Tell Me No Secrets: Secret Baby Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  "Of course," he said, taking the papers from my hand and starting up the first aisle, stopping to place a paper on each desk.

  Students slowly began to trickle into the classroom, each taking their place at a desk. I watched as the room filled with fresh, young minds and it made me think back on my own college years and how excited I had been to be starting my life and getting a great education.

  I knew the importance of having one of those, so I didn't take my responsibility as their teacher lightly. I surveyed the room, sizing up the work that lay before me and it made me proud.

  "Okay, class..." I began, clearing my throat.

  Before I could get out another word, the classroom door swung up and a disheveled girl fell inside, tripping and almost landing on her face at my feet.

  “Woah there.”

  I reached out my hand to help her steady herself.

  "You know, being on time is the first step in making a good impression," I started, trying to gain my composure so that I could get my class started.

  The girl looked up at me.

  I froze.

  So did she.

  She was the girl who had poured her drink on Kate the night before.

  That girl. The nameless one.

  She stood there looking even more beautiful than she had looked last night. Now, instead of the short black dress that she had been wearing, that showed off her small, firm breasts and long legs, she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

  Her long, auburn hair was thrown into a messy bun, wisps of hair framing her round, freckled face. Her green eyes shone like jewels as she looked at me curiously. Her lips looked moist and soft.

  I blinked a few times to try snapping out of the daze that I had been in. I didn’t know how long I had been frozen there staring at her, but it felt like time had stood still.

  "I am... so... sorry..." she said, breathlessly, her chest heaving up and down.

  For a split second, I couldn't help but wonder if she would sound just as breathless after sex. I shook my head to dismiss the thought. I knew that was an inappropriate thought to be having about someone who was apparently my student. I didn't want to start the class off with a raging boner.

  I stood aside and motioned for the girl to take a seat. I looked down at the note cards that I had been holding and the words seemed so meaningless and simple. I knew that there would be no way that I could remotely focus on anything until I learned the girl's name, so I tossed them aside and shuffled through the papers until I found the attendance roster.

  I started calling off names on the list, barely waiting to hear an answer from each student. Really, the only name that I cared to hear at that moment was the name of my newest acquaintance.

  I thanked my lucky stars that I was getting the chance to learn her name. I wished that I could have had the chance to learn it the night before. About six names into calling attendance, I finally learned hers.

  "Isabel..."

  "Izzy," she retorted, sharply.

  "Oh... Izzy... Carson.”

  “That’s me,” she said, lifting a finger gingerly. I smiled.

  Beauty had a name.

  “I guess a lot of you are probably wondering who I am and yet others of you are probably in the wrong class, so let me introduce myself. My name is Dr. Jace Rivers. Welcome to Organic Chemistry."

  I looked up and paused. Sure enough, two students who had been sitting in the back of the room stood up and shuffled out the door sheepishly. They had clearly been confused and come to the wrong class. Laughter rippled through the room as they left.

  "Good luck," I called out after them. "Again, welcome to Organic Chemistry. This fine, young gentleman here is my right hand man and research assistant, Trent W-a-a-n-k-e-r..."

  "And that's pronounced 'Vanhker' for those of you who might get the bright idea to call me anything else," said Trent, squinting at the classroom warningly.

  I knew that the reason that he was so sensitive about his name was because some of the students called him wanker and had drawn penises on all the pictures of him in the school. So, we made it a point to start off each class with clearing up how to pronounce his name, in hopes that the bad nickname would disappear.

  "Thank you," I said to him, shifting my attention back to the class.

  I rattled off more information from the syllabus, items that I had read countless of other times before. This time, though, I just kept looking at Izzy, who stared at me with wide eyed disbelief. I was just as shocked as she was, but I knew that I had to manage to maintain my composure.

  After giving the basic introductions, I turned on the overhead projector and cued up a film.

  "This film is one that you want to make sure that you take good notes about, because there will be a pop quiz," I said, waiting until the collective groan from the class died down. "Yeah, I know. Who uses the 'q' word on the first day? But I learned early on in my teaching career that it’s the only thing that makes some of you pay attention. It's a film on the advances and applications of organic chemistry, so that you get a better picture of what this class is all about and what meaning it will have for you moving forward."

  The film came to life and I turned on the overhead lights so that the students could see it better. I sat at my desk and turned on my personal laptop. I tried to appear aloof as I stared at the screen, but I was curious to see what I could learn about Izzy in our databases.

  I must admit that I was mildly disappointed to find out what she was only 19-years-old, but I was impressed by what I saw. She had graduated high school with high honors and came with all sorts of recommendations.

  I had to do a double take at her age because she had the academic record of a much older student. That was something that you didn't see very often.

  As a matter of fact, she reminded me of me. I had broken so many academic records that a local reporter actually wrote an article about me. I graduated high school early and went to college early.

  It was an equally exciting and frightening experience because, even though I was advanced academically and fairly mature for my age, being around students who were older than I was by several years made me feel left out and lost in some ways. Fortunately, I just threw myself into my studies and excelled even more, which eventually landed me a position teaching at the university.

  If it weren't for Dr. Sanchez, a physics professor who retired last year, taking me under his wing, I might have gotten lost in the shuffle. I was very grateful to have known him.

  Thinking back on my formative college years gave me an amazing idea: Izzy might need a mentor. And who better to reach out and lend a helping hand than someone who had been where she was?

  I motioned with my hand toward Trent, who had found a seat in the front row and was watching the video as if he hadn't already seen it a million times.

  "Yeah," he whispered, his face inches away from mine. He was whispering so as not to disturb the students watching the movie.

  I leaned forward to glance over his shoulder at Izzy. Her eyes were fixed on the screen while she feverishly took notes. I found myself in awe of her yet again, at the level of dedication and focus that she was already showing, when class was just getting started.

