“Listen,” he starts. “Branson has told me all about these romance books he reads. This is how this shit happens, my dude. The forbidden teacher-student trip out of town. Somehow, there’s only one room available. They have to share a bed, and bam! They’re fucking before you know it. I know these things.” He crosses his arms over his chest, looking like the cat that got the canary. Smug as fuck, as if he figured it all out.

“Knox, that is fiction, you idiot. That’s not going to happen.”

“Mmhmm, that’s what they all say.” His smugness intensifies as he focuses on something behind me. “Speaking of Professor Hottie…”

“What the fuck are you—?”

“Mr. Finnegan. Mr. DeMarco. What a pleasure.” Stepping up to the table is none other than Stone, or Professor Hottie.

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” I feel my cheeks warm as I try to clean up the soda I sprayed all over the table.

“Picking up lunch before I head back to campus.” His eyes gleam as they regard me. He’s wearing coal gray slacks, tailored perfectly to hug every curve, with a plain white button-down, his sleeves rolled up his forearms, showing off corded, tan skin. He’s carrying an olive-green leather briefcase, my eyes zeroing in on the platinum band around his ring finger.

Married. How could I forget about his beautiful wife, and all the sexy chemistry I witnessed at the bar a few years ago? Lucky woman.

“Right on. Busy afternoon?”

“Not too bad. I have one more class for the day, then I’m finished. Ready for this weekend?” He flashes me a friendly, toothy grin.

“You know it. What time are we leaving?”

“You don’t have classes on Friday, right?”

Out of the corner of my eye, Knox is grinning like a fool, watching this exchange. It doesn’t matter that it’s a perfectly platonic, appropriate conversation. In his head, it’s dirty.

“Nope. No classes,” I respond, lifting my soda to my lips, gulping down a sip. Stone’s gaze dips to my neck for a brief moment before finding my eyes again.

He clears his throat. “We can hit the road around nine, then?”

“Sounds good. My car or yours?”

“We can take mine. I’ll pick you up in the morning at the frat house.”

He knows I’m in the frat? Shut up, of course he does. He’s faculty. “That works.”

“See you then. Have a good afternoon, fellas.” He tips his chin at Knox, smiling, before walking away.

Begrudgingly, I turn my attention to Knox, the smug bastard, who has his chin resting on his fist.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t.”

“Don’t, what? Don’t mention the crackling sexual attraction between the two of you?”

I roll my eyes so hard, I’m surprised they don’t get stuck. “You’re ridiculous. That was a normal conversation.”