#{tot}

Your eyes glaze over from lack of sleep as more words appear on the board, the professor adding yet another term definition to the long list already present.

You’re trying to listen—you really are—but your brain is not cooperating, too tired, too foggy, as distant thoughts of shitty luck plague your mind, all because of your asshole ex, Jonah.

God, men fucking suck.

It’s always been like this for you. You care, you love, you give, and what do you get in return? Cheating. And this time? It was with one of your friends! Because apparently he’s the spawn of Satan.

But you won't wallow in your sadness for too long, or at least, you'll try not to. It is why you're going out all weekend long, getting shitfaced and partying. Because nothing screams post breakup recovery like even more bad decisions.

You just have to prepare for the weekend and cover your bases.

You already have a list of friends you’ll go out with (only those who kicked that traitorous bitch, Amber, out of the friend group), the couple outfits you have planned, and the places you’ll likely hit up. Apparently there's a new trendy bar that opened in town, and you’d love a new scene to visit for a much needed change.

Now you only have one more thing to do to ensure a worry free weekend.

When the lesson comes to an end and the professor dismisses the class, you quickly gather your things and make your way to his desk, nervous about the sin you’re about to commit: lying.

“Um, Professor Kennedy?”

The man in question looks up from the papers he was stacking to meet your eyes with his blue ones, a curious expression painting his face.

“Yes?”

“I, uh, wanted to let you know I won't be able to make it to next class… I have a family event I have to go to, and my flight back here is on Monday afternoon. So, um, I won't be here to attend.”

You watch as he nods slowly, registering your words before he answers casually, “alright, just make sure to check class notes and the material I’ll send out to stay up to date.”

“Will do. Thank you, professor,” you smile politely.

He mirrors your smile, giving you a curt nod, and you can't help but be a bit mesmerized by just how attractive he is.

It’s a known fact around the school: professor Leon S. Kennedy is a certified stunner. And though you’re not exactly close to him or anywhere near being one of his favorite students, you have to admit, it’s nice having a teacher that's so easy on the eyes.

With your white lie having gone undetected, you walk out of the lecture hall feeling a little bit better than you did entering it, knowing you won't have to deal with coming to class hungover on Monday.

This is going to be a fun weekend, and nothing is stopping you from making the most out of it.

After two nights of partying and drinking, you find yourself riding yet another uber on Sunday with three tipsy girlfriends, as you all continue your bar hopping of the night.

It’s nearly midnight when you wobble on the sidewalk to enter that new bar you’ve been wanting to check out, proudly flashing your ID at the bouncer.

Once inside, you’re immediately submerged in heat, noise, and movement—bass thudding through your chest, voices overlapping into a blur, the air thick with the smell of perfume and alcohol.

After shortly debating on where to sit, your group picks an empty booth and you make your way to it, readjusting your short skirt for the umpteenth time, aware of strangers’ eyes.

And before you know it, you’re already halfway down a cocktail and on your way to get more for the table. Your friend Maya accompanies you on your very important quest, but before you reach the crowded bar top, she says she needs to pee. So you do what any decent friend does and go with her to stand in the long bathroom line.

After what feels like forever, it’s finally her turn to go in, but it's too crowded and stuffy for you to wait for her by the sinks, so you choose to go and wait back out.

You’ve always felt a bit claustrophobic in crowds.

You stand in the dark little hallway that leads to the lavatories, leaning one shoulder on the wall as you scroll on your phone amidst the current of people coming and going, tapping your foot to the rhythm of the echoing music.

You’re smiling at a funny TikTok when someone suddenly bumps into you, muttering a short ‘s’cuse me’ in a deep voice.

You barely lift your head to acknowledge them, but the sight of the absolute tree trunks they have for arms catches in your peripheral vision, prompting you to take a better look.

And… Fuck.

Right in front of you, standing in all his silver streaked, sandy haired glory, is none other than Professor Kennedy in a look you’d never seen or even imagined on him before. Black, long sleeved top, dark jeans, boots and a leather jacket folded over his forearm. He looks so fucking good you almost forget you’re supposed to hide and not ogle like an idiot.

But just as your drunken brain catches up with logic and you start to turn around, he notices you—of course—and after half a second of what looks like surprise, his face settles into a more amused expression.

“So, family event, huh?” he quirks an eyebrow.

You choke on your own breath as you try to think of a response, your heart feeling like it’ll thump out of your chest.

“I-It, uh, it was cancelled! Yeah, cancelled… That’s why I’m still in town,” you stammer out a half decent response.

He tilts his head slightly, looking even more amused. “So then, I'll be seeing you in class tomorrow morning. Correct?”

“Oh, of course! There’s no reason for me at all not to attend class!”

The professor nods slowly, icy eyes looking you up and down, and it’s only now that you notice he’s not wearing his glasses like usual.

“So I take it you’ve completed the assignment due?”

If you looked panicked before, you must look absolutely terrified now.

What fucking assignment?!

