It took Baxter close to ten minutes to gather the courage to go inside and face Professor St. Croix. He wasn't even sure why he was dreading this meeting so much. It wasn't like he hadn't failed classes before or had been in academic trouble before. These types of conversations weren't new to him, so why was he fearing this particular one? And why had he felt so embarrassed when St. Croix had shown up at the restaurant yesterday?

He'd been on his first assignment for Valentine’s Inc. Or his first date, whatever you wanted to call it. And it had been sweet, a newly out guy wanting to practice his conversational and dating skills before signing up to meet real dates. Mitch, his fake date, had described it as a practice date, and Baxter had thought it was cute. Sure, Mitch was not even close to his type and Mitch had admitted as much about Baxter as well, but he’d said it had helped him gain confidence. Hey, if confidence got him paid a hundred bucks plus a spectacular free meal, Baxter was all for it.

Until St. Croix had shown up and had managed to reduce him to a nobody with those simple words. Why had it hit him so hard? He'd been shocked to learn he hadn't turned in his assignment. As soon as he'd gotten home, he'd checked. St. Croix had been right. And Baxter had no trouble figuring out what had happened.

He'd done the paper and had been uploading it when he'd been running late for work. So he’d left, leaving his computer on to finish the upload. When he'd gotten back, he could see there had been a power outage. A short one, a couple of minutes at most, but it had probably occurred during the upload and it had aborted the upload. And Baxter, being an idiot, hadn't checked to make sure.

And yesterday, he'd worked all day, a ten-hour shift at Rocky’s, before racing home to change for dinner, so he had never even checked his email. If he had a working smart phone he could've checked it at work, but his phone was on a calls-and-text-only plan, since he couldn't afford a data plan.

So now he had to face him, St. Croix. Baxter dragged himself out of his car and slowly made his way inside. When he got to St. Croix’s office, there was another student waiting before him, so he parked himself in a chair in the hallway and grabbed his syllabus from his bag. If he had to spend half an hour waiting here, he might as well make good use of his time. As usual, he got so sucked into reading that the world around him disappeared.

"It's not gonna work, you know." A cross voice yanked him out of his reading.

Baxter's head jerked up. "Excuse me?"

St. Croix pointed at the syllabus Baxter was reading. "Trying to placate me by reading that so I can see it. It's not gonna work."

Humiliation came first, then anger. "I'm not trying to placate you. I'm trying to stay on top of my assignments. You told us to read the syllabus before next week's class, right?"

St. Croix stared at him for a few seconds, then jerked his chin in the direction of his room. "Come on in."

Well, they were off to a good start already, Baxter thought, his stomach sinking even more as he trudged into St. Croix’s room. The professor pointed toward a chair across from his desk, and Baxter obediently lowered himself.

"You failed to turn in your paper," St. Croix said, his voice stern.

It shouldn't affect him that much, that tone, but it did. Baxter found himself almost squirming in his seat, the weight of St. Croix’s disappointment heavy on him. What the fuck was wrong with him that he was trying to please someone he barely knew? Someone who clearly had his mind made up about him already and wasn't inclined to even give him a chance?

"It was caused by a power outage," Baxter said, hoping against hope that St. Croix would believe him. "I left before the upload to the portal was done and right after, there was a power outage. It never completed the upload, and I didn't see it."

"You should have checked."

What else could he say to that but, "Yes, sir. I will next time."

"So you're telling me you had the paper all done? That means that if I asked for it right now, you would be able to hand it over?"

Baxter nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. I tried to upload it again to the portal last night, but it was closed because the deadline had passed. But I have it right here on my laptop if you want to see."

"You could've printed it for me," St. Croix said.

Baxter bit back a frustrated response. "I would have, sir, if I had a printer, which I don't."

"There's a printer in the library here," St. Croix said.

"Yes, and it costs fifteen cents per page. This is a thirty-page paper."

Something changed in St. Croix’s face, and Baxter wasn't sure what caused it. Was the man realizing Baxter couldn't afford to spend five dollars on printing a paper?

