One Night with Professor West

Adara's POV.

On New Year’s Eve, I lost both my first love and my virginity.

I never imagined that the courage I built to wear the sexy red lingerie I’d hidden in my bottom drawer like a secret weapon would end with me sobbing behind a beer keg.

The house throbbed with music and laughter, a blur of sequins, flashing lights, and red Solo cups. I’d never been to a party this big before. Dylan always said I didn’t belong in places like this. But it was New Year’s, and I wanted to try. For once, to feel spontaneous, daring, even sexy.

I scanned the crowd, my heart pounding with excitement, looking for the one person who mattered. A smile tugged at my lips as I imagined the surprise on his face when he saw me. I squeezed through the dancing bodies until I reached the center of the room.

And then I saw him. Dylan. Down on one knee. In a black suit. Holding a ring.

My chest tightened. My stomach flipped. My mind screamed no, but my eyes wouldn’t lie. There, in front of him, stood a girl, Kesley Parkman. She was glowing with happiness, and he was smiling at her the way he never smiled at me.

"Will you marry me, Kesley Parkman?"

I froze on the spot, staring at Dylan, not knowing what to do. My gaze drifted to Kesley, who extended her hand with a broad smile on her face. "Yes, I will marry you, Dylan."

He slid the ring onto her finger, got up from the floor, then held her by the waist and kissed her softly, earning loud applause from the crowd.

My ears rang, my vision blurred, and I struggled to breathe.

I needed to get away before anyone recognized me. I couldn’t bear the humiliation, I thought to myself.

Just then, someone nearby muttered, “Oh shit.”

Then he saw me.

Dylan looked up and blinked as if he didn’t recognize me.

“So, you followed me down here, Adara?” He smirked and stepped away from Kesley, then threw his arms out theatrically.

“Well, it’s a good thing, you saved me the stress of telling you myself.”

I bit my lip bitterly, trying to restrain myself from voicing my frustration as I clutched my dress tightly.

“How could you do this, Dylan? How…” My mouth betrayed me, and I paused abruptly as a lump formed in my throat.

Dylan chuckled, a broad, cruel smile spreading across his face.

“You seriously thought I was going to waste my time babysitting a boring nerd like you? Jesus, Adara. Grow up. I was just playing with you, nothing serious. My heart’s with Kesley, the woman I’m marrying.”

The words hit me like a punch. My chest tightened, breath catching in my throat. A wave of shame and heartbreak crashed over me, burning behind my eyes.

The music kept pounding around us, but I was drowning in the silence that followed his words.

Dylan rolled his eyes and sneered, “You can’t even party right, can you? Go back to your books, babe. And your wretched family drama. You’re just too boring for me.”

My cheeks flamed. The crowd’s laughter swelled, mocking, echoing off the walls. My hands trembled as I gripped the sides of my dress, feeling smaller with every jeer.

I swallowed hard, fighting the sting of tears that blurred my vision. How could he be so cold? So heartless? And he dared to insult me and my family?

I’d had enough. Speaking more would only feed his cruelty.

I turned abruptly, pushing through the laughing crowd, my breath shaky, tears finally slipping free. I ran out through the back door, desperate to escape the humiliation burning into my skin.

The cold enveloped me the moment I stepped onto the porch. Snow had started falling again, tiny flakes catching in my hair. I blinked up at the sky and tried to breathe.

"Don’t cry, Adera. Don’t cry here." I whispered to myself as everything flashed into my mind, but the tears came out anyway. Hot and bitter.

I stumbled down the steps and into the backyard, grabbing a bottle from the counter as I ran. I didn’t even know what it was, but I didn’t care. Desperation made me thirsty for anything that might numb the ache inside. I lifted the bottle to my lips and took a long swig, then another, and another.

The cold liquid burned as it slid down my throat. The stars blurred instantly, and I staggered a little, struggling to keep my balance.

“Hey.”

I heard a voice behind me and turned swiftly in that direction.

A man was leaning against the fence, one hand in the pocket of a black coat, the other holding a glass. His face was partially hidden by the darkness, but the snow lit his hair like silver fire. He looked older, maybe in his late twenties, but there were no lines on his face. Just sharp edges and something strange in his eyes.

