CHAPTER TWO
THE PEOPLE WHO stand out as special in your life are usually put in your path for a reason.
Camille Finley, Finn’s mom, had said that to him last night as Derek sat at her kitchen nook and ate a “good luck on your first day of college” spaghetti dinner with his best friend. He’d been in the process of trying to work out a way to thank her for being the mother he’d never had. But, as usual, when he’d gotten to the emotional “Thank you. I love you” part, he’d choked the fuck up. That had been when she walked around the counter and gave his large shoulders a squeeze, and whispered those words of wisdom in his ear.
He was starting to think the woman was right, too, because if it hadn’t been for her, he sure as hell wouldn’t be standing on the perfectly manicured lawn of a university with a swollen eye and one hell of a headache, waiting on her late-ass son.
Yeah, today was the first day of the rest of his life. His first day of college. And even though he’d worked damn hard to be there, a part of him already wanted out. The part that was embarrassed to know that he’d have to sit through class with his sunglasses on or look like the kind of dick who got into weekend fistfights. Fucking awesome.
The shitty part of the situation was that he wanted to be there. But now he was stuck with a shiner developing on his face that would no doubt draw attention and questions about himself, and not the good damn kind.
I mean, really, can the day get any worse?
The constant heat that blanketed the small town of Sunset Cove was in full effect as all the students who would be attending college for the upcoming year were trying to find their classes. He glanced at his watch again, and when he saw the time he grimaced. Finn was really late. That was just brilliant. Why not add that to the list of shit that was starting to pile up: late on the first day.
He should’ve known better. During his run he’d noticed the waves were perfect for surfing, and after years of friendship he should’ve clued in to what his buddy would be doing this morning, no matter how late it made him.
That didn’t help him out, though. He didn’t want to get off to a bad start with his professors, so he walked up the path that dissected the lawn and headed toward the front entrance of the History building. After climbing the stairs to the double doors, he heard his name being called from behind and spotted Finn jogging across the lawn toward him.
Daniel Finley—Finn to most, and Danny boy to him on occasion—was his best friend. He understood who Derek was and the situation he came from. That didn’t mean the two of them hadn’t had their fair share of throw-downs, though.
He was too irritated right now to bother acknowledging his friend, who had finally come to a standstill opposite him with a grin so wide it looked like it was about to slide right off his face. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Jesus. Relax, would ya? I got held up. My first class was an hour before yours, remember? And then the rooms got switched, so I totally missed it. By the time I found the damn thing, it was over and I got stuck explaining myself to my law professor. Why are your panties in such a twist?”
Shit, he’d forgotten that. He’d been too busy trying to work out how the hell to hide his mangled face. “Sorry, man. I blanked. But now I’m late. Not exactly how I wanted to start my academic future. With a professor riding my ass.”
Finn opened his mouth and a mischievous light entered his eyes. He was probably about to throw out some jab on how he knew Derek liked to be ridden, but then he caught himself and let whatever comment he’d been about to say go. Derek figured the grim expression he must’ve been sporting had a lot to do with Finn’s silence.
Daniel Finley may have had that easygoing surfer vibe happening, but he was one smart guy. Tall, almost as tall as himself, he was broad-shouldered, with a golden tan, and had shoulder-length blond hair that was currently shoved behind his ears. Most underestimated the guy, and were shocked as hell when this beach boy outsmarted them every damn time.
Wanting to steer the conversation to his own liking, Derek said, “You know, out of all the classes I’m dreading, history has to be top of the list. What the fuck do ancient ruins have to do with a business degree? It makes zero sense to even have it on my syllabus.”
Finn held open the door for him, and when he loped past, Finn clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We picked this course because it’s pretty much the only class we’ll see each other in. So stop bitching and get your ass inside, would you?”
“Yeah, yeah. I just don’t see the point,” Derek grumbled as they entered the large lecture hall and trudged up the stairs to the middle of the room. He was pleased to find that even though they were late, it appeared their professor was also.
