Chapter 4

KAREN

My eyes fluttered open slowly, and a satisfied sigh left my lips. The bed was incredibly soft, the sheets expensive and smooth against my skin.

But this wasn't my bed.

I sat up quickly, and the sharp pain between my thighs brought everything rushing back.

Matt. Jessica. The cookies scattered across his floor. The word deadweight echoing in my skull.

Then the club. The creep at the bar. And Rek.

Heat flooded my face as I remembered everything in vivid detail. His hands on my waist. His lips on mine. The way he'd looked at me like I was something precious instead of something broken.

The hotel room. His question, “Are you sure you want this?”, and my breathless answer.

Oh God.

I looked around the room, searching for the man who'd given me the best night of my life.

He wasn't anywhere.

I pulled myself out of bed, wincing at the soreness, and walked to the bathroom. Empty. I checked the sitting area of the suite. Nothing.

He was gone.

I walked back to the bedroom and checked the time on my phone. It's almost nine AM.

Six missed texts from Abby, each one progressively more panicked.

“How's it going?”

“Are you good?”

“Karen, I'm getting worried.”

“Text me back or I'm calling the police.”

“Seriously, I will file a missing persons report.”

“I WILL FIND YOU.”

Guilt twisted in my stomach. I typed back quickly, “I'm fine. On my way back. Sorry for not texting.”

Her response came immediately, “THANK GOD. Get your ass home.

I set my phone down and stared at the empty hotel room.

Maybe Rek had to go to work. But it was Saturday. People barely worked on Saturdays.

Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he woke up, looked at the stranger in his bed, and decided to disappear before things got awkward.

Maybe this was exactly what one-night stands were supposed to be. No strings. No complications. No messy morning-after conversations.

I got what I wanted, one carefree night to forget about Matt and my failures and everything that made me feel like deadweight.

Mission accomplished.

So why did waking up alone feel so hollow?

I shook my head and started gathering my clothes. The dress Abby had lent me was wrinkled beyond recognition. My shoes were on opposite sides of the room. I found my underwear draped over a lamp.

Heat crept up my neck as I remembered how they got there.

I dressed quickly, my hands shaking. What had I been thinking? I didn't do things like this. I didn't have one-night stands with strangers in hotel rooms that probably cost more per night than my monthly food budget.

But last night, I didn't want to be the girl who thought things through. I'd wanted to be reckless. Wanted to prove I wasn't the deadweight Matt said I was.

And now I was doing the walk of shame back to Abby's apartment, smelling like expensive cologne and regret.

Perfect.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, pausing when I caught my reflection in the mirror.

My hair was a disaster. My makeup was smudged. I looked exactly like someone who'd had a one-night stand.

But underneath that, I saw something else. Something that looked almost like satisfaction.

For one night, I'd felt wanted. Desired. Like I mattered.

Even if it was a lie. Even if Rek was already halfway across the city, forgetting my name.

It felt real.

I took a breath and left the hotel room.

The Uber ride back to Abby's felt like the longest twenty minutes of my life. I kept my head down, avoided eye contact with the driver, and prayed I didn't run into anyone I knew.

When we finally pulled up outside Abby's apartment, I practically ran to the door.

She opened it before I could knock, took one look at me, and raised an eyebrow.

"Walk of shame?"

"Good morning to you too," I answered with enough sass to match hers, walking past her into the apartment.

"You haven't answered my question," she said, closing the door behind me.

"You haven't acknowledged my greeting," I shot back. "Why are you cranky this morning?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Maybe because you had fun last night and I didn't."

I scoffed. "You're the one who didn't want to come."

"I know." She rolled her eyes. "Which is why you're going to tell me everything."

I sank down onto the couch. "What makes you think anything interesting happened?"

"Hello!" She waved her hands dramatically. "Your walk of shame says otherwise."

"Ugh, fine." I raised my hands in surrender.

Truth was, I wanted to tell her. Needed to tell someone what had happened before it started feeling like a dream.

"I had sex with someone," I said, heat creeping into my cheeks.