I sniffed and wiped my face. “You lost?”

"No," he said. "But you look like you are."

I let out a dry, bitter laugh. "That is obvious, huh?"

He walked towards me with a calm expression, and I turned away from him instantly, looking into the dark space. “You okay?” he asked.

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

I didn’t plan to, but the words spilled out. "My boyfriend cheated on me. Right here. At this party. He proposed to another girl in front of everyone. And he humiliated me."

His eyebrows lifted. “At this party?”

I nodded and turned to him slowly, trying to see him clearly. “In front of everyone, he called me boring. A nerd, and even insulted my family." My grip on the bottle tightened as rage built inside me.

However, the man studied me for a moment. “Well, he’s clearly an idiot.” He blurted out.

A small laugh broke from my chest. "Tell that to the crowd who watched it happen."

"I would," he said. "But I’d rather show you."

My heart paused. "Show me what?"

He stepped closer. My breath hitched. Something about him felt dangerous, yet steady. I should have moved. But I didn’t.

He took the bottle from my hand, set it on the snow-covered table behind us, then offered his hand.

"I’m not going to kiss you because of him," he said. "I’m going to kiss you because you deserve to know what it feels like to be wanted."

I froze. His eyes were fixed on me. Not lustful, but honest.

The rational part of my mind screamed at me to back away, but it was drowned out by a louder voice…. the one fueled by hurt, pain, and the desperate urge to forget everything Dylan had said. The part of me that just wanted to feel desired.

So I acted before I could change my mind.

I reached for him and kissed him on the lips. The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant or sweet. It was fire and frost, slow but intense. My back hit the fence, and his hands slid up my waist, beneath the hem of my dress. That’s when I felt it, the subtle bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers.

A shiver ran through me, not because of the cold, but because of the way he made me feel. It wasn’t just about wanting. It felt real, like proof that someone actually saw me and wanted me. Not because they felt sorry for me, but because they truly desired me.

And for the first time in so long, I felt strong. I felt wanted. I felt alive. I could feel his hot breath fanning my neck as he planted kisses there.

I tilted my head, letting the heat take over me. I wasn’t the quiet girl anymore. I wasn’t a boring nerd. With him, I was just Adara. And when I whispered, “Take me somewhere else,” he didn’t ask why.

He just did.

Adara’s POV.

Sunlight slipped through the half-drawn curtains. I groaned and rolled over, burying my face deep in the pillow. The room smelled faintly of expensive cologne and something spicier, something unfamiliar that made my stomach twist.

For a moment, I just lay there, too tired and numb to move or even think. I wanted to pretend the morning would pass me by. But then, suddenly, it all hit me like a wave.

Last night.

I whispered the words, my heart tightening as the memories rushed back, his mouth on mine, his voice low in my ear, the way his hands moved over me, like he knew parts of me I didn’t even understand.

Even though the memory was soft and sweet, it left a burning ache inside me. I clenched the sheet tighter, feeling exposed and raw.

My throat closed up, and I whispered, “No... no...” I covered my ears, as if I could shut out the truth pounding in my head.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, hot, helpless tears. I sat up quickly, the sheet slipped off my chest, and the sudden exposure only made it worse. I was naked, still sore, still marked by something I couldn’t take back.

I had lost my virginity to a stranger. A man I barely knew. A man who disappeared without a word the moment morning came.

I hated how much it hurt. How confused I felt. Maybe the alcohol made me feel something I wasn’t ready for, something real, even if it was just a lie my heart wanted to believe.

But deep down, I blamed myself. I blamed Dylan, too, for breaking me so badly that I drank when I never used to. I blamed my own weakness for letting this happen.

I wrapped the sheet tight around me like a shield, hugging my knees close, but nothing could stop the ache inside, in my chest, in my thighs, in the parts of me I had promised to protect.

“No matter what, I will never forgive him,” I whispered bitterly. Not Dylan. Not the stranger. Not myself.