Leaving his sunglasses in place, Derek squashed his large frame into one of the small seats to the left of the aisle and then swept a surreptitious glance over the students already seated. Most looked like your average high schooler. Fresh faced eighteen-or nineteen-year-olds, thinking they were adults now that they’d graduated and moved on to pursue a higher education. Most of them also looked as though they could afford to be there and weren’t the owner of a purple bruise forming around their eye courtesy of their father—something he was well aware made him very different to this preppy crowd of overachievers and history nerds.
Fucking hell. What am I doing here? It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind, which was insane considering he’d only been at school for… Shit, twenty minutes. But really, what am I doing here?
He wasn’t like these kids. They’d been waiting their whole life for this opportunity. Hell, they probably had career plans mapped out when they were in grade school and then worked toward it in high school.
Him? Not so much. He’d been busy working out at the gym at every opportunity he could get to focus his adrenaline and frustration in a specific and controlled way. Not to mention trying to fucking survive his childhood and adolescence. So yeah, he was totally winging it, and was here only courtesy of financial aid and a scholarship he’d submitted and actually been accepted for.
Miracle of all fucking miracles.
Finn leaned over and bumped arms with his. “See, you were worried about nothing.”
Derek turned to face his friend and slumped a little farther down in his chair. “I guess.”
“What do you mean, you guess?”
“I mean, I fucking guess. Jesus.”
“Cool it, would you?” Finn said under his breath. “What’s up with you this morning? And what’s with the sunglasses? Late night out on the town?”
“No. Early appointment with my father’s fist—” His words came to an abrupt halt when the door to the lecture hall swung open and crashed back against the wall, followed by an “Oh, shit!” which echoed off the cavernous ceiling.
The new arrival, a young guy carrying a mountain of books almost taller than himself, then stepped into the room and peered around the stack of literature practically weighing him down.
“Check this guy out,” he said, trying to get Finn’s attention off him. He knew his friend wanted to ask more, but Finn was smart enough to know that now wasn’t the time or the place. So, like a good friend, he let it go while Derek continued on about anything other than himself. “I get wanting to impress the professor if you’re his TA, but fuck, man, you can make two trips. He isn’t even here yet.”
“No lie. He looks like he’s gonna fall flat on his face.” Finn laughed.
They both watched as the guy barely made his way across the front of the room, where he dumped the stack of books on the wooden table beside the podium. When he straightened up, he placed his hands on his narrow hips and blew out a deep breath.
“Whew. Where’s a strapping young man to carry your books when you need one?” he announced loud enough to grab hold of anyone’s attention he didn’t already have. If the volume of his exclamation didn’t do it, then his words sure as fuck did. Not to mention his clothes.
The guy was wearing the brightest pair of yellow pants Derek had ever seen, with a violet button-up short-sleeved shirt. It was tucked in at his trim waist and outlined by a thin belt the same color as the shirt. His lean frame took nothing away from his confidence, though, as he surveyed the faces of everyone now solely focused on him. He didn’t seem embarrassed, humiliated, or in any way uncomfortable, except for the fact that he’d just lugged half a damn library into a room.
That confidence instantly intrigued Derek, because while he himself most certainly looked confident on the outside, there was a whole fuck ton of self-doubt just beneath the tattooed top layer. This man who’d captured his and everyone else in the room’s attention, on the other hand, appeared to know exactly who he was.
“Good morning, class. As you can see, I’m a little all over the place, but rest assured now that I’ve finally located my classroom this won’t be an ongoing occurrence,” he said, his hands moving right along with his words as though part of a choreographed dance. “Well.” He laughed. “The all-over-the-place part, that is. I can’t guarantee complete punctuality because I’m always late. What? It takes time to look this fabulous every day. But I’ll work on that too. As long as you all promise to try and be here on time as well.”
The guy aimed a dazzling smile up at them, and the class laughed—everyone except for Derek.
What the hell is this? he thought as he sat up a little straighter in his seat. Who the fuck is this guy? Derek aimed a look toward Finn, who was grinning like a loon at the extra-perky bottle of energy bouncing around the front of the class, and that only confused Derek more.
