Stalked by my Professor Novel

Chapter 25 I'm glaring so hard at Haven as I watch her run inside the GAZ sorority house that I don't see the police cruiser until I exit the Uber outside my frat. When I turn to climb back into the car, the Uber driver's already pulling off, leaving me stranded. "Fuck." Rain plasters my hair over my forehead, and I swipe it out of my eyes with a shaking hand as I give the cruiser a nervous scan. I glance around, and seriously consider pulling a runner. But where the fuck would I go, right? Anyway, if someone was going to arrest me, they'd have shown up at Rooke's house last night.

Both Kruger and iPhone knew where I was. Unless they'd decided not to snitch. Fuck this. Ezra's not dead, just beat up. They won't send me to prison for punching my brother. Will they? I'm soaked by the time I convince myself to go through Nu Epsilon Xi's front door. Soon as I close the door behind me, a shiver goes through me at the strange hush. Usually, this place is noisy as fuck. When I hear gunfire from the TV room, I relax a little. Everyone's probably watching a movie in there. Perfect.

I can sneak up to my room, lock the door, and pretend I never⁠- "There he is!" I swing to face the archway leading into the kitchen, and my stomach flips over when I see a uniformed police officer standing by the counter. "That's Kai." Austin is sitting on one of the stools, iPhone standing a few feet away. He'd been busy on his phone-obviously-but looks up when Austin says my name. The officer straightens a little when our eyes lock. "Kai Jordan? May I speak with you, please?" Jesus, I don't know what's more terrifying. The calm way he says my name, or how polite he sounds.

I was expecting to see Sheriff Mac. She comes round here at least once a month to cuss us out for raising hell on campus, then has a beer with us and watches a few minutes of whatever game's on before she fucks off again. This guy? Complete stranger. Now I wish I'd taken my chances and run. I drag my fingers through my hair. "Okay with you if I can catch a shower first?" My muscles are aching from the comedown, skin hypersensitive, throat raw from...Fuck, can't even think about that without gagging. And some mean fuck is taking a sledgehammer to my temples in rhythm with my too-fast pulse.

The officer smiles politely, like he totally fails to notice how wrecked I am. "This'll only take a minute." He waves toward the kitchen stool where Austin's lanky frame is slouched. "We're done here," he says, cocking his head. Austin tucks a red curl behind his ear before tightening his arms over his chest again. "I'll be in touch if I have any further questions," the officer adds more firmly when Austin stays seated. Austin throws iPhone a look, and then struts out of the kitchen, giving me some bombastic fucking side-eye as he passes. Not surprised.

Him and Jace would castrate themselves for Ezra if my brother so much as hinted at it. "You too, Thaddeus." I choke on my own spit. "What the fuck?" iPhone-fucking Thaddeus?-glares at the officer and then throws me a warning look as he rushes out of the kitchen. "Not a word," he mutters, pointing at me with a hard finger. "Not one fucking word." Jesus. My eyes are still wide as I sit reluctantly on the stool still warm from Austin's butt. I immediately stand up again, grimacing. Disgusting.

I cross my arms over my chest too, then remember some bullshit about how that makes you look defensive, so I drop my hands in front of my crotch instead. I really, really wish I wasn't wearing Rooke's clothes right now. His smell is fucking everywhere. I can still taste⁠- My ass thumps down so hard my teeth click. The officer ignores the fact that I'm slowly going insane as he makes notes in a little black pocket book with a stub of pencil. I bet he's gonna lick the tip any second⁠- Called it. "You new here?" I ask when the tension in the room is seconds away from suffocating me.

"Haven't seen you around before." "You know everyone in town, Mr. Jordan?" Polite, but in a weirdly condescending way. Damn. So much for small talk. I give him another scan. He's about Rooke's age, maybe a little older. The crow's feet beside his eyes could be from squinting in the sun, going from his tanned face. He's got some meat on his bones, but it's hard to tell if there's fat or muscle under his clothes. His uniform doesn't look quite right either. "You even from Agony Hollow-" I catch sight of the shiny badge on his chest. "Thatcher?" "Deputy Thatcher," he corrects politely.

He flips his little book closed with a flick of his wrist and gives me a wan smile. "And no, I'm not from around here. Just got in this week. Still looking for a decent cup of coffee, in fact." "Pie Palace." Why not buddy up to this guy? It might just help my cause. "Not just the best coffee, but the best damn pie too." He tilts his head as if making a mental note. "Where you from?" I ask, more than a little desperate to keep this guy from asking any of the questions I can see rattling around in his head.

Judging from his clean-cut look, and that momma's boy haircut, he's ready to go by the book. And I'm not sure what that means for me. Dear God, don't let this end up being something permanent on my record. I just need to keep my nose clean until I graduate, then I'll be outta here. New job in a new city, far away from this festering outhouse in the middle of nowhere. For more chapters visit find•novel.net If this guy's the only thing standing between me and that dazzling future, I'd better make a good impression. "Small town. County's lousy with them." He shrugs.

