"Jenna!?" Whitney shouts my name again as I hide Michael beneath a pile of dirty laundry. "Jenna!?" I pretend I'm sorting clothes when she finally appears in the doorway of my utility room. "Jenna, didn't you hear me shouting your name?"
"Of course I did," I smile, nervously, and she just stares at me. "but I knew you'd find me. Whit, you know your way around this place."
Michael moves under the clothes and I stand in front of it, hoping Whitney didn't see.
"I do, but---"
"What's up?" I interrupt with a smile. "I thought you weren't coming by until later."
Whitney frowns at me then at the pile of moving clothes behind my legs.
Stop moving, dammit, Michael!
"Uhhh," Whitney begins still eyeing the clothes behind me. "I just by came to bring you yours and Brad's tickets for the gallery opening tonight."
"That's tonight?"
"Yeah, Jen," Whitney sighs, exasperated. "don't tell me you've forgotten? I've only been telling you about it for the past two weeks."
"I didn't forget, Whitney. I just--" Not caring to dig the hole any deeper, I change the subject while rubbing my forehead. "Thanks for bringing them to me. Just put them on that shelf."
Whitney arches a brow at my odd request then places the tickets on the detergent shelf.
"What is wrong with you, Jen?" She asks, frowning. "You seem nervous. Jumpy even."
"Nothing's wrong." I smile to save face. "What? I can't do my laundry?"
"Oh, you can. You just seem a little jumpy that's all." She reiterates.
"Oh, girl, I am fine. F-I-N-E!" I sing then smile for kicks. "I'm fine, Whitney!"
"Oooookay." Whitney's eyes widen before she goes on. "So, umm, when are you coming back to class in person, Jen? Sex Ed, that is. I'm getting tired of taking notes, girl."
"I'm coming back soon, Whit." I mumble, folding a blouse while avoiding eye contact.
"Good. I mean everyone has mostly forgotten about that day, Jen. It was over a month ago."
"I know, Whitney," I swallow, nodding. "but I'm not so sure I want to see that jackass of a professor. And I might pop Tia in her mouth the next time I see her."
The pile of clothes move again and Whitney frowns before looking at me.
"You know, I hear he's firing Tia as his assistant. You may not have to worry about her anymore."
My jaw drops then I fix my mouth for sarcasm. "What? He's firing her now? Why ever would he do that?"
Like I give a damn.
The sex must not be good. Hell, I know she ain't as good as me.
"Yeah, I don't know why," Whitney shrugs. "but I heard it through the grapevine."
"Well, I can't say I'm not happy that bitch is out of a job."
"At least your hate for each other is mutual."
"I guess." I mumble.
"Jen," Whitney begins in a casual tone. "you have to come to class tomorrow. It really has been more pleasant. The Professor's not even as cold as he was before. He won't bother you. I'm quite sure of it."
I shrug, folding a pair of pants now. "I don't know, Whit. I'll think about it."
Whitney stares at the moving pile of clothes again.
Stop moving, Michael, dammit!
"Jenna, can you answer me this?"
"Anything."
"It's about you and Professor Jackson."
"What about us?" I frown.
"Well, Tia told me, when we were working on our project, that she thought you and him had something going on. Did you? I mean that would explain you acting a pure ass in class that day. I asked you if you two fucked but you stayed close-mouthed. Did you two have something going on?"
I scoff, trying to save face once again. "Whitney, you're taking some stranger's assumption over your best friend's words?"
"My best friend hasn't said a word," Whitney reminds me as she looks at the clothes again. "and laundry usually doesn't move or wear expensive Professor Jackson-esque Italian shoes."
I look back at the pile of laundry and hiss an obscenity under my breath.
Michael's feet are showing.
Dammit.
When I look back to the doorway, Whitney's gone.
"Don't fucking move." I hiss to the pile of laundry as I walk out of the utility room.
