“Your date is here.” My roommate says. I check my cherry lip-gloss in the mirror. This is our first real date in weeks. Hugh got caught up in staff meeting and bogged down with lesson planning and homework, but we’ve managed to sneak in “afternoon tutoring” in his office several times.

“What’s he wearing?” I call out from the bathroom. I peek around the corner just in time to see my roommate Hazel open the door and let Hugh in. He’s dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a button down shirt. My heart skips a beat.

Hazel turns to me and mouths the words, “Wow, what a hottie.”

I take a last look in the mirror before I show myself. My hair is loose around my shoulders, and I’m wearing a dress my sister gave me. The heels are borrowed from my roommate. Hugh said to dress nice. I hope I don’t disappoint.

My roommate disappears into her room, and Hugh and I are left to gawk at each other in the entryway.

“You look beautiful,” he says in a low hungry growl. “I almost want to skip dinner and move on to dessert.”

When he licks his lips, I’m totally game for an alternate plan.

We get into the car he’s recently purchased and before I can buckle up, he pulls me to him and kisses me. It’s the kind of kiss that says I’ve missed you. He raises a brow. “You want to skip dinner?”

I nod enthusiastically.

He drives us to his house where we spend the evening in his bed. When our stomachs roar in tandem, he slides out from next to me and jumps into a pair of sweatpants that accent the perfect globes of his ass.

Fit isn’t a word I’d use to describe Hugh. He’s perfect from his tousled brown hair to his size ten feet.

“Omelets okay?” He tosses me his shirt and tells me to join him in the kitchen. It all feels so perfect and domestic. He makes everything so easy.

“Omelets are perfect. You want some help?”

“Love, if you try to help, we’ll be another hour away from eating. I can’t seem to get enough of you.” He takes eggs, milk, cheese and bacon out of the refrigerator. “Have a seat at the table.” He looks over at the piles of papers and shakes his head. “Just push that stuff to the side.”

I take a seat where I can watch this man make me breakfast. He’s barefoot and bare-chested, and I’m barely in control of myself. We’ve shared so much in the last few weeks—our hopes and dreams and desires along with our bodies.

I snap a picture of him whipping up eggs and send it to my sister. She’s a huge believer in fate and thinks that it is no accident I met Hugh in a bar and fucked his brains out that same day.

I’m not sure if I’m on board with fate, but I do believe that Hugh is the perfect fit for me. He relaxes me, and I don’t feel nearly as stressed out about graduating.

My sister texts back. “Aren’t you glad you stepped out of your comfort zone?”

“Yes, I am. He’s one sexy professor, and I would have missed him if I’d remained the mouse.”

Lisa responds back with, “He’s one naughty professor you little lioness.” I haven’t told Lisa everything, but she knows enough to know that Hugh isn’t reading me sonnets at night.

I look at him again. His arms flex as he flips the omelet. I’ve been in those arms. I’ve grabbed that perfect butt. Something territorial inside me says, “He’s my naughty professor.”

While he whips and flexes, I glance at the top of his papers and see my graded assignment. A big fat C- stares back at me.

“I’m going to fail your class.” I let my head fall with a thunk to the table.

He pushes a plate toward me. The smell of bacon makes me sit up and take notice.

He sits across the table like we’re at a formal meeting.

“I was going to talk to you earlier at dinner, but we got distracted.” He looks at the paper sitting between us. “It’s a passing grade, Kat. You have no idea how much it pains me to grade you so low, but I won’t give you special treatment in class. I can’t honestly say the work is better than a C-. In fact, I’d say I was pretty generous.”

He takes a bite of his omelet and turns the paper to face him. His eyes scan down the page and he shakes his head.

“It’s not that you lack intelligence. You lack expression. Everything is black and white for you, like there should always be a sequence that will give you one particular answer.”

“It’s how I am—expressionless.” I push the paper to the side not wanting to let it ruin our moment together.

“You are anything but expressionless. You should see your face when I make you come.”

“That’s different because with you I feel something.”

“And you don’t feel anything when you read or write?”

“I feel bored.”

“It shows. You lack passion in your writing.”

“I don’t get it. How am I supposed to infuse passion into my words?”

“Let’s do an experiment.” He walks up behind me, teasing and touching my body. All the while he tells me to describe what he’s doing and how it makes me feel, even if it doesn’t sound like it makes sense.

I close my eyes and describe his touch from the way my skin tingles to the way my heart races. Somehow, his touch makes me feel like I’m more than I am. His words whisper sweet messages to my heart. My life feels hollow without him.

“Kat, those are powerful words. They make the reader want to continue on. You have passion in you, but it falls flat when it hits the paper.”

“I’m not writing about you in my paper. I’m writing about test tubes and diseases. It’s a technical paper. It’s not supposed to be full of passion.” I shouldn’t be arguing with him, but sitting in front of me in nothing but sweatpants makes it hard to see him as my professor. Right now, he’s Hugh, the man I love. Oh, God. I love him.

“Do you want someone to read it? If so, you’ll want to put your passion on the page. What’s the point in being published if no one reads your words?”

* * *

Two days later, I sit in his class and look down at my C-. He walks around the lecture hall and picks up papers from random desks and reads the passages he likes.

“Passion is not only found on the sheets of your bed,” he says, and looks directly at me. “Passion is found in everything, and it better be found on the sheets of paper for your next assignment.” He walks to the podium and closes his binder. “Mid-term due in three days. Bring the passion.”

I gather my stuff and hurry to catch up with him. We generally go to his office right after class and have lunch. The dates don’t always end with me naked on his desk, but the ones that do are my favorite.

Sometimes I curl up in the leather chair in the corner while he grades papers. It doesn’t matter what we do together, it’s always right. Except today, today doesn’t feel perfect. When I look up, he’s gone. I rush to his office to find the door locked.

I text him to ask where he’s gone off to?

“Sorry Katy, I had to run. Can you meet me in my office in thirty minutes?”

Relief washes over me. There’s nothing wrong after all, he just had some place to go.

Thirty minutes later, I’m waiting outside his office when he shows up with one of my classmates. Chris is one of Hugh’s star students, and I wonder why he’s here. The only students that generally show up for office hours are the ones struggling, the ass-kissers, or ones like me who are sleeping with the professor. Chris fits into none of the categories.

Hugh looks at me like he would any other student. He smiles kindly, not the smile that says I want to lay you on my desk so I can pound you until your hips hurt, but the smile that says, glad you could make it.

“Come on in, both of you.” He opens the door and walks in ahead of us. It’s an out of character action for the man who always puts me before him. He points to the two chairs in front of his desk.

Chris and I exchange hellos.

“Katy, I’ve asked Chris to help you with your next assignment. He has the highest grade in the class and you…well... it never hurts to get a second opinion.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I sit like a mute.

“I have time right now if you want to bounce some ideas off me.”

“I’d love to, but I was hoping to get some time alone with Professor Fletcher.” I looked toward Hugh who was already standing.

“I wish I could Ms. Trent, but I’m swamped today.” He waits for us to stand and ushers us to the door. “If Chris has time, I’d take advantage of that. I asked him to help because I want what's best for you, Katy.” He locks the door and walks in the opposite direction of Chris and me.

I spend the next hour in misery as Chris drones on about power words and parts of speech. I leave for home feeling like this was it. Hugh broke up with me.