"You've probably never heard of it." "Try me." He considers this for a moment before changing the subject. "Where were you last night between the hours of ten and midnight, Kai?" "Do I need a lawyer or something?" "You're not under arrest." I almost mutter, "Yet," but thank fuck I bite down on my lip instead. "And?" Thatcher presses. "Your whereabouts?" What would be the point in lying? Tons of people saw me at the Rain Dance. I realize I'm clenching my jaw, and force my teeth apart. "In the woods. At the dance." Thatcher doesn't make a note in his book.

Guess he doesn't have to, because he already knew. "I've got multiple witnesses confirming you assaulted your brother at a party in the woods last night." Fuck. I thought I was winning him over, then he uses a word like 'assaulted'. I flick wet hair out of my face. Rooke's damp clothes itch against my skin, but I force myself not to scratch in case the cop thinks I'm doing drugs and wants to get me tested. MDMA, coke, and weed, bruh. Jesus. I realize I'm gripping my elbows, but it's better than fidgeting. Better than scratching like a fucking junkie.

"Anyone mention the shit that went down before the alleged 'assault'?" I put it in air quotes, because fuck it makes me mad even thinking back to last night. Before I followed Rooke back to his place. Before I let him manipulate me into tying Haven to his bed. Before we both fucked her and⁠- My face is suddenly hot, and I hope to God Thatcher sees it as anger, not guilt. "What 'shit' would this be?" Thatcher asks, putting the word in air quotes too. Dude isn't even sarcastic about it. This guy. "How Ezra put a collar around Ha-" I clear my throat.

"Some girl's neck, dragged her onto the DJ stand, and made her eat dog food in front of everybody?" Thatcher takes his notebook out again and flips it open without breaking eye contact. "This girl have a name?" He licks the tip of his pencil as he waits. "Yeah, uh...I think her name's Haven." "You think?" We stare at each other for a beat. "It's Haven," I mutter. "Last name?" He ducks his head to write, glances up when I'm quiet. "Do you know her last name?" "Um...No.

She's in Rooke's class." And Jesus, of course my voice breaks on his name, because just saying makes my mouth turn bitter and then sweet. "Rooke?" He writes that down too, and fuck, it feels like fire ants are marching up my goddamn spine. It's the intensity in his brown eyes-a kind of fervor that makes me imagine he loves nothing more than untangling a case and following every thread right to the end. No open loops. What the fuck is he going to find out if he tries to unravel everything that happened last night? Haven leaving with Rooke? Me leaving with iPhone and Kruger?

Me ending up at Rooke's? Me and Haven only leaving his place this morning? I've gotta make it easier for him. No need to go digging if I just hand him everything he wants, right? I snap a finger. "Lee. I remember now. It's Haven Lee. She, uh, we used to be friends. Waaay back. Like elementary school." I wave my hand, trying to sound dismissive. Easier said than done when I have hundreds of photos of her on my phone. A phone that's growing warmer in my pocket, like it's about to catch fire. "Ezra's been bullying her," I blurt out.

"She got into college on a grant, and he's convinced she's just eating up school funds. That she doesn't deserve to be here." "That so?" Thatcher isn't taking any more notes. There's a stormy look in his eyes the longer I go on, this slow building up of something that might be annoyance. Am I talking too much? Do I sound guilty? I mean, fuck, he already knows I did it. So why hasn't he arrested me? Or even taken me down to the sheriff's office for questioning? I wanna puke, and it's got nothing to do with the aftertaste of Rooke's cum in my mouth.

I drag a hand over my face, digging my fingers into my jaw on either side. Why the fuck did I have to think about that? It's bad enough these clothes reek of his cologne. That I keep forgetting to breathe through my mouth so I don't smell it. "Is that why you assaulted him?" Thatcher eventually asks. "You were upset with how Ezra was treating her?" I swallow hard as I bundle my hands into a tight ball in my lap. "You sure I don't need a fucking lawyer or something?" I snap. "Do you think you need a lawyer?" Thatcher tilts his head. Fuck, I swear I'm getting an ulcer.

"Look, man, did I hit Ezra? Yes. Should I have hit him so hard? No, but he fucking deserved it." I clench my jaw in case I decide to spill more state secrets than I already have. "Because of how he treated Haven." Thatcher nods a few times. "So you didn't mean to hurt him? Events just spiraled?" "Yeah. I mean...I guess." He points the blunt end of the pencil at me. "Witnesses claim you left the party soon after the alleged assault.

Where did you go?" To my fucking teacher's house, and Jesus, don't I bet you want to know alll about that 'shit.' I roll my lips together, forcing the intrusive thought from my head before I spew into the basin. "You want some coffee, man?" I slip off the stool before he can answer. "We got this new coffee machine start of the semester. This shit's like god-tier." "Thank you, Mr. Jordan, but I'd rather just finish up here so I can get back to the station and fill out my report, if it's all the same to you." So fucking polite, it's setting my teeth on edge. I don't fucking want coffee.

