CHAPTER THREE
WHEN THE HOUR was over and class was let out, Derek shoved his sunglasses back on and got to his feet, more than ready to leave. But Finn was taking his sweet-ass time packing his notebook and pens away, so it allowed him a moment to look at the man now standing behind the podium.
It hadn’t escaped his notice that Devaney had been keeping a close eye on him throughout the rest of the class. The guy was trying to be cool about it, but Derek had been watching him with such a tenacious stare of his own, and each time their eyes met, Devaney paused for a second as though he lost his train of thought.
Oh yeah, he’d definitely gotten under this guy’s skin, and Derek was slightly stunned by how much that discovery pleased him.
The professor was unlike anyone he’d ever met. His exuberant attitude had remained as he went into detail about what they’d be studying this semester, and it seemed as if the guy’s excitement grew with every word out of his mouth. It was contagious, and the class had responded with interest.
He, on the other had had responded with the hard-on he was currently trying to calm the hell down.
“You ready to head out?” Finn asked, breaking his concentration. Derek looked back at his friend, who was getting to his feet and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
“Sure, let’s go.” He went to step forward, and when Finn didn’t move, Derek spotted his somber expression.
Oh God, here we go…
“You’re going to tell me what happened this morning, right?”
Running a hand through his hair, Derek sighed. “Just the same old shit that always happens, Danny boy. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Come on, Derek. This is me you’re talking to. He hasn’t done that for a long-ass time.”
“Yeah, well, guess he got lucky this morning. Didn’t he?”
“What the fuck happened?”
Derek ground his teeth together and shot a glance over his shoulder to the front of the room. This time, he saw that Devaney was once again focused on them where they lingered.
“Do you think we could have this little heart-to-heart away from strangers’ ears?”
Finn’s eyes drifted past him to the inquisitive ones watching them. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
They headed for the aisle and then down the stairs toward the front door, then Derek heard a soft cough. Finn stopped first and Derek halted behind him, clutching the strap of his bag.
Aww hell. He’d hoped Devaney would let him go, considering he was having a hard time looking at the guy. Hard being the operative fucking word. But it seemed he wasn’t about to get off that easy.
Finn looked over his shoulder with his brow raised in a want me to stay? expression, but Derek gave a shake of his head. It was going to be difficult enough to hear whatever his professor wanted to say to him without having Finn sitting in the peanut gallery watching. “I’ll meet you outside.”
“You sure?”
He nodded and watched Finn push through the door. Derek pivoted around to find his professor now standing in front of the lectern.
“Derek. If you think you can manage to stay awake for five more minutes, I’d like to talk to you.”
Fuck, this is gonna be awkward as hell, he thought, as he let his bag slide down his arm so he could hold it in front of his idiotic cock. Was it serious right now? Damn thing had a mind of its own. This guy was likely about to hand him his ass on a platter, and here he was getting a goddamn erection.
“I think I can manage.”
“I’m so delighted to hear it,” Devaney said as he gestured to a seat in the front of the room. “Won’t you take a seat?”
Jesus, couldn’t they just get this over with and move on?
“Don’t see why not.”
With way more attitude than he’d usually adopt, Derek walked over to one of the seats and decided there was no way he was going to be able to conceal what was going on between his legs much longer, and instead dropped his bag by his feet and sat down, deciding, screw it, he couldn’t control who his dick liked. He wasn’t the one standing there demanding a private showing. Although…he didn’t hate the idea of Devaney giving him a real live strip show.
Derek allowed his eyes to travel up the man’s legs and torso before studying the face looking down at him. When he’d first seen Devaney he’d thought he was the TA, and that was for good reason—he was young. If Derek had to guess, maybe mid-twenties? He was fucking hot, too. Not overly tall, he stood at maybe five ten or eleven at best, and he had sharp, angular cheekbones, and a sculpted jaw that came to a haughty point at his arrogant chin.
“You know, Derek. I don’t have too much practice doing this, but I’m always the first to admit when I’m wrong. And I want to apologize to you for earlier.”
Oh…wow. Unsure of what was expected of him, Derek sat there silently. He really hadn’t been expecting that. When it became obvious he had nothing to say, Devaney slid his hands into the pockets of his skintight pants, and that had Derek’s eyes drifting to them.
Damn, they were tight. So tight he wondered how the professor had gotten into them that morning. Did he lie on his bed and wiggle his ass into that stiff fabric? Or did he bend at the waist and pull them up—
“Derek? Did you hear me?”