Where is the stuffy old professor? Where is the gray-haired, sweater-wearing, doddering old professor?
That was when the guy at the front of the lecture hall stood in front of the podium and clasped his hands together.
“I suppose you’re all wondering who I am. Well, let me clear that up for you in case you’re having any doubts. My name is Professor Jordan Devaney. And over the next few months we’ll be exploring Pompeii together. Sounds boring, I know. But do I really look like someone who’s going to bore you? I don’t think so. Right. So, any questions before we get started?”
Yeah, just one—what the actual fuck?
* * *
JORDAN HAD BEEN waiting for this moment ever since he’d decided to take the university job. The moment when that slack-jawed look of what the hell hit his students’ faces. Yes, that was exactly the expression he’d wanted to see, and they weren’t disappointing him in the least.
In all fairness, he mused, it could be my clothes.
He was glad he’d gone with his gut decision to be himself this morning. It was a good reminder to these kids that people didn’t necessarily come in specific molds, and he sure as hell didn’t fit into any. Especially not the typical uptight professor type.
He shuddered at the notion. There was only one way he ever wanted to be described as being tight, and it certainly wasn’t in regard to his personality.
As he let the announcement of who he was settle in and register, Jordan began pacing the front of the room and let his eyes trail over the faces staring down at him. That was when he noted their somewhat stunned expressions morphing into grins. That was the other reaction he’d hoped for.
Shock turned to excitement.
He didn’t want their first day to suck. Hell, he didn’t want his to either. The way he looked at it was that he was going to do everything in his power to make his class so damn exciting they’d be gagging for it.
Okay, so maybe not the best analogy to think of in the same sentence as his students. Strike one against being a responsible adult.
As he came to a standstill on the left-hand side of the room, he looked up the stadium seating and spotted two guys seated next to one another midway up the aisle. Each of them had a very different air about them.
One was grinning at him like a fool. Oh, honey, aren’t you a heartbreaker, Jordan thought, as his eyes trailed over him. The guy had a wide, inviting smile that lit up his whole face with a youthful and beautiful quality. He had long blond hair and twinkling eyes that seemed as bright as his grin. The staple beach boy, harmless and carefree, but the guy next to him…he was the complete opposite. Serious and sunglassed, he caught and held Jordan’s attention for very different reasons.
With spiky brown hair and muscles on top of muscles, he was exactly the kind of guy Jordan had imagined carrying his books moments earlier. It was a miracle he could fit into the tiny seat he’d squeezed himself into. As it was, he looked terribly uncomfortable, like a pack of sardines squashed into a tin can. He had a snug black V-neck shirt on and, hello, swirling down around those thick arms were several intricate tattoos and, lord help me is that…yes, black nail polish.
From where he was standing, Jordan couldn’t see what his tattoos were of, but he was acutely aware of them. He was also fairly positive that the ink spread under the student’s shirt and across the built body it was molded to, which was the worst kind of torture he could’ve ever been faced with.
There was nothing he was more of a sucker for than tattoos.
No. Thaaat’s a lie, Jordan thought. I’m a total fool for muscles and tattoos. Strike two against being a responsible adult.
Damn it. This was not what he needed on his first day. He wanted sweet, eager students. Not unreadable ones whose entire demeanor screamed, Total. Badass.
But as the student continued to watch him, the barrier of the sunglasses and the tight set of his lips had one very immediate reaction rising to the surface.
No. No, no. There will be no rising of any kind. None. But there was no denying it—this guy made Jordan’s cock hard. And there you have it—strike three and I’m out before ten minutes has even passed.
While he stood there willing his dick to ignore its wayward fantasies of taming the bad boy, he took in the mirrored Aviators hiding the guy’s eyes and then walked forward, needing to get closer despite himself.
He was ashamed to admit it, but the unnerving way the student was watching him didn’t make Jordan want to tuck tail and run. If anything, it represented the one thing he enjoyed most in the world. The one thing that up until this very second had been missing—a challenge.
“You,” Jordan said, singling him out by pointing in his direction. When Mr. Muscles seemed to realize he was indicating him, his brow knitted together in a fierce furrow over those glasses.
