Page 8 of The Naughty Professor
I flushed scarlet.“I—I didn’t mean—”
She cut me off with a wave.“Please.I’ve had a crush on that man since the day he walked onto campus eleven years ago.Tall, brooding, those eyes…” She fanned herself with a napkin.“When he divorced Fred for cheating on him, I thought—‘Lorna, this is your moment.’”
“Fred?”I squeaked.
“His husband.A real bore, and a cheat at that.After the split, Thorne started showing up at Badlands.”
“Badlands?”
“The gay dance bar downtown.Full of shirtless boys and cheap cocktails.I saw him there one night a couple of years ago, looking oh so tragic but still divine.”
My eyes widened.“You… go to Badlands?”
“Of course!I was about to paint my friend Dirt Woman’s face when I saw Thorne leaving with a god.Muscles on muscles.Looked like he could bench-press a truck.”
“Dirt Woman?What?I mean, who is… ”
Lorna burst into laughter, her bracelets jingling.“Oh, honey, Dirt Woman was a drag queen legend, may she rest in peace.Famous back in the day.She was Richmond’s version of Divine.”Lorna’s smile turned wistful.“I see why Joan, you know, Dr.Stanwyk, acts so possessive.But she’s delusional if she thinks she’s getting anywhere with Thorne.”
“Divine?”I asked.
“You know, John Water’s movies?Hair Spray, Polyester?”Lorna patted my arm and muttered, “Bless your heart.”
A strange warmth filled me.I’d never been included in faculty gossip.Usually they left me out, like an uninvited cousin.
Before I could stop myself, I muttered, “I wish Thorne were into me.”
Lorna cackled, slapping my arm with her ringed hand.“Welcome to the Dr.Thorne Carr Fan Club!”
I giggled.Actually giggled.A sound I wasn’t sure I’d made since childhood.
Then I glanced at my reflection in the window.My glasses weren’t exactly sexy, plus I had scrawny shoulders, and my lab coat was dusted in black soot from the explosion.Why the hell hadn’t I changed clothes before the service?Then I imagined myself broad-shouldered and muscled, like the guy Lorna had described.
What would Thorne think of me… if I had muscles too?
ChapterThree
Felix
Ipulled into my grandmother’s driveway in Lakeside, the tires of my battered Volkswagen crunching over gravel that had probably been there since Reagan’s first term.The little bungalow looked the same as always—white siding in need of a fresh coat of paint, flowerbeds choked with weeds, and the sagging porch where I’d once sat with Popsicles dripping down my arm while Grandma told me stories about my parents.
The grass was long again.Knee-high in some spots.Great.I could already feel my sinuses closing up just looking at it.
“Hell,” I muttered, flipping open the glove-box.My trusty inhaler rolled out between some old fast-food napkins and the owner’s manual.I gave it a quick shake and took a puff, the chemical tang hitting the back of my throat.At least I wouldn’t keel over before I finished mowing the yard.
The house’s front door creaked on its hinges, but I didn’t even bother heading that way.Grandma would already know I was here—she always knew—but the lawn came first.I cut across the yard and went straight to the shed out back.
Inside, it smelled like motor oil and mildew.My dress shoes came off, and I traded them for the ancient pair of work boots waiting by the wall, their laces stiff with dried mud.I tugged on a pair of thick gloves and clipped the straps of my dust mask over my face.
The mower was leaning in the corner, a red relic from the last century.I heaved it out into the yard, muttering encouragement like it was a stubborn old dog.When I yanked the cord, the thing coughed out a cloud of smoke and roared to life, loud enough to rattle my teeth.
I started with the backyard, circling around the rusted swing set where I’d once launched myself into the air, convinced I could fly.The chains creaked when the mower rattled past, like they still remembered me.I pressed on, sweat prickling under my shirt.
By the time I reached the pond—a green, algae-choked mess that used to house my mother’s goldfish—the mower sputtered and died.Out of gas.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
“Felix!”Grandma’s voice rang from the back porch, sharp and clear despite her years.“You need to go to the gas station and get more gas!”She was grinning at me, a casserole dish balanced on one hand like a trophy.