"Email it to me," the professor said. "You can use the Wi-Fi here in my office, right now."

This time, Baxter couldn't hold back his response. "Is that because you don't believe I have it finished?"

"The thought crossed my mind, yes. Or you could've slapped something together this morning."

Baxter slowly shook his head. "I know your opinion of my academic level isn't very high, but you can't seriously believe I had time between yesterday evening when I found out I hadn't turned in the paper and now to write a thirty-page paper. Sir."

Their eyes held for a few seconds, and then St. Croix’s face lost some of its stern expression. "I admit it seems unlikely. If you email it to me now, I will grade it as if it was turned in on time. How's that?"

Instead of answering him, Baxter grabbed his laptop from his bag and fired it up. "What's the Wi-Fi password?" he asked.

St. Croix scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. Baxter smiled when he saw it. The man really was a history geek, and Baxter found it strangely endearing. He typed in the password, D-day04061945, then frowned as it connected. "Isn't the date mixed up?" he asked.

"It's how the Europeans write a date, with date and month reversed to how we do it. I figured it was fitting, what with it being in Europe and all."

His computer connected to the Wi-Fi, and with a few quick strokes, Baxter sent his paper to St. Croix’s email. "You should have it any second now, sir."

He was barely finished when the man's computer pinged with an incoming email, and Baxter let out a sigh of relief. That at least had worked.

"I trust you won't share my Wi-Fi password with anyone else," St. Croix said.

"Of course not, sir."

"It’s my own network, since the school’s network is so slow."

Baxter wasn't sure what to make of that. Was it aimed at making him feel special? Hell, it would take a lot more to feel that, especially after the way the man had treated him both in the restaurant and just now. It was weird, the dynamic they had. It felt personal, but it couldn't be, could it?

"Your secret is safe with me," he said as he rose from his chair, packing his laptop back into his bag. "If that's all, I’m gonna head out. I have another appointment," he said, which was a fancy way of saying he needed to get to work.

"Another hot date, Baxter?" St. Croix asked, shocking Baxter with the use of his first name.

That was stupid since a lot of professors called students by their first name, but St. Croix had always been a tad old-fashioned and insisted on calling people Mr. and Ms. The only exceptions he made to that rule were for two non-binary students, who he addressed by their preferred pronouns, which Baxter respected him for. Not all profs were that accommodating.

Then St. Croix’s actual question sank in. "Excuse me?" Baxter managed, flustered. Why on earth was his professor asking about his personal life? This was getting weirder and weirder.

"Look, Baxter, I believe you when you say you missed this deadline by accident, but we both know your grades aren't exactly stellar. You may want to focus on your studies rather than your boyfriend, if I may say so."

Baxter's mouth dropped open a little. The man had not just said that, had he? Oh my god, yes, he had. What the hell was going on here? This was way, way outside the bounds of a professional teacher-student relationship. And what was worse, it bothered Baxter on a level he couldn't even grasp that St. Croix thought he had a boyfriend. It shouldn't matter, but it did, and Baxter needed to clear that part up, even if he didn't understand why.

"He's not my boyfriend."

Something flashed over St. Croix’s face. "Well, dating in general, then."

Baxter shook his head. "It wasn't a date either. It was…"

How could he ever explain this in a way that made sense? He couldn't. Admitting that he dated men for money? That was too humiliating to even consider. He should've kept his mouth shut, should have let the guy believe it had been his boyfriend or a date. Why did he even care what the man thought in the first place?

"That bistro isn't cheap, Baxter. If a man takes you out for dinner there, trust me, it's a date."

"Does that mean you were on a date as well? Because I saw you with a man there," Baxter fired back, not even knowing where his gumption came from.

St. Croix shot to his feet, his eyes sparkling with fire. "Don't be ridiculous. That man is like a father to me. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Neither do you. For all you know, that man could have been my brother," Baxter said.