"Uh, duh. That much has been established." Abby sat beside me. "I need details. All of them."

So I told her everything. The drunk guy who grabbed me on the way to the bar. The creep who wouldn't take no for an answer.

And Rek, tall, gorgeous, mysterious Rek who'd saved me and then made me forget my own name.

"Oh wow," Abby said when I finished. "You wouldn't have had time for me even if I was there."

I smiled. "I was kind of busy."

"Yeah, keeping busy." She rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. "Do you regret it?"

I thought about Rek's hands, gentle and sure. About the way he'd looked at me like I mattered. About feeling, for just a few hours, like I wasn't deadweight.

"I don't know," I said honestly.

Abby squeezed my shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you're safe. And I'm glad you did something reckless for once." She stood.

"But now you need to shower, eat, and get ready for reality. Classes start in two weeks, and you have four science courses to conquer."

My stomach dropped. "Abby…."

"No. We're not doing this. You are not failing." She held out her hand. "But first, shower. You smell like regret and expensive cologne."

I laughed despite myself and took her hand.

Two weeks passed in a blur.

I settled into Abby's spare room, unpacked my things from the dorm, and tried not to think about storm-gray eyes and cedar-scented cologne.

I told myself it didn't matter. Rek was a stranger. A beautiful mistake. A moment of recklessness that was over now.

I had bigger things to worry about.

Like Calculus II.

Like passing my required science courses without Matt's help.

Like proving I wasn't deadweight.

The night at Mirage became a memory I tucked away, something that happened to a different version of me. A girl who was brave enough to be reckless, if only for one night.

Now I had to be the girl who survived her final year of college.

Even if I had no idea how I was going to do it.

KAREN

The morning of the first day of classes, I woke up with my stomach in knots.

I dressed carefully, jeans, a simple blouse, nothing that would draw attention. I packed my bag three times, making sure I had notebooks, pens, my calculator, everything I could possibly need.

Abby made me eat breakfast even though I felt sick.

"You've got this," she said as I headed for the door. "It's just Calculus. You survived Matt. You can survive this."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

The math building was across campus. Students streamed past me, laughing and excited for the new semester. I felt like I was walking to my execution.

Calculus II was held in a large lecture hall on the second floor.

I arrived early and chose a seat in the middle, not too close to the front where I'd be called on, not so far back that I couldn't see.

The large room starts filling up, the hustle and bustle of students opening their bags,

talking, and getting set up ringing in my ears as I slowly drink my coffee.

I rest my head back and close my eyes when I hear a very familiar

voice.

“Everyone, assignments are due this week.”

Fuck! It can’t be!

I jerk my head so quickly I’m pretty sure I’ve just given myself whiplash.

Rubbing my neck to ease the ache, I then rub my eyes, hoping like fuck I’m dreaming. I give myself a swift slap for good measure.

Nope. Not a dream.

All of a sudden my heart started beating too fast. Too fast. I quickly said a silent prayer.

Because standing front and center is none other than Rek. What the hell? My heart hammers in my chest, giving me that tight feeling as the realization hits me… hard—I slept with my professor.

I inhaled deeply as he set his things on the table and looked up. My heart skipped a beat and I felt a flood of heat flood my face.

It was him. The man I had a one night stand with two weeks ago.

Rek.

He turned to write on the board. Professor Derek Hunt. Calculus II.

So that's his real name. Not Rek, but Derek. Crap.

He walked up to the front of the room with an air of confidence. His presence commanding the attention of every student.

I couldn't believe it, his eyes swept over the students and I found myself shaking in my seat.

My mind raced back to the night. It was supposed to be fun, no string attached encounter, a wild moment of fun and recklessness before the start of the semester.

Now, that wild moment standing in front of me. About to teach the most difficult subject in the world.

"Good morning," he said, his voice steady and composed, just as I remembered it, but now laced with a familiarity that sent shivers down my spine.

"Welcome to Calculus II. I'm Professor Hunt, and I'll be filling in for Professor Nash while he's on sabbatical."

Sabbatical. The whole semester.

