesn’t complain as she chooses one of her favorite horror movies. The scent of melted cheese and garlic convinces me to grab a slice before getting back to work on this paper.
Right. The paper I was assigned because a certain professor hates me after learning I’m bisexual. If that’s not reason enough to forget my stupid crush, I really don’t know what is.
As I get back to work, I tell myself I’m not obsessed. That I just want to prove him wrong. It’s no longer attraction; it’s defiance. But the lie feels thinner every time I repeat it.
When the credits start rolling, the room’s gone quiet except for the creepy closing theme music and the faint creak of old pipes. Erin’s already half asleep, her head tipped against Bodie’s shoulder, and he’s too wrapped up in his phone to notice that I’ve barely looked at the TV for the past half hour.
I close the laptop with a soft click. The essay isn’t done, but I’ve hit the point where every sentence feels like pulling teeth.
It’s not the work that’s hard.
It’s what it represents.
Every word I write feels like some twisted form of obedience to a man who seems to take pleasure in tearing me down.
I should hate him.