He wasn't sure how, but suddenly, St. Croix was right in front of him, their bodies only inches apart. "Was he your brother?" the man asked, those blue eyes of his burning holes into Baxter's soul.

Baxter swallowed. "No."

"I didn't think so," St. Croix said, and his smugness irritated the crap out of Baxter.

"So let me get this straight. You're insisting I was on a date, just because it's an expensive restaurant and I wasn't related to the guy, but if I tell you the same, I'm wrong? Double standard much? You don't know what the hell you're talking about. And it's none of your fucking business in the first place. I don't have to explain my personal life to you, and I have zero intention to. Have a nice day, Professor."

What the ever-loving fuck was wrong with him? Hagen couldn't believe he’d mentioned what he'd seen in the restaurant to Baxter, let alone involve him in a whole argument about whether it was a date. Inappropriate didn't even begin to describe it, and if Baxter reported him to anyone, he could lose his job.

Hagen didn't think he would, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he could, that he had a right to. He couldn't believe he'd lost all semblance of being professional with him. What was wrong with him that he couldn't get Baxter off his mind? He didn't even know him. What was so special about this one guy that he couldn't seem to let him go? Baxter had been absolutely right that it was none of Hagen’s fucking business, as he had put it so succinctly.

He pondered this as he drove home from work. Baxter was cute, there was no denying it, and he had something about him that drew Hagen in, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. When he’d told Hagen off, that had been hot as fuck, and Hagen had been hard, for fuck’s sake. But that couldn't be all. Maybe it had something to do with the bad memories from the past that had been stirred up.

That invitation from The Basement, for starters. That had gotten him thinking about how he was still alone, even years later. The conversation with Bertrand about Jake, with all the questions he'd asked about what had gone wrong between them. It had gotten Hagen thinking about Jake, and about CJ, his boyfriend before Jake. And that had made him feel like a lonely, somewhat bitter old man. Not a feeling he particularly enjoyed.

That had to be what had fueled his inappropriate obsession with Baxter, a combination of feeling like he had to prove something to himself and simple physical attraction. After all, Baxter was an attractive guy and Hagen was gay. That in itself didn't mean anything.

Well, it did mean he had to figure out a solution, because this couldn't continue any longer. If he was unsuccessful in forcing Baxter off his mind by sheer will, he'd have to resort to more drastic measures. What he needed was to stop feeling sorry for himself. He needed to find himself a date.

No, not a real date, because he wasn't ready yet for any romantic entanglements and all the emotional complications that would bring. But he could go to that charity event in L.A. and show his fellow club members that he was still…

He sighed. That he was still what? Cool? Hot enough to attract a date? God, when had he become so pathetic? Still, the idea of a visit to his old club made him excited. It would be wonderful to see old friends again, to dip his toes back into the lifestyle he’d left behind when he moved here. But he wasn't going there by himself. If he did this, he would need a boy by his side. Not only would it prevent him from seeing people look at him with sympathy, but it would also assure he wouldn't be accosted by every available boy in the club. Because if that happened, he would have to turn down about ninety-five percent of them, because he wasn't what they were looking for.

No, he needed to show up with someone by his side, but how to find someone? You couldn't just take anyone to a club like that. It had to be someone who knew what to expect, who knew how to behave, who knew how to treat Hagen with the proper respect in an environment like that. He'd never been super strict as a Dom, but he did demand respect from his boys, and there were a ton of little things a boy needed to know before being ready to be presented in public like that. He'd have to either find someone who knew the scene, or he'd have to train someone.

Funny enough, the latter appealed to him on some level. He hadn't played for so long that the idea of doing it again made his blood speed up. But how could he ever find someone? He'd have to scour local clubs, if they even existed. Well, there had to be a few in Boston, right? But then he'd have to go through the whole awkward thing again where he had to explain what he was looking for. There had to be an easier way.

There had to be an easier way. He knew there were websites where people who were into various kinks could find others who shared their interests. Would something like that be a possibility? He’d never really checked them out before, not having any reason to.