* * *
GOD SAVE ME from men like this. That was all Jordan could think as he waited for a response from the unreadable Derek Pearson. The guy had his shield firmly back in place, and though Jordan knew why the glasses were now there, he wanted to demand that Derek take the blasted things off so he could see where he was looking.
He had a feeling it was directly at him. Or maybe his package, considering how nicely wrapped and in Derek’s face it was right that second. But hell, it wasn’t his fault the guy was eye level with his cock now that he was seated. It was his fault, however, that the thought of unzipping and really giving him something to stare at briefly, ever so briefly, flashed through his mind.
Jordan shoved that aside, though, figuring he’d screwed up with this student enough for one day. Instead, he patiently waited for a response to his apology. Well, he tried to wait patiently, but it wasn’t exactly his strong suit. “Derek. Focus. Are you okay?”
Derek raised his chin, and though Jordan couldn’t see his eyes, he knew that they were now focused on his face.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s no biggie. I’ve had worse.”
As Derek’s answer registered with him, all other thoughts Jordan was having vanished. Those words did not sit well with him at all. They gave the impression that whoever had done the damage to his face was someone Derek knew, not just a random fight, and that was disturbing.
Jordan wanted to ask more. He had an unexplainable need to know who had hurt this man who seemed larger than life…indestructible. He racked his brain trying to come up with an excuse to dig for details, but nothing was coming. He couldn’t just demand answers. Derek didn’t know him from Adam, or likely trust him. So maybe his best course of action would be to extend an olive branch. He needed to somehow reach Derek Pearson and let him know that he was there. That he would listen—even if he seemed the most unlikely choice of a confidant at that precise moment.
After walking over to where Derek was seated, Jordan took the spot beside him, thinking it might be easier if he didn’t have to look at him. Swallowing back his pride, Jordan said, “I really shouldn’t have focused in on you this morning, and I’m—”
“Then why did you?”
Huh…? Jordan almost said aloud, tripping over his own words. But luckily he caught himself at the last minute. “Excuse me?” he asked instead.
Derek readjusted his posture and turned his large frame in Jordan’s direction. That was when he realized what a monumentally bad idea it had been to sit down next to Derek.
Derek’s size and pissy attitude was like a bright neon warning sign flashing: Danger. Danger. And it was like a rush of blood to his head, and not the one on his shoulders.
“Why did you single me out?” Derek asked again.
Damn. The guy lacks subtlety, that’s for sure.
“I just—” Jordan stopped himself right there and got to his feet so he could get some much-needed power in this exchange. How utterly ridiculous, he scolded himself. Do not act unsure for one second. You’re the adult here. Don’t forget that.
“I thought you were wearing your sunglasses as a sign of disrespect to me.”
Without missing a beat, Derek got to his feet also. Jordan didn’t dare move away, even as he had to crane his head up to meet where the guy’s eyes would be.
“Why would you think that? I don’t even know you.”
“Well, your attitude was less than…than…” As Derek stood there waiting for him to finish, Jordan’s words trailed off and his eyes narrowed. Hang on one damn minute, how did this turn into my issue? They were supposed to be talking about Derek, and there was no way on God’s green earth he was about to admit any insecurities to this guy. One of his students. He was fucking fabulous and he wasn’t about to let Derek believe he’d had any effect on him. So instead of finishing his thought, Jordan held up a hand and shook it in a forget it kind of way. “How about we agree that we got off on the wrong foot, and move forward from here.”
Derek cocked his head to the side and then removed his sunglasses. His eye looked swollen and painful, and Jordan was alarmed by how much he wanted to reach up and gently run his fingers down the side of his face to make sure he was okay. But really, as if this guy needed coddling.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Jordan asked, taken off guard by Derek’s easy acquiescence.
“Yeah. It is what it is. Whatever. Is there anything else?”
Jordan wanted to offer his ear should Derek need someone to talk to. But at the same time he wasn’t one hundred percent convinced it was his good intentions and not his cock doing the offering, and for that reason all he said was, “No. That’ll be all.”
Derek picked up his bag and as he walked to the door Jordan spun away and shut his eyes, trying to calm himself.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh. My. God. Talk about a first-day impression.
“Oh, and Professor Devaney…” Derek’s voice had him slowly pivoting to see him standing at the door—all six foot whatever-he-was of him.
“Yes, Derek?”
“I just want you to know, I respect who you are, very much.”
And with the ambiguous comment, Derek Pearson left his classroom.
* * *
DEREK CAUGHT UP with Finn just outside the History building, where he sat on one of the stairs waiting for him. Damn it, he’d been hoping that moment inside would be the last he’d have to talk about his craptastic morning, but it appeared his torture wasn’t over just yet.