I just want to get the taste of Rooke out of my mouth before I puke since I can't do fuck-all about the feel of his hands in my hair or the way my lips are still tingling. Ripping open the fridge, I root around inside until I find a Red Bull. "From the statements I've taken so far, it's reported you didn't follow your brother to the hospital. Any specific reason?" I crack open the can and drain like half of it before replying. "Went to check on Haven." "The girl whose name you'd forgotten?" My jaw clenches.

"That's the one." "The one your brother has been bullying?" "That's what I said." "Was she?" I blink at him. "Was she what?" "Was she okay?" Jesus, okay? I barely stop myself bursting out laughing. Neither of us were fucking near okay last night. "Yeah. I guess. Traumatized. But, like, she'll survive." I hide my smirk behind another sip of Red Bull. "She's not a wuss." "Did she seek any kind of medical attention?" "What? No. Why would she?" "You said..." Thatcher looks back at his notes.

"Ezra put a collar around her neck and forced her to eat dog food." He looks up again, so innocent, I don't even know what to make of the question. This guy's playing me, isn't he? He didn't make any fucking notes about that shit when I told him. What the hell does he even write in that little fucking book? Or is he just doodling flowers? "She didn't sustain any injuries from this?" Thatcher asks. "No, man. She's fine. But Ezra's a fucking dick, and if I hadn't stopped him, he'd probably have done worse." I can't tell if the cop agrees.

He's got the same politely curious look on his face as always. "So after the altercation with Ezra, you follow the girl you were defending to make sure she's okay, rather than heading to the hospital to check on your own brother?" Jesus, he makes me sound like a fucking sociopath. I turn my back, hoping he can't see how my hand shakes as I drain the last of the sickly sweet Red Bull and toss the can in the kitchen sink from where I'm standing. I burp, and I swear to God I can taste Rooke again. "Got what you need?" I blurt out, not even bothering to tone down the annoyance in my voice.

"I've got to study for tests and shit." "After visiting hours, I assume." "Visiting...?" I trail off when I catch Thatcher's look as I glance over my shoulder. "Yeah, after, of course. Gotta go see how he's doing." My voice has never sounded so hollow. My words so fake. Thatcher looks back at his notes and nods. "Just one more thing." "What?" I try not to sound like a whiny little bitch, but either I'm going to throw up or have a nervous breakdown in the next two seconds, and I don't need witnesses.

"Is this the first time the two of you have come to blows?" "Come to blows?" I parrot, scrunching up my face. Can this guy please make up his fucking mind if he's thirty or fifty? "Ezra has a substantial file at Agony Memorial. Everything from broken bones to cracked ribs. Was that you?" My heart stutters. Thatcher keeps staring at me with that implacably direct gaze that makes me feel like an insect pinned on a board. "No, uh...he...he plays a lot of sports." My voice sounds wooden even to my own ears. Fuck knows how Thatcher buys it. Maybe he doesn't. Jesus.

My knees feel all spongy, like they're about to buckle in. I try to hide it by leaning my hip against the counter. "Of course, yes. Sports." He chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Never really played any myself." "Yeah. Lots of sports." Jesus, why's it so fucking hot in here? I hike up the sleeves of Rooke's hoodie, immediately regret it when Haven's bite mark is on full display, and tug the sleeve down again. Damn. She bit me almost two weeks ago, but it's still red and irritated. I should've gotten a tetanus shot. Will it scar? I kinda want it to. ...you fucked up my head.

I could never stop thinking about you... Thatcher writes something in his notebook, and I seriously hope it's got nothing to do with what's obviously a defensive wound. "Sports such as...?" he asks, like he's pretending he never saw nothing. Hopefully, he thinks these are Ezra's teeth marks, not What's-Her-Face Haven's. "Football. Hockey. Wrestling." I run out of contact sports to list and roll my lips together so I'll stop blabbing. "Yup. That ought to do it," he chuckles. His eyes dart up so quick, he catches me peering at him like I don't know what the fuck I just stepped in.

"That where you get your injuries, or did Ezra get a few shots in last night, too?" I just stare. Because what the fuck? Thatcher touches the side of his neck, then makes a choking motion. "Looks like someone got you good there." ...keep swallowing like that, boy, and I'll have no choice but to feed you my cock... "Sports," I croak out. "Contact...sports." "Damn dangerous if you ask me," Thatcher mutters as he snaps his notebook closed. "Any idea where I could reach this Haven friend?" All I can manage is a shake of my head. "Well, I'll let you get back to your studying.

Thank you for your time, Mr. Jordan." "'Kay." I want nothing more than to race upstairs, but I'm grounded to the spot. Thatcher nods, glances down, adjusts the shiny badge that doesn't need any adjusting, and then smiles up at me. "Must say, it's a beautiful town." "What?" "Agony Hollow." Another smile, this one tinged with sentiment.

"Reminds me of Cinderhart, but in all the good ways, you know?" "That your old place?" There's a faint smile on Thatcher's lips, but he doesn't answer me, instead scanning the kitchen like he's wondering if there's another earth-shattering question he forgot to ask. "Pie Palace, you said?" He nods again. "Think I'll try them on my way back to the station."