My Professor's Secret

47 |

"You did at least tell him I wasn't taking advantage of you though, right?" I know I don't have to say much because my silence says all that my words couldn't. I hadn't corrected him on that fact because I assumed doing so was worse, because then I'd have to own up to our illicit relationship, but hearing the words come from Trevor's mouth instead of Wyatt's made the situation seem even more detrimental. "So you're telling me he thinks that we were doing what we were doing without your consent?"

All I can manage is a nod. Fuck. What the hell was I thinking? Of course, the plan was to make that clear to Wyatt, but how could I when I'd stooped to the lowest level of trust? Cheating on someone who genuinely cared about me and made sure to tell me not only verbally but with his actions. My stomach is in knots once again and pacing the floor only adds to the syncopation of my breathing and the thumping in my chest so I take a seat on the bench, never once breaking eye contact with him.

All the judgment I'd put on Meghan about her infidelity when low and behold, I wasn't exempt from it myself. Humiliation was the least of my emotions. Trevor had to understand my reasoning for not acting immediately. Admitting my and Trevor's endeavors were reciprocal would only amplify Wyatt's desire to go to the dean. Or at least that is what I assumed and taking that chance was a risk in itself. There was no way out of this without some kind of repercussions.

"We should be heading back," He says, making his way toward the exit.

He doesn't even attempt to look back in my direction before he slips from the dressing room and down the corridor. If things weren't ruined before, they were now. I give myself three minutes after Trevor left to make my way out and down the corridor to the auditorium as well. My brother, Trinity, and Lorelei remained in the same spot I'd left them in, scanning the crowd of people in search of me. Lorelei catches the first glance at me. She gives me a big smile, then waves me over in their direction.

Judging by the look on her face, leaving my dad behind seemed to show in her features the closer I approached her. Up close her, eyes were bloodshot and puffy like she'd spent hours on hours crying and wiping tears away. Trinity shockingly looked amused to see me, so much so that I caught the subtle tug of her lips that formed a small smile. My brother couldn't have been the least bit unamused as his eyes aimlessly roamed the theater. It was apparent I hadn't been the one he was searching for.

"You did great up there," Lorelei chimes, breaking me from my stare at my brother. "Don't tell anyone, but I went against the rules and recorded a few of your parts. I know your father would have loved to see how talented you are on stage."

Even hours away from the dread of the hospital room, my dad was still a prevalent thing in her mind, and I couldn't help the joy it brought me knowing he truly had someone looking out for him. We talk a tad longer and she fills me in on more of what the doctors had told her. His care team was still very optimistic about his recovery, but the fact that he hadn't made any more progress in consciousness made them worry, but not enough to abandon hope. Lorelei tells me there's no reason to get worked up about it though. Not when she had spent tons of money getting multiple opinions from well-credited physicians herself.

"What made you decide to come here? It couldn't have been just to watch me perform. Dreycott is a long way from here."

"It was Trinity that encouraged me," she says, nudging Trinity playfully in her side. "Watching you perform was something I wanted to witness regardless. I didn't even know you were interested in performing until your brother told me about it. I bought tickets for the show that night. Not too long ago, I can remember myself on stage. Nonetheless, Trinity said my staying at the hospital was starting to get the better of me. I couldn't deny that she was right, so we're going to stay for a couple of days to recuperate. We've got a hotel in the city."

To my surprise, a wave of relief wept over me at her words. As much time I spent denying a relationship with her, my brother managed to build a connection enough to call and let her know of our well-being. What sense would it make to avoid a relationship with someone who wanted to be involved with our lives, especially when our dad wasn't around to witness it? I want to thank Christian—oddly enough because he didn't have to bring her here for me. I want to thank Trinity for her persuasion—because I know it must've been hard confronting her mother about her stays in the hospital, but the words don't come out. To either of them. Instead, I flash her a similar smile and she gives me a nod in return. Chris—preoccupied with scanning the room to take notice of our cordial conversation—excuses himself once he spots Meghan a few aisles over. She waits until Chris has left to probe questions about who Meghan was to him. All I say is that she's his on-and-off-again girlfriend. If he wanted to let Lorelei in on his business—that was his prerogative.

Before I've even realized it, the lights in the theater begin to dim and the crowd begins to disperse into their seats. After saying my goodbyes, I head back towards the stage and behind the curtain to which I see many of my cast mates changing their clothes for the next scene, but the person I'd genuinely wanted to see was nowhere in sight. There isn't much to the costume change that takes me less than five minutes to swap into before taking my place on the stage.

Everyone else eventually starts making their way to their spots as we prepare to continue the play, but it isn't much later that a disgruntled noise from behind the stage steals the attention of all our cast mates.

"Everyone take your places, I'll see what the hold up is," I say, coming up short on my scan of people who aren't in their designated places—Wyatt and Trevor. I knew being a stage director had extra responsibilities, but I expected Trevor to be the one to deal with them. The back area is only a minute's walk from the stage and the closer I get, the disgruntled noise I'd heard moments ago matriculate into scuffling and obscenities coming from voices that seemed all too familiar. My brother and Trevor are face to face with fists balled tightly and anger clearly on the verge of taking them both over. Once I've finally made it close enough to catch their attention, I notice Wyatt standing off to the side with a devious grin on his lips, though he's the least of my concern.

"Wyatt, go take your place on stage. You were due back two minutes ago," luckily he doesn't object, or take any time trying to challenge my requests, but he does wipe the interest off his face before leaving the three of us. "What the hell are you two doing? Chris, are you serious? The opening night of my play and you decide to pull this shit? I knew I should've never invited you."

My words seem to not faze him because his stance refuses to falter. He doesn't even take the initiative to give me the pleasure of eye contact. Instead, his stare only hardens on Trevor—who was no less to blame than my brother. He was supposed to be the adult. If not that then at least the bigger person. Why was it that nothing could go as it was meant to? Instead of waiting for them to decide to grow up and act as men, I pry them apart at arm's length, standing firmly in the middle. Only this time, I'd been focused on Trevor.

"Do I need to remind you about the importance of this play? Here I am wasting my time babysitting you two idiots while agents wait in the crowd for this play to continue."

"Tell me it's not true, Alex," Chris huffs. His anger became more prevalent as the seconds ticked away. "Tell me this grown-ass man did not put his hands on you?" This was why disclosing the events of our indiscretions was detrimental. For this very reason. And yet, I'm stunned speechless. Christian speculating something was going on between me and Trevor was one thing, but him being fully aware that he and I had sex was different; terrifying. My brother could get angry. I knew as well as anyone, but this wasn't anger. This was rage, pure rage and nothing I'd thought to say seemed sufficient enough to diffuse the tension.

"First of all, that's none of your business. Secondly, why are you doing this here? Now? We can discuss this afterward. Please."