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The Fracture
publish date:
2026-05-21 20:04:23
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ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MY PROFESSOR Jjkkk
Omoo!!!!!!!! let me tell you how this affiliate marketing works because it's not something you will just jump in to, for you to be successful in it you will need to be very careful and strategic, because as it stands now you are 75% ready to get started but what you lack is the right knowledge.....Do you get?The Lounge — Andrew's POVThe antique clock above the fireplace ticked loud enough that I could hear it the moment I stepped inside.6:00 PM exactly.I had stood outside the door for nearly two minutes — hand on the brass handle, pulse hammering, telling myself I was being paranoid. That whoever sent those texts was a small, frightened person doing small, frightened things. That I could walk in there, stare them down, and walk back out unchanged.I almost believed it.The private student lounge looked nothing like the rest of Blackwood. The school's corridors were polished in that performative way — elegant marble and framed portraits pretending at history — but this room was so
ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MY PROFESSOR The Fracture
Andrews POVI saw Mark's face change the moment he looked past me.One second his eyes were on mine — searching, concerned, hands still warm on my shoulders. The next, his gaze had shifted to the figure stepping out of the lounge behind me, and something in his expression went tight and dark and immediately wrong.I didn't have to turn around to know Daniel had followed me out.Of course he had. Why wouldn't he? He'd already won tonight. He might as well watch."What," Mark said, and his voice had gone cold in a way I'd never heard from him before — not even in class when he was genuinely angry, "is he doing with you?"I flinched. Not from the question. From the tone. From the particular flavor of pain underneath it that I wasn't supposed to be able to hear and couldn't stop myself from hearing anyway.Behind me, Daniel's voice arrived smooth and unhurried. "Relax, Professor Shawn. We were just talking."Mark's eyes cut toward him like a blade."I wasn't speaking to you."I felt the t
ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MY PROFESSOR The puppet masters trap
The Lounge — Andrew's POVThe antique clock above the fireplace ticked loud enough that I could hear it the moment I stepped inside.6:00 PM exactly.I had stood outside the door for nearly two minutes — hand on the brass handle, pulse hammering, telling myself I was being paranoid. That whoever sent those texts was a small, frightened person doing small, frightened things. That I could walk in there, stare them down, and walk back out unchanged.I almost believed it.The private student lounge looked nothing like the rest of Blackwood. The school's corridors were polished in that performative way — elegant marble and framed portraits pretending at history — but this room was something else entirely. Dark oak panels. Deep leather couches the color of dried blood. Low golden light pooling in the crystal glasses and expensive liquor bottles locked behind glass like trophies no one was meant to touch.It smelled like old money and quiet threats.I hated it the moment the door clicked shu
ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MY PROFESSOR The silent separation
Andrew's POVI didn't sleep. Not even for a minute.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the classroom door rattling violently under the janitor's hand — heard the metallic shake of the knob, felt Mark's breath against my neck in the suffocating darkness behind the storage cabinet.One more second.That was all it would've taken. One more second, and everything would've been destroyed. My scholarship. My future. Mark's career. Blackwood would've swallowed us whole.I stared at the ceiling of my dorm room as weak morning light bled through the blinds. My phone sat on the pillow beside me like a loaded weapon.The anonymous text was still there.I know what you did with Professor Vale.The words burned into my skull. I'd reread the message at least fifty times during the night, hoping I'd suddenly realize it was some dumb prank.But it wasn't.Whoever sent it knew. And worse — they had proof.My stomach twisted violently. I sat up slowly, dragging trembling hands over my face. My chest fe
ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MY PROFESSOR The Return
Andrews POV Rain tapped softly against the windows when I woke up. For a second, I forgot where I was. The mattress beneath me was too soft. The air smelled expensive—cedarwood, cologne, and something darker underneath it. A city glow filtered through half-open blinds, casting pale gray light across an apartment that looked nothing like anywhere I’d ever belonged. Then memory hit me all at once. The party. The whiskey. The stranger with sharp eyes and a low voice. His hands against my waist. The way he looked at me like he actually saw me. Shit. I sat up too quickly, immediately regretting it when my head started pounding. My hoodie was crumpled on the floor beside the bed. So were my jeans. I grabbed them fast, trying not to look toward the other side of the bed. But I did anyway. He was still asleep. One arm stretched across the sheets. Dark hair messy against the pillow. In sleep, he looked younger somehow. Less controlled. Less dangerous. The memories became harder
ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MY PROFESSOR The Red Pen
Andrews POV By the third day at Blackwood High, I had mastered the art of disappearing. Hood up. Earphones in. Eyes down. I took longer routes between classes just to avoid passing Mark's classroom, which was stupid considering he was literally my teacher. But every time I saw him, my chest reacted before my brain could catch up. And I hated that more than anything. The rain never stopped either. Gray clouds hung permanently over town, turning school windows dull and fogged by noon. The hallways smelled like wet jackets and old textbooks. Everyone seemed louder here — laughing too hard, staring too long. I started eating lunch in the library. Not because I liked reading. Because nobody bothered you there. I sat in my usual corner near the back windows with stale vending machine coffee, trying not to think about how fast everything had gotten complicated. But thoughts about Mark kept slipping in anyway. His voice. That look on his face when he first saw me sitting in his cl
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