He was so excited by the idea that he went online as soon as he got home. He did find some sites aimed at the BDSM community, but it quickly became clear he was too vanilla for them. Those were more geared toward people interested in more hard-core exploration of D/s play or of the other letters in the BDSM acronym, he discovered, which made sense.

He tried a few different search terms, hoping to find something similar but more tame, when an ad popped up. Valentine’s Inc. He frowned. Let us find your perfect partner for any occasion, it said, next to a picture of two men having a cozy dinner. Was it a regular dating site, but for gay men?

Out of curiosity, he clicked on the link. A little browsing through the website showed him that Valentine’s Inc. was much more than that. Yes, part of what they did was a dating agency, but they also provided paid dates for business events or personal situations where you didn't want to show up alone.

That was kind of what he was looking for, wasn't it? But would they have someone who fit his needs? It was a long shot, but Hagen was willing to try. He checked the reviews, found them mostly positive, then did a double check on their reputation within the gay community. It was solid, and before he could talk himself out of it, Hagen poured himself a glass of wine and started filling out the questionnaire.

He tried to be as specific as he could, knowing he needed to find the right person. There was little sense in having dozens of men apply only to find out they weren’t willing to provide what Hagen need it. No, he'd better weed them out right away, so he'd be left with ones that were interested in doing this.

The website allowed him to use a fake name for the initial dates, even though the company had his real name and identity. It was a safeguard that Hagen completely supported. And in his case, what with him being a college professor and all, he'd better make use of it. He called himself James Ryan, quietly laughing as he wondered if anyone would get the reference to the movie. Probably not, considering what a common name it was, but it didn't matter.

He read through his application one more time, and when he was convinced this was as good as he could present himself, he hit the send button. The pop-up told him they would contact him within forty-eight hours to see if he was a suitable candidate, and if he was, they would schedule an interview with him. He liked that Valentine’s Inc. took it seriously, protecting their users. The terms of service had stated they would verify his identity and do a standard background check. Nothing wrong with that.

Satisfied that he'd at least done something, Hagen grabbed a meal from the freezer, popped it in the microwave and heated it up. Now all he had to do was wait.

Within twenty-four hours, he received an email that his application had been accepted, and a week later—a week in which he'd graded Baxter's paper with another B minus—he drove to Boston for the on-site interview. It took an hour, and it wasn't an unpleasant experience, even though the guy who interviewed him asked some direct questions.

Valentine’s Inc. had a strict no-sex policy on their rent-a-date services, which made total sense from a legal point of view. And with Hagen's somewhat unusual request, it was understandable they wanted to make sure it wasn't about sex. He had assured them it wasn't, which was true. Hopefully, it would grow into more over time, but he needed to build up enough trust first.

He received a message as soon as his background check had cleared, and then he was accepted into the app. Within days, he had three reactions. One he dismissed because the guy lived too far away. That would never work, what with practicing and all. The other two both looked promising, and Hagen set up a meeting with both of them on the same day. He figured they had best meet on neutral ground first, but also in a spot where they had some privacy to talk. He opted for the busy, privately owned coffee shop on Main Street that served not only fantastic Italian coffee, but a wide variety of delicious pastries as well.

The meeting with the first potential boy ended after ten minutes with both of them admitting there was zero chemistry between them. Hagen spent the time reading, seated all the way in the back. He was sipping his second espresso, when he saw Baxter walking in. He almost choked on the little bit of fluid and quickly swallowed it down. What the hell was Baxter doing here? That would get awkward when his date showed up.

He'd avoided him outside of class all week, staying away from the bookstore, and in class, he’d pretended he wasn't there. It had worked to a certain degree, but at night, in his dreams, Baxter was still very much present. Hopefully, that would change once he'd found a boy to train. But first, he needed Baxter to get out of the coffee shop before his date showed up.

Then Baxter started making his way to the back of the coffee shop, and their eyes met. They must have realized it at the same time, as Hagen saw the utter shock he felt inside reflected on Baxter's face. Oh fuck it all to hell and back. Baxter was his date.