As soon as Derek stopped beside his friend, Finn was on his feet and looking at him with expectation in his eyes, and Derek knew the quicker he got this over with, the sooner he’d be able to forget it ever happened.
“Okay, Danny boy. Let’s have it,” he said as they walked down the stairs. He dug in his front pocket for his pack of Marlboros. “Ask what you want, I’ll answer. Then we won’t talk about this again. Deal?”
“Deal.”
They headed along the path across the lawn toward the east building, and he didn’t even bother to ask where they were going. He was too busy inside his head trying to work out a way to phrase his next words so Finn wouldn’t feel any guilt over them.
He took a cigarette between his lips and lit up, taking a drag to try and calm his frayed nerves. He really didn’t want to get into this, but Finn had other ideas.
“When did it happen?”
One thing that could be said about Daniel Finley was his directness. Derek didn’t know any other person as blunt as the guy walking beside him, and if Finn wanted something he would, in the end, always get it. That would make him a helluva lawyer one day, even as it made him a giant pain in the ass today.
“This morning.”
“Fuck, Derek.”
When several passersby turned their way, Derek scrubbed an agitated hand over his chin. “Would you keep your voice down?”
“Sorry, but damn it. How are you even here? Your face must be killing you.”
“Yeah, it hurts like a bitch.”
“Let me take you to the ER.”
“How about no.”
“Don’t be stupid. You need to get it checked out. Make sure he didn’t fracture your cheekbone.”
As they stepped under a covered walkway, Derek tugged on Finn’s arm and led him to one of the benches in front of a trimmed hedge. “Nothing’s broken.”
“How do you know? Your eye is barely open.”
“I just need some ice.”
“Jesus. When are you gonna pack your shit and get the hell out of there?”
This argument wasn’t new, but he didn’t want to be a burden to the Finley family. They had gone through enough. Mrs. Finley had raised two children on her own, three if Derek counted himself, which he might as well with the amount of time he’d spent there over the years. There was no way he was bringing his father’s wrath to their door. Right now, the only reason his father tolerated him was because he was one hell of a deduction at tax time. But he knew it was only a matter of years before that ran out. “When I can afford to.”
“I’ve told you over and over—”
“No, Daniel.” His friend shut up then. Finn knew he was serious when he used his full name. It was a rare event, and Derek’s tone said he was done talking about it.
“Then tell me why. He hasn’t touched you in at least…I don’t know…but it’s been a while.”
“A year. At least a year. Ever since I started spending time at the gym, the fucker got smart. Decided it wasn’t a good idea to pick on someone who outweighed him.”
Finn sat down on the bench, and Derek followed suit. When they were side by side, a comfortable silence settled between them, and he marveled at the peace he felt with Finn. He’d often wondered why they didn’t work on a level beyond friends. But he knew deep down this was why. They were like brothers. It might not have been by blood, but it sure as fuck was through choice. He would do anything for Finn and he knew that feeling was mutual. They had each other’s backs, and he knew no matter what happened or where they ended up, they always would.
“Tell me.” Finn’s voice was soft, but his tone firm.
“He called you a…” Derek was unable to bring himself to say it. A large, comforting hand touched his shoulder, and when Finn squeezed, Derek tried again. “He called you a faggot.”
The word lingered between the two of them for a moment, and before he could open his mouth and say anything further, Finn got in first. “And then he hit you?”
“No. I hit him first.”
“Derek.” Finn sighed and got to his feet. Then he gripped the back of his neck as he paced, and it had Derek shooting off the bench.
“He fucking deserved it. He’s a homophobic prick.”
Finn whirled around to face him and poked him in the chest. “You know better than to react to him that way. Especially over me. What do I care if he calls me a faggot or a queer? I am queer. But you know what I do care about? I care about my best friend getting a fist in his face. That I care about. Who knows what would’ve happened if you’d fallen to the ground unconscious? I’ve seen you after his boot has hit your ribs. I don’t want to see that again, Derek.”
“I know,” Derek said, and cursed under his breath as Finn clasped the back of his neck and pulled him into a hug. It wasn’t awkward, since the two of them were roughly the same height. It actually felt pretty damn good to be touched that way. To be comforted. Then Finn turned his head and whispered in his ear, “Don’t ever let him make you doubt yourself. Not ever.”
He hugged Finn a little tighter then, because while he’d reacted to the words on his friend’s behalf, the both of them knew the pain ran on a much deeper and more personal level.
One that was dark.
One that was damaged beyond repair.
One that made him wonder if he’d ever be able to find peace in his life. And the only thing he knew with exact certainty was that he would never give up trying.