Wet For Teacher V1

Foster returned his gaze to his menu, like I wasn’t hovering over his table completely pissed off. It was one thing to avoid a person, and another entirely to pretend they didn’t exist. I wasn’t pretending what we’d done hadn’t happened, I was just choosing it avoid it.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Foster looked up at me again. “I’m on a date, Miss Starling. Did you need something?”

A date? I muttered something incoherent, then stumbled back to my seat. Of course he was on a date. I sat back in the cushy, leather booth just as the appetizers arrived.

“So?” Rachael pressed. “What did he say?”

“He’s on a date,” I replied, confusion seeping from my tongue. It made sense on just about every level for my professor, a man whose only contact with me should have been in the classroom, to be on a date with a woman who wasn’t me. But inside, where my cells were being made and my blood was pumping, it felt wrong.

I felt wrong.

I picked up a fry and chewed it with enough force to make myself fe