I woke up early Saturday morning to prepare for an all-day department conference. I kissed Jace goodbye and told him to stay as long as he wanted, and he smiled and rolled onto his side, spooning my pillow and quickly falling back asleep.
The image of his muscular body in my bed stayed with me all day through the conference. I’d forgotten just howcomfortingit was having a man in my life.
But I don’t just have one. I have two, now.
It was mystifying that both Jace and Brock were okay with the situation. Like a dream come true. But as the conference ended and Sunday rolled around, I began to second guess the entire situation.
Sure, both of them reiterated their comfort on Friday in the heat of the moment. But as time went on, would they decide they didn’t want to share me? Would they resent the fact that I was sleeping with the other man?
I knew I was spiraling. Neither man had texted me this weekend, which was likely because of my conference and because they had their own lives to worry about. But I wasa worrier at heart, and my mind was good at imagining bad scenarios.
Monday morning brought thunderstorms to Smokey Mountain State University. I shook out my umbrella, then shed my raincoat in my office before heading to my first class. The seats were half full when I walked inside, and my eyes were immediately pulled to an area in the middle.
There they were: Jace and Brock. Sitting next to each other, chatting about something. They both glanced down when they saw me, tiny little smiles touching their lips before they returned to whatever they were discussing.
What a strange thing to see two of my lovers sitting together, chatting like buddies! I would’ve given anything in the world to know what they were talking about.
I set up my laptop and tried to ignore them, but my eyes drifted in their direction constantly. Brock leaned over and whispered something that made Jace laugh. Brock leaned back in his chair and began typing on his laptop.
Maybe theywouldbe cool with all of this.
With my worries assuaged, I was able to focus on my lecture that day. I handed back everyone’s papers from the previous week, discussed them a little, and then jumped into the next chapter review. When class was over, Jace and Brock both smiled at me on their way out of the room.
The tingle in my stomach made me feel like a teenager again.
Thanks to the papers being handed back, I had a lot of visitors to my office hours that day. One student, a boy named Dean, was unhappy with his D+ grade. But I barely recognized him because he had only come to one class all semester, so it was easy to counter his argument that the assignment was confusing.
After two other students, Brock walked into my office.
“Mr. Radley,” I said, trying to set the tone immediately.
“Professor Carrington,” he said.
“Close the door, please.”
He did as he was instructed, then dropped his backpack next to the guest chair and sat down.
I immediately began to formulate an argument in my head about boundaries, the same conversation I’d had with Jace when we started having sex. But to my surprise, Brock beat me to it.
“I wanted to tell you that I understand the risk for you in all of this,” he began. “And that the risk is greater for you than it is for me.”
“Very much so,” I said carefully.
He gestured with his hand. “I think it’s best if we have some basic ground rules so that there’s no confusion. For example, the school campus should be off-limits. When we’re here, we’re strictly professor and student. In addition to that, being seen in public off campus also poses some risk. Light flirting at the bar on Fridays is fine, I think, but beyond that: we shouldn’t do anything risqué unless we’re in private. Thoughts?”
“I agree with everything you’ve said.” I smiled. “I was going to set those exact boundaries, actually. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“Me too.” His eyes narrowed. “Although it’s not easy to respect those boundaries while we’re in here together. With the door closed.”
For a moment, I imagined all the filthy things we could do right now. But I quickly dispelled those fantasies.
“That isextremely tempting,” I agreed, “but I’m a popular professor today, thanks to the papers I graded over the weekend.”
“Speaking of that, I did come here for an academic reason…” He opened his backpack and pulled out a stapled stack of papers. “Can we discuss my grade?”
“I thought you’d be pleased with an eighty-nine,” I said.
“Overall, yes,” he said, leaning forward to show me the second page. “But I’ve got a clarification question on this part here.” He tapped the page.
