I talk to and see him more than I do Aida, and we live together. If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve talked to Cash more in the last few months than I’ve talked to my wife in years. I still feel extremely guilty about cheating on her, but when I’m around him, I lose my sense to care. It’ll be better once we’re divorced, I’m sure. I bring my attention back to my phone, a smile plastered on my face while I read his messages.

Cash: Your girl, Whitney Houston, was playing at Target today. Should’ve been there.

Cash: I finished grading Professor Dillion’s class papers. Fuck that whole class.

The school still doesn’t have a replacement for Professor Dillion, so we’re stuck grading her papers this semester too. I’m going to miss having him as my aide in the fall. Even if we weren’t sleeping together, I’d still miss having his help in class. He’s smart as hell, and a total natural at teaching. He’s made my job much easier this year.

Me: You’re never going to let me live that song down, are you?

Cash: Hell no, teach. Not a chance.

Me: What’re you doing, Bambi?

Cash: The frat’s having a party, so I’m partying.

Cash: You?

Me: Just finished grading papers.

Cash: BORING.

Me: Can I see you? For a little bit?

Cash: You’ll have to come to the frat. I can’t drive. But yes.

Me: Now an okay time?

Cash: Sure.

Nerves rush through me like a tidal wave. Now that I’ve talked to Aida, and us splitting up is out there, things with him feel immediately different. Like what I thought could never be, can maybe be after all.

Grabbing my keys and wallet, I head to the garage, and opt to take the bike tonight. It’s a clear night, not too cold, and the open road on a motorcycle sounds amazing. The ride over doesn’t take too long, and I don’t spend much time going over what I may want to tell him. Once I park a little down the street from his house, making sure no one sees me, I pull out my phone and let him know I’ve arrived.

Not even five minutes later, he’s strolling over to where I’m standing. My throat feels coated in chalk as I take him in. He’s such a beautiful fucking man, and I want him to be all mine. Does he want that too?

“Hey, teach,” he drawls, stopping right in front of me. His eyes are glazed, giving away the alcohol he’s consumed tonight. “Looking sexy on that bike.”

“Is that right?” I chuckle.