"Whitney," I call, walking into the living room behind her. "it's not what you think. He was just--"
"Jenna," Whitney holds up her hand as she stops at the door. "it's not what I think? You have our professor hiding under your dirty clothes, and it's not what I think? Do you know what Brad is going to do when he finds out about you and him? You're with our Professor, Jenna!? How long has this been going on?" I sigh heavily as Whitney stares at me. "How long?!"
"I'm not with him, Whitney." I mumble. "We ended what we had that day I blew up in his class. Michael and I are over."
"Then why is he underneath your laundry?" She questions with an arched eyebrow. "While your boyfriend's out getting snacks."
"Brad is not my boyfriend." I snap and Whitney steps back.
"Ohhh, but does he know that?"
"Look, Whit, I was just hiding Michael away from you, because I didn't want you jumping to the conclusions you are right now. He only came by to give me some school work."
"Hiding him made you look guilty, Jenna. If I had just walked in and seen him, I wouldn't have thought a thing. You made it look suspect. Although I've suspected it all along."
"What the Professor and I had is over, Whitney." I reiterate.
"Did you have sex with him?"
I breathe in then sigh heavily before licking my lips and looking away.
"Oh my gosh," She laughs from shock. "you so boned him. I knew somebody had cracked your back, Jen."
"Yeah, we fucked, Whitney, and it was fan-fucking-tabulous! I enjoyed every second and every cum he gave me!" I confess without remorse. "So what are you going to do now, Whitney? Yell and berate me for having an illicit affair with my professor for two days?!"
"No, Jen," Whitney sighs, shaking her head. "you're my best friend. I have nothing to say on this. It's your life. Why would you even think you'd have to keep something like this away from me? Have I ever judged you before?"
"No." I murmur and she goes on.
"Exactly. Girl, you know I love you and you know all I want is for you to be happy. If getting broke off by Professor Jackson has made you happy then more happiness for ya."
I chuckle. "I'm happy without it too, Whit."
"I don't think so." She calls my bluff. "Jenna, you've been miserable since that day you blew up on him in class. I wasn't going to say anything until you wanted to talk about it."
"I haven't been miserable, Whitney." I reject her assumption. "I've just been swamped with school work and regular work."
"No, you've been missing Professor Jackson. You really like him, don't you, Jen?"
"Whit, can we talk about this later?" I ask as Michael appears behind me.
I know he's behind me because I can feel him.
"Okay," She hugs me as she stares at Michael. "I'll see you tonight at the gallery. Oh, and Jenna?"
"Yes."
"Your secret is safe with me. I won't tell Brad, or anybody else, but you have to promise to be discreet. I don't want you two getting caught. It would fuck both of your worlds up."
"I'll be discreet, Whit, I promise."
"Good, and you." Whitney points at Michael. "I don't know much about your relationship with her, but she likes you. So, this is a warning... if you break her heart, I'll break your neck. Later, Jenna."
Michael's eyes widen as Whitney walks out of my house.
"Is she serious?" He asks as I close the door behind her.
"Was Diana Ross a Supreme?" I ask back and Michael frowns.
I grab my blanket from the floor and throw it on the couch.
Michael watches me in silence then finally asks. "So how have you been lately?"
"I've been okay." I nod, placing my hands on my hips. "How are you?"
"Missing you."
I scoff, turning my back to him. "Michael, don't start this."
"Jenna," He sighs, walking up behind me. "I'm not starting anything. I do miss you."
"And?"
"I just want to know why you don't believe me? I heard you and Whitney talking. She just said you like me too. If we both like each other why did you end our good thing?"
I turn around to face him and arch an eyebrow. "What can I say? Your reputation precedes you, sir, and so does Tia's."
"Jenna, I did not have sex with her." Michael declares, seriously.
"You seem to be stuck on that."
"Because it's the truth."
"Okay, you didn't fuck her. What did you do then?" I ask, folding my arms.
Michael swallows the lump in his throat and looks away from my stare.
"Michael?" I urge. "What did you do with her?"
"She came on to me pretty strong, Jenna." He begins then clears his throat. "She tried to have sex with me, that day, but I said no."
"How long had I been gone when she asked?" I ask as Michael stands silently. "How long, Michael?"