After a long moment, I forced myself up. My heart pounded as I looked around the strange, empty room. It was cold and clean. Gray walls, black bedding. A desk with a single jacket hanging over the chair like a ghost.

My eyes landed on my phone, which was on the nightstand. I picked it up immediately and tapped it on. Ten missed calls from Layla, my best friend. Three from Mom, and a blurry selfie of me in someone’s hallway.

I groaned, biting my lip. I didn’t want to answer any of them. I just wanted to disappear.

I slid out of bed quietly, tiptoeing to gather my scattered clothes.

My black heels were tucked under the chair, and my dress lay half-draped across the radiator. The red lace lingerie I wore to impress Dylan was balled up near the foot of the bed. I grabbed it without looking and shoved it into my purse.

I paused for a moment, glancing around again, hoping to at least see him, but there was no sign of him.

“Good,” I muttered. I didn’t want the awkward, heavy silence that follows a one-night disaster anyway. I just wanted to go home, pretend none of it happened, and pray to every god in existence that I’d never see him again.

I grabbed my heels and slipped out through the front door barefoot. The morning sun stung my eyes, and I winced, pulling my coat tighter around me as I hurried down the street. The snow had stopped, but the cold wind bit at my skin. My toes were numb, but my mind felt even colder.

The city buzzed with life, but I felt out of place, like I’d slipped into someone else’s body. Every passing car, every bundled-up stranger felt like they were staring, judging. A girl with smeared mascara and shame tucked deep inside her purse.

I caught my reflection in a dark shop window and barely recognized myself. My hair was wild, my lips swollen, and my eyes hollow. I hugged myself tighter, not just from the cold, but from the heavy weight of regret threatening to pull me under. I wasn’t this girl. I wasn’t reckless, needy, or desperate for a stranger’s warmth. And yet, I had been.

By the time I reached campus, the rush of adrenaline had faded. The shame settled over me like a heavy cloak. I barely remembered his name. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I’d heard it at all.

“Great, Adara. Real maturity. What a comeback moment,” my mind scolded sharply, and I shook my head vividly. However, I didn’t regret it. I only wish it hadn’t been my first. Wished I hadn’t given it away to someone whose last name I didn’t even know.

I took the hottest shower I’d ever had, scrubbing every inch of him off my skin, though his voice still echoed in my mind. I promised myself it was over. No more parties. No more heartbreaks. From now on, school was my priority. I needed to reclaim my routine; it is a new year, after all.

However, that fragile hope shattered two days later.

“Adara?” Layla nudged me in the hallway outside the lecture hall. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I lied, forcing a tired smile. “Just tired.”

We filed into the large auditorium-style room for the first class of the semester. Modern Political Thought. The one I’d been most excited about. I even bought the textbook early.

I pulled out my notebook, holding my pen with a broad smile. Suddenly, the door at the front opened, and my smile faltered instantly.

There he was. The stranger from that night.

He wore a charcoal blazer tailored perfectly to his frame and a watch that probably cost more than my rent. My mouth went dry, I couldn't even blink. My heart sank as I continued to watch him. He set his leather bag on the podium and glanced at the class calmly.

“Good morning,” he said. That voice, I could never forget it. “I’m Professor West. I’ll be taking over this course for the semester.”

Layla whispered something I didn’t hear. My ears were ringing. My heart was beating faster than expected. ''No. No, no, no. He...he can’t be my professor.''

West looked over the room slowly, and for a moment, I thought maybe, just maybe, he didn’t recognize me. Maybe I was just another face to him. But then his gaze locked onto mine, and one corner of his mouth twitched up, so faintly no one else would have noticed, but I did.

I froze, my fingers tightening around the pen, while my knuckles turned white as he straightened a sheet of paper on the podium like he had all the time in the world. Then, slowly, deliberately, he walked down the aisle toward my row.

My body trembled. I ducked behind Layla’s shoulder, trying to disappear.

“Is he coming for me?” I whispered to myself, my heart pounding like a drum.

Then, standing beside me, “No need to hide, Adara,” he said, just loud enough for me to hear. “I believe we met before.”