“R-right, the assignment… Um, yes, I’ve finished it and I’ll bring it tomorrow. No worries!” you smile nervously, your tipsiness not doing you any favors to hide your nerves.

He smiles in response, but it’s more akin to a mischievous smirk than anything else. He crosses his arms, the veins on his skin peaking past his rolled up sleeves, making you do a double take before forcing yourself to focus on his face.

“What’s it about?”

“What?”

“The assignment. What’s it about?”

Goddamn it.

You debate lying again, but making something up when he knows the right answer sounds incredibly stupid, even to your inhibited self.

“Okay, fine… I didn't do it,” you mutter under your breath, self consciously pulling down on the hem of your skirt.

The movement catches his eyes, and he doesn't make an effort to look away from your bare legs as he answers, “that’s not very responsible.” He pauses for a moment, as if pondering, and then meets your eyes again. “I didn't take you to be the ‘party all night and skip out on classes’ type.”

You can tell he’s feigning sternness, but you don't detect any true disappointment in his tone, which makes you wonder what he must be thinking.

“Well, I don't usually, but I’m going through a breakup and I don't know… I guess I needed a break.”

He’s a bit taken aback by you answering so honestly, but be chalks up your candor to tipsiness.

“Bad breakups can be nasty… But tell me, you’re not here alone at least, are you?” His voice is softer now, sweeter.

“I’m here with my girlfriends.”

“Good. Who’s driving?”

“Oh, we're taking Ubers home.”

“This late at night?”

“Um, yes…”

At that, Professor Kennedy leans in slightly, his voice dropping lower when he speaks.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you an extension on that assignment, but I have a condition.”

“Condition?” you ask cautiously, his cologne filling your nostrils now that he’s standing closer.

“I’ll drive you home.” He says casually, as if the entire situation isn't extremely weird in the first place.

You think his offer through: an extension on an assignment and a free ride by your model-looking teacher don't sound half as bad, as embarrassing as the situation may be.

He must've seen the acquiescence in your expression because he nods in satisfaction before you even say 'yes'.

“We leave now. It’s more than late enough. Call up your friends, will ya?”

“Oh, right, o-okay! Just give me a minute.”

“I’ll wait by the exit.”

“Thank you!”

You scurry away, mind reeling as you go back inside the bathroom to find Maya.

Five minutes later, you’ve gathered all your friends who are now teasing you for getting caught red handed by your professor. You all make your way to the rendezvous point and find him leaning against the wall, now wearing his jacket, chatting with a pretty, blonde haired woman.

You watch the interaction curiously as you approach, and it's clear from what you can tell that they're flirting because the woman keeps smiling playfully, clearly charmed by whatever he’s telling her.

It feels so bizarre witnessing your usually serious and professional teacher, now seducing a hot number while in a leather jacket. It makes you wonder what else you don't know about him.

When your group of four walk up to him expectantly, he smirks, pushing off the wall.

“Sorry, babysitting duties,” he tells the unnamed woman and she chuckles, giving him a sly wink before she stalks off.

He gestures with a nod towards the exit, and your friends giggle, way too drunk to pretend they're not finding this incredibly exciting and amusing. Maya even announces in the loudest whisper possible that he’s ‘the hottest DILF’ she’d ever seen.

You hope he didn't hear.

You know he most definitely did hear.

Outside, you walk through the parking lot as he leads the way to his car until he stops in front of a black Porsche. You’re not nearly car savvy enough to know what year or model it is, but you can guess it's a pricey car. Apparently teaching criminal justice makes you bank, what do you know?

Professor Kennedy unlocks the car and your friends usher you to sit in the front because they think it would be hilarious. Fantastic.

Once everyone is buckled in and the destination agreed upon, he gives one more glance your way, eyes dropping to your legs before he focuses on starting the engine.

The car ride is awkward as expected, or at least it is for you. Your three girlfriends are having a blast in the back, laughing drunkenly at anything and everything, while you stay silent, fidgeting with your fingers.

“So you all live on campus.” He speaks softly when the car stops at a red light, despite the streets being empty this late at night.

“Actually, they do. I live in a small shitty—sorry—crappy studio, but I’ll just crash with Maya at the dorms since you’re driving us there.”

You internally facepalm at swearing but he chuckles, seemingly finding it entertaining.

“I don't mind driving you home after I drop them off.”

“Oh, no, it's fine, really. We’ll just have a sleepover, we do it all the time.”

“How are you getting to class tomorrow if you can't go home? Because I hope you're not planning on wearing that during lecture,” he gestures to your outfit with a twitch of an eyebrow.

You immediately feel even more embarrassed and subconsciously close your legs tighter, tugging at your skirt once again.

“I’ll just borrow something from—”

“I’ll take you home.”

He cuts you off, and his tone is a mix of something confusing. His wording is to the point, his voice is stern, leaving no room for argument, but at the same time the slight curl of his lips that forms a small smile is paradoxical. He looks almost mocking.

“Okay… Thank you, professor,” you murmur quietly in response, submitting to his request.

“Don’t mention it."

Next chapter.