Bad Teacher

That man … it’s him.

The man I had sex with last night is my teacher.

Chapter 3

Hailey

I go into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. God, I look like a fucking mess.

I turn on the faucet and stick my hands under the water. They’re shaking. I quickly splash my face with the cold water, hoping it’ll rinse away the shame.

It doesn’t.

It’s almost as if it’s visible on my face. Like you could literally walk up to me without knowing me and say, ‘Hey, you’re that girl who slept with her professor without knowing it, aren’t you?’

I’m now that girl.

That girl who not only spent her first fuck on a man she never met … but did it with her professor.

That girl who royally fucked up.

Fucking hell.

I slap myself in the face and murmur, “Get a hold of yourself, Hailey.”

I don’t know why, but it helps.

No one knows we did it. Lesley knows I fucked some random dude, but she doesn’t know it was him. But fuck, I hope none of this gets out because that would mean the end of my staying-low-at-school style.

Yes, I might be the red-haired girl, the nose-piercing girl, the vibrator-under-the-bed girl, the girl who loves ice cream and rock music, who likes glitter, unicorns, and rainbows and black all together, the girl who’s a mess and a mesh of all things both disgusting and fancy.

But I like who I am, and I like my privacy. So I need to make sure I keep my shit private.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I storm outside. I find a nice spot near a tree and take a packet of cigarettes from my pocket. I light one up and take a much-needed smoke break. Then I put my earbuds in and listen to “Kitty Hawk” by Ki: Theory.

I stay here for a good half an hour, enjoying a bottle of orange juice while reading a magazine. I know, corny, but I have to do something to take my mind off the whole thing, and I know going back to my dorm room won’t help.

I hear shuffling behind me in the sand, and when I turn my head, someone shouts in my face.

“Where the fuck did you go?” Lesley asks.

“Here,” I say, smiling like an idiot.

She smacks me on the head with an empty bottle of water. “Asshole. You left me in there. Alone.”

“You have plenty of friends.”

“So? You’re my best friend. You can’t just storm out. We were in the middle of class.”

I shrug. “I felt sick, so I went to the bathroom,” I lie.

Best friend.

What does that mean when I lie to her face?

I don’t even know anymore. We used to be so close, since way back when we met on the first day of college. If I knew then that I’d be lying to her face, I’d have punched myself. But I can’t exactly tell her the truth either. What I did with Thomas was a big fat no-no. I can’t tell anyone. Not even her.

I don’t want her to know. Yet. Maybe not ever. I don’t know.

This isn’t just something you tell someone while you’re casually sitting under a tree.

“And what the fuck is that?” She snatches the magazine from my hand. “Playboy?”

“Found it in the trash.”

“Trash? You’re outta your mind.” She throws it back at me.

“What? I just needed some distraction. It wasn’t covered in filth or anything … except on the inside.” I grin.

“You’re a lunatic,” she says, sitting down beside me.

“And proud of it.”

“So you ran out because you needed to puke? I don’t believe it. You never get sick on the first day. You’re never nervous.”

“Today, I was. I can’t help it. Can we just talk about something else?”

“As long as you promise me this isn’t because of your mom.”

“It isn’t.”

“Are you sure?” She places a hand on my shoulder. “Because you know you can tell me everything, right?”

“Yeah … No, it’s not my mom. I promise.”

“Okay. So you left class because you were sick. Were you too embarrassed to come back?”

I look at her, nodding. “Yeah.”

“I get it. Everyone was looking at you when you rushed out.”

I groan, palming my face. “Please don’t remind me.”

She laughs a bit. “It’s okay. No one will remember. They all only had eyes for the teacher. He’s freakishly hot.”

“Tell me about it …” I say, choking up a little at the thought of seeing him again.

“Just as long as you don’t leave me in there again. We’re best friends. Best friends stick together.” She rubs me and then gets up again. “Wanna get a Blizzard at Dairy Queen?”

“Fuck, yes,” I say, as I get up from the ground and brush the dirt off. “No fucking sickness can stop me from licking that ice cream.”

She grins. “Nothing stops you from licking ice cream. I’ve seen you lick it off some guy’s abs at a party. You’d do pretty much anything for it.”