"I don't know, Jenna, I guess ten minute or so. Why?"
"So what did you do after you "turned her down"? I know you did something, Michael."
"Nothing." Michael shrugs, but I can tell he's lying. "We did nothing."
"You did nothing?" I squint.
"Nothing."
"Michael," I clear my throat. "I'd advise you to tell me the truth if you ever want another chance with me."
Let's see how much he truly cares.
Michael rubs his face then sighs heavily. "Okay, I'll tell you the truth, Jenna."
"Good choice. Now what did you do with her, Michael?"
"We kissed." He confesses as he stares into my eyes apologetically. "All we did was kiss, Jenna. I swear that's all we did. Her top was already unbuttoned because she unbuttoned it. I didn't touch her body."
Minutes pass without either of us saying a word.
I'm trying to process this confession.
He really kissed her?
And after he'd kissed me?
"Jenna, please say something. Say--"
"You kissed her, Michael?" I ask, quietly. "You kissed her?"
"Actually, she kissed me and I pushed her away."
"Why?"
"Because all I want is you."
"But you'll take other's kisses when needed?"
Michael glares at me. "Don't you get it, woman? I didn't have sex with her and I could have. She's dropped to her knees for me on more than one occasion and I've walked away every single time. Be proud of my restraint, Miss Toussaint. I don't turn down sex very often."
"How deep do you want to dig this fucking hole, Michael?" I hiss and he sighs, knowing he shouldn't have made that declaration. "The fact of the matter is that you kissed that bitch after you piled it high with me."
"Every word I've said to you has been the truth, Jenna!" Michael shoots back. "However, you should be worried about the hole you've dug with me."
"What fucking hole? I'm the only one who deserves to be mad here, Michael."
"Oh, no, you're not, baby." Michael chuckles to suppress anger. "I saw you hugging Brad after you left my office that day. You ran to him instead of being a big girl and talking to me about our situation. And to top it off, now you're his girlfriend?"
"I'm not his girlfriend." I mumble.
"Yeah, right," Michael rolls his eyes. "I've seen you around campus all hugged up and shit. Every time I see you two together, him with his hands around your waist, I want to chew through fucking bricks."
"How do you think it makes me feel to see Tia around you?" I shoot back, hoping to even up things.
"It's not the same, Jenna, because you and Brad are together. I'm not with Tia!"
I bite my bottom lip, because I don't have anything to say back to that.
He's right.
It's not the same.
Michael takes in a deep breath then stares at me for a second.
"What?" I ask.
"You frustrate me and to see you with him--" He breathes in sharply. "Jenna, have you... have you with Brad?"
"Have I what?" I frown, giving him the once over.
"Have you had sex with Brad, Miss Toussaint?" Michael asks outright.
"No," I answer fast and truthfully. "because unlike you, Professor Jackson, I don't have to fuck everyone who wants to fuck me."
"Awww, why won't you have sex with him?" He smiles at the news. "I mean he is your boyfriend, Miss Toussaint."
"He's not my boyfriend, Professor Jackson," I smirk then go for the jugular just for his reaction. "but he could be very soon." Michael's smile vanishes and I smirk more at him. "Where's the cocky smile, Professor?"
"So you have chosen him over me?" Michael asks and hurt is drowning his voice now. His shift in mood throws me off and causes my emotions to flood back. "You've chosen him over me, Jenna."
"Only because you've made me, Michael." I sniffle as he moves closer to me.
Michael pulls me against his long body and we meld.
I feel the warmth of his minty breath on my lips and I shiver as the electricity between us surges again.
"I didn't make you, Jenna. You chose that path yourself. Although you promised me you wouldn't."
He leans forward to kiss me, and I'm willing to comply, but the front door opens.
I gasp, pushing him away quickly, when Brad appears in the doorway.
"Honey, I have--" Brad speaks as he walks into my house. He stops speaking when his eyes fall on Michael. "What the--Professor Jackson, what are you doing here?"
Michael and I look at each other as Brad looks at us.