Page 27 of Hot for Teacher
Chase frowned down at his phone, then tossed it face down on his bed. Him staring at it like an idiot for hours was probably how Spencer had known Chase was hoping for a text from … someone.
But Burke was either going to text or he wasn’t, and Chase staying glued to his phone wasn’t going to change the outcome. Chase needed a distraction.
He settled for organizing his closet.
Since Chase’s parents were fronting the majority of their rent, Noah and Spencer had insisted on giving Chase the biggest room, which meant he had the biggest closet. Sometimes his roommates’ stuff seemed to migrate into it. The thing was Chase had never seen either of them actually put anything in there. It was like the objects moved on their own in the middle of the night.
Like this Costco-sized box of condoms Chase had definitelynotpurchased himself.
He briefly considered pocketing some, but Burke had covered that side of things the night before. Tonight—if it happened at all—would probably be the same. And if it wasn’t …
What would it be like for him to fuck me bare?
All the blood in Chase’s body rushed to his dick at the thought, and he swore, tossing the box of condoms to the side.No thoughts of bareback alpha dick. You’re supposed to be distracting yourself, not ramping yourself up even more.
After he had categorized what was Spencer’s and what was Noah’s, there wasn’t much to go through, but Chase had stuffed a bunch of textbooks and notebooks from the last semester in the back corner, too lazy to do anything with them. He took them out now, separating them into piles. He’d toss the notebooks and take the textbooks to the used bookstore tomorrow. He was always inexplicably tempted to keep it all, as if for some reason he’d need his illegible notes from Ancient Roman History five years down the line.
Chase sorted through what he could reach, then crawled further into his closet. There was a smallish cardboard box hiding in the back, and he couldn’t remember what was in it.
It was his lacrosse uniform.
Chase rocked back on his heels, lid in hand, weirdly surprised to see it. He was pretty sure he’d been supposed to return it when he’d quit. Maybe he’d forgotten.
Chase lifted it out of the box, shaking out the thick fabric.
Lacrosse had been something he’d pretty much always played, thanks to a coach he’d had in elementary school, a man who’d been so warm and encouraging that Chase would have done anything to keep his attention. Including playing long after he was too old for the guy’s team.
Chase had kept with it, maybe for the sake of those memories,or maybe just for something to do—a reason to be out of his cold, empty house in his high school years.
And when he’d caught the eye of some scouts and had been offered a scholarship to college, he’d thought that maybe it would feel good, to do something on his own like that. To pay for school with his own skills. He’d even thought that maybe his parents would be proud.
But in the end, it hadn’t felt like anything at all. Chase had saved his parents money they didn’t need or care about, and the sport he’d always enjoyed as an escape became some sort of transaction instead.
Chase had ended it as mindlessly as he’d started. He’d been at an oppressively quiet Christmas Eve dinner with his parents last year, and he’d wantedsomething. Without having planned it at all, he’d told them he was quitting. That they’d need to pay his tuition after all.
And his father had just said, “We’ll let the accountant know,” and taken another bite of prime rib.
And that had been that. No anger. No questions. No nothing.
Chase’s coaches had been pissed, and his teammates had been disappointed, but it hadn’t been any life-destroying thing. Chase was closer with Noah and Spencer than any of the guys he’d played with, anyway. So there’d been no consequences at all really, other than a vague sense of dissatisfaction with himself.
And now, staring at his uniform, Chase couldn’t say how he felt. He missed his teammates every now and then. Missed the game some days more than others. But he wasn’t sad, exactly. And he wasn’t relieved either.
He should feelsomething, though, right? Something more than mild confusion.
Maybe in the end, he was just as empty as the people who raised him.
Chase shoved the box to the back of his closet just as his phone dinged.
It was a message from Burke.
Professor Alpha: I’m waiting.
There wassomething intimidating about standing on Burke’s doorstep.
The other night, Chase hadn’t had to think about it at all. He’d gone to the bar on a whim, and then he’d just … followed Burke’s lead. Chase had followed him into the car, followed himoutof the car, followed him into the house.
Even going to Burke’s classroom today hadn’t been a conscious decision. Chase had just … ended up there, drawn to it like a magnet.