I'd chosen this class specifically because I'd heard Professor Nash was patient, that he didn't mind explaining things multiple times, that he actually cared if his students

understood.

And now he was gone, replaced by the man I'd slept with.

I was going to fail. There was no question about it.

Because standing front and center is none other than Rek. What the hell? My heart hammers in my chest, giving me that tight feeling as the realization hits me… hard—I slept with my professor.

“We have a new student joining us today, and I love to embarrass people,” he chuckle.

“Miss Craven, would you stand up and introduce yourself please.” Rek glances around the room searching for the newcomer’s face, my face.

I shrink down in my chair, cursing myself that I didn’t think to put my hood up to hide myself further.

His eyes finally settle on me, and if it wasn’t for the shit storm of a situation we now find ourselves in, I’d laugh at his expression because it can only be described as a cartoon with its eyes bugging out.

His friendly expression shuts down quickly, his features neutral as he clears his throat. “Miss Craven?” Caleb pauses, watching me before slowly running his tongue across his bottom lip.

I’m so entranced with the act that I

end up mirroring him and running my tongue across my bottom lip.

I look up from his mouth, finding his gaze still firmly on me and the world seems

to stop.

Suddenly breaking our eye contact, Rek moves to shuffle some papers around on his desk before saying, “See me after class for any missed assignments.”

With nothing else said, he shifts the conversation onto the upcoming semester.

I finally let out the breath I’d been holding, my ears ringing and my vision going blurry from the clusterfuck of a situation I’ve got myself into.

Rek is my new professor? My new professor is Rek?

Professor Hunt, Derek, I didn't even know what to call him anymore, began going through the syllabus.

His voice was calm, professional, nothing like the rough whisper I remembered from that night. But I couldn't focus on a single word he was saying.

All I could think about was his hands on my skin. His mouth on mine. The way he'd looked at me like I was something precious.

The way he'd made me forget my own name.

I raised my hand halfway, wanting to run my fingers through my hair in frustration, then stopped. I still had other classes today. I couldn't show up looking like a mess.

I rubbed my face instead, trying to think clearly.

If I stayed in this class, I would fail. Not just because of my struggles with math, but because I wouldn't be able to concentrate. How could I, when every time I looked at him, all I could think about was…..

Stop. Stop thinking about that.

I needed to drop this course. It was the only option. Even if it meant taking a harder Calculus class with a professor who wasn't as understanding, at least I'd be able to focus.

Better to fail because I didn't understand the material than to fail because I couldn't stop remembering what my professor looked like naked.

Derek's eyes found mine again as he continued lecturing, and this time he held my gaze for a beat too long.

I forced myself to look away, heat flooding my face.

I kept my eyes on my notebook for the rest of the class, pretending to take notes while my mind spiraled.

The lecture passed in a blur. I didn't absorb a single word.

I spend the rest of class unable to concentrate, the low timbre of his

voice going straight to my clit.

I’m lucky Derek doesn’t glance my way

again because I don’t think I’d be able to hide the emotions on my face.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t get the image of his head between my thighs

to budge.

I’m completely tense and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna have to change my underwear before my next class.

Which is really freaking annoying seeing as the man is completely untouchable now.

When the bell rings, I hastily put everything into my bag, but a pen drops to the floor before I can catch it.

Dropping down under my desk, I grab the runaway item and I shove it in my bag.

As I stand up, I notice that the auditorium has all but cleared out, leaving Caleb and I alone.

So much for getting out before he saw me.

“Miss Craven, a word please.”

KAREN

Slowly turning round to face him, I plaster a fake smile on. "Erm, sure."

Der—Professor Hunt strolls around his desk, perching on the edge, his arms moving to fold across his chest as he looks at me, his face stoic and unreadable.

My heart races, as my gaze lingers on him. It should be illegal for this man to look as good as he does.

He's wearing a white shirt with the sleeves down, hiding the tattoos that I kno—stop, Karen.

Do not check out your professor, even if he did give you the best orgasms of your life.