“How about you remove your sunglasses while inside and tell us what most interests you about history and what you hope to get out of this class.”
Jordan watched as an eyebrow rose over the frame in a how ’bout you go fuck yourself expression, and it took everything in him not to respond. This guy’s demeanor radiated a silent, otherworldly wisdom, as though he’d seen way more in his life than Jordan could ever begin to imagine, and all because of the don’t mess with me attitude he was exuding.
Jordan also had a feeling that when the guy decided to finally unfold himself from his seat he would be one hell of an intimidating presence. One that under any other circumstance he’d like to climb like a tree.
“Did you need me to repeat myself?” Jordan asked, knowing he needed to establish a firm line between student and teacher right away to keep his own perverse imaginings at bay, and that was when it happened.
As if he’d prodded the guy to the point of him not being able to resist, the student slowly got to his feet and—good God—Jordan hadn’t been wrong. He was built like a brick shithouse. A real-life He-Man.
“No. I heard you,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain but clear enough to be heard around the room. He then reached up and removed his sunglasses, tossing them down on the seat behind him, and Jordan’s breath caught in his throat.
Oh holy Jesus. There’d been a reason for the sunglasses beyond the attitude. That was blatantly obvious now as he looked up into a face that had one frosty blue eye pinned on him, while the other struggled to open even a fraction of an inch. The guy had clearly been on the receiving end of a very hard-hitting fist. Shit.
Before Jordan could get out the words to tell him to take a seat, He-Man crossed his arms over his chest in a move that dared Jordan to make a big deal out of it. Obviously, he hadn’t wanted to draw attention to himself earlier, hence the sunglasses, but now that Jordan had inadvertently outed him, he wasn’t backing down for anyone. His attitude oozed agitation and his stance was defiant. All in all, he was pissed, and it was because Jordan had read the signals wrong.
Great. Off to a fantastic start with this one. How was I supposed to know he had a whopping great bruiser on his face? I wasn’t. So no harm. No foul. Act cool.
“Okay. Go ahead.”
He-Man swiped his tongue over his surly lip and then slipped his hands into his pockets. “What most interests me about the class?” he repeated.
Jordan nodded and watched He-Man give a careless shrug, as if he didn’t give a shit, which he probably didn’t.
And why is it that this kind of guy always floats my boat?
“Not much, really. I don’t see what history has to do with the degree I’m actually aiming for, but it was either this or physics, and I figured I was less likely to fall asleep in this one. So there’s that.”
Jordan’s lips pressed together at the sarcastic response just as the guy’s friend let out a disbelieving laugh. He slid his eyes to the blond in time to see him whack the huge thigh of the smartass standing beside him, and Jordan could feel his face flushing with annoyance.
No wonder he has a black eye. He thinks he’s hot shit. Karma, you are one fickle bitch.
As if the guy knew he’d pissed him off, the side of He-Man’s mouth quirked, and Jordan could feel the heat from his irritation bubbling under the surface.
“As for what I want to get out of it? A passing grade so I don’t have to retake the class seems like a good goal right this second.”
“Derek!”
And now I have a name…
“Derek, is it?” Jordan asked, and when Derek nodded once, he continued. “I, too, hope you pass this class, though for reasons I’m sure differ from your own. Why don’t you take a seat before you land on a shitlist beyond mine, which you have successfully taken the number one spot on within”—he glanced at the clock on the wall then back to his student—“ten minutes of being in my class.”
Deciding he needed to move on and have this exchange be over, Jordan turned his back on Derek and let his eyes rove over the other students watching with a mixture of incredulity and mirth on their faces.
For the rest of the class he didn’t call on Derek Pearson—yes, he soon learned his last name—but Jordan felt his gaze on him every time he spoke.
It wasn’t the scowl from earlier, or the curious interest of a student. No, it was something much more dangerous. Something he’d never been able to resist in the past. It was something that was going to make teaching this class much more difficult than he ever could’ve anticipated.
That look was bold and daring, it was in your face, and somehow Jordan knew he’d just met his “challenge.”