He continues staring at me, an eyebrow now raised as he catches me eyeing him up, and I suddenly wish I was a mind reader. I have no clue how this is going to go.

I bite my bottom lip, a nervous habit I've had since forever, and Derek's eyes darken, his gaze following my movements.

"Is your name even Karen?" he asks as he stands to his full height, anger radiating off him in waves and causing me to curl in on myself.

Confrontation isn't my thing, preferring to run away at all costs.

"Yes, I don't use a new name like the other girls," I reply, wringing my hands together, my head toward the floor unable to meet his gaze.

Derek goes quiet as he rubs his hand across his chin, like he's mulling over what I've said.

This is so awkward right now.

I start shuffling from one foot to the other, waiting for him to say something, but as soon as he does, I wish he'd kept his mouth shut.

"Hmm, you mean like the other bartenders," he muses. "Do you sleep with all of your clientele?" he asks, and my hackles rise.

Swinging my head toward him, I snap, "Excuse me? Where the hell do you get off talking to me like that?"

What the fuck? I know this is an awkward fucking situation to be in, but who the hell does he think he is?

My cheeks are bright red. I can feel the heat blazing from them, both from anger and embarrassment.

I mean, who sleeps with their professor? Okay, I didn't know he was my professor when I slept with him, but still.

He exhales roughly, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? It's not every day the best sex of my life happens to be one of my students," he explains, his tone softening.

"Still doesn't excuse being an asshole though," I snark, before blowing out a breath and relaxing my body slightly.

I know this isn't all his fault. The blame lies with me, as well.

He nods. "No, you're right. I'm just a bit thrown off. This could seriously damage both of us, my job, your scholarship, if this was to get out," he states.

Yeah, including my already fractured family reputation.

I sigh, rubbing a hand across my forehead. "I know," I whisper, the fight from earlier leaving me.

"I don't plan on telling anyone if that's what you're worried about. Plus, it's not like it's going to happen again." I look at him pointedly, and I swear his jaw clenches.

"Definitely not happening again," he agrees, and I'd believe him if it wasn't for the same desperate hunger in his eyes that he had that night.

I try to ignore the heated flush that spreads over my cheeks again. I swear that's all I do around this man.

This is wrong. On so many levels. I cannot lose my scholarship.

Everything depends on me passing and making a good life for myself. I refuse to end up like my mom.

I'm breathing heavily, my hands clammy as we both lock eyes, neither one looking away as I wait for him to say something.

The silence stretches between us, thick enough to choke on. I can hear the ticking of the clock on the wall behind him, each second dragging out longer than the last. His eyes haven't left mine, and I find myself wondering what he's thinking, whether he's replaying that night the same way I have been every time I close my eyes.

I shouldn't want to know. I shouldn't care.

But I do.

Finally he says, "So, we act like this never happened."

"Yes," I agree. Even though that couldn't be farther from the truth.

How do you forget a night that's seared into your brain? A night that you will relive over and over in your head for the rest of your life?

He clenches his jaw again, a decision being made behind his eyes as he announces, "You need to catch up on assignments. My TA, Brad, is busy, so you'll need to come in once a week for extra sessions with me."

My stomach drops. Once a week. Alone. With him.

"Is that really necessary?" I ask, my voice smaller than I intend it to be. "Couldn't I just email you my work instead?"

"No," he says, too quickly, and something flickers across his face before he catches himself and smooths it back into that unreadable mask. "The material this semester builds on itself. You fall behind now, you fail the class. I don't think either of us wants that."

I want to argue, to tell him this is a terrible idea, that being in a room alone with him once a week is like handing a match to someone standing in a room full of gasoline. But I don't have the energy to fight him on it, not after everything else today.

He goes to his desk and shuffles some papers around, before handing me a sheet of paper. "Here is this semester's reading material. Look at it, and we'll meet next week to discuss it."

Clearly I've been dismissed. Annoyed, I turn and leave, heading for my next class. I wish I could say it didn't hurt, because it does.

In no world will we ever be together. I just need to forget about Derek and move on with my life.

If only my heart would listen to my head.