  I plucked a packet of papers out of one of the desk drawers and inched it across my desk toward Trent. I cupped my mouth and lowered my voice to a hushed whisper so that no one but Trent could hear what I was saying.

  "Do me a favor and give this application to Ms. Carson," I instructed him.

  "Who?" Trent asked a little too loudly, making a few heads turn in our direction. He scratched his head as he tried to figure out who I was talking about.

  I pointed over to where Izzy was sitting. Trent nodded and mouthed "okay", ducking down as he stepped in front of the projector. Then he walked over to the desk where Izzy sat, her eyes bouncing back and forth from the screen to her note pad, much like a tennis ball in a serious match.

  She paused for
a moment when Trent gave her the application. She pulled the paper closer to her face, as if to get a better view in the dim light. She scanned the paper quickly, an inquisitive look on her face, like she was trying to understand what it was all about.

  All of a sudden, her eyes snapped up and she stared directly at me. I stared right back. We sat there for a few minutes, our eyes locked on each other, like we were having a silent conversation across the room.

  I knew that I shouldn't have been holding her gaze for so long, because it might draw unusual attention to us, but, just like last night in the club, I was struggling to look away. There was something about her that was so familiar, so intriguing, that I wanted to just keep staring at her and taking in her beauty.

  She started to softly bite her lip. I could feel the blood begin to rush to my head. She looked away and didn't look back, almost like she was having the same thought that I had been having: she knew that we shouldn't be staring at each other but was having a hard time doing much else.

  But I hoped that she was considering applying for the internship so that I could help mentor her. It would give us all the reason in the world to be together and get to know each other better. I couldn’t help it – that was all I wanted to do.

  The film ended, and Trent turned on the lights, signalling that it was my turn to finish up the class and make my final remarks. I looked toward Izzy, took a deep breath, and stood in front of the class.

  "I am excited to be starting a new journey with all of you and want you to know that I have an open door policy for anyone who might have questions or might want some extra help with course material. I want you all to know that I am here to help you become successful, however I can. Are there any questions?"

  I stopped talking and looked out over the room to see if any hands would raise. Part of me wished that Izzy would ask a question and give me a chance to speak with her, to look at her some more, without making it weird. Instead, she sat there looking over the internship application that I had given her.

  The bell rang, and the students moved to leave the classroom.

  "Don't forget that you'll have a pop quiz this week on the film," announced Trent, walking over and writing the reminder up on the white board.

  Izzy took her time gathering her notes and her bag. I could sense her watching me out of the corner of her eye. I wanted to call her over to talk to her about the internship application and to get an idea if she was going to apply. But I wanted to come off nonchalant when I talked to her.

  I still was trying to contain my excitement. When I finally did talk to her, I wanted to make sure that I was in full control of my thoughts and emotions, not staring and drooling all over myself like a lovesick puppy. I wanted to find a way to connect with her, not have her running away in the opposite direction.

  I stayed at my desk, pretending to be engrossed in something on my computer screen until Izzy had left the classroom and I was sure she was on her way to her next class. Only then could I relax a bit, and let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I had been holding in.

  That girl. What the fuck is she doing to me?

  Chapter 4 - Izzy

  My phone buzzed for the hundredth time since I had stepped foot into the classroom. I already knew who it was without even looking at the caller ID. I pulled out my phone and laughed as I confirmed the name that I knew was going to be on the screen.

  Mom.

  I tried picking up, but the call was already going to voicemail before I had the chance to answer. I went to my call log, found my mother's number, and pressed send.

  I inhaled sharply, trying to brace myself for the anxiety-ridden conversation that I knew that I was about to have. But I figured that it would be better to go ahead and get the conversation over with before she sent a search team out looking for me.

  "Hi, Mom," I said, trying to sound as upbeat as possible.

  "Are you okay, sweetie? Why weren't you answering my calls? Did something happen? Maybe you should come home for a while..."

  I rolled my eyes, trying not to be completely irritated with my overbearing and overprotective mother.

  "Mom, I'm fine! I haven't been raped, mugged, or beaten yet. I didn't answer my phone because I was doing the unthinkable: sitting in class, actually paying attention to my teacher. Big shocker. I know."

  "Well, I'm sorry that I care so much," said my mother, sulking over the phone.

  Hearing her voice sounding so sad and disappointed made me feel a little bad for being so sarcastic with her. The truth was that her breathing down my neck was irritating, but I tried to just put up with it because I knew that her worry came from a place of love.

  I just wished that there was a way that I could get them to understand that while I really did appreciate all the love that she and my dad gave me, I was growing more and more tired of being stifled. I was in college, after all. Now was my chance to grow my wings and fly.

  "I love you, Mom," I said. "I'll call you later. I'm about to head into my next class."

  We got off the phone and I jammed my phone into a pocket of my bag. I had two more classes to get through, and they passed by pretty uneventfully.

  I tried to stay focused on what I was supposed to be learning, instead of on the fact that super hot guy from the club was my new professor. Or else I would never be able to pass my classes. Finally, I made my way back to my dorm room.

  As soon as I walked into my room after my classes were done, however, I threw my bag in the corner and landed face first on my bed. I was still exhausted from all the events from the night before and now I had time to sit and process everything that had just happened.

  I couldn’t believe that the guy from the club last night was my professor. I remembered the packet that I had gotten from his class and I was really curious to look more into it and see what it was all about.

  I had tried to look it over during the class, but I was too busy taking notes on everything else to really focus. Not to mention the fact that, on top of having an incredible amount of pressure to do well so that I could get good grades already, now I had the added burden of having to manage not to cream my pants just sitting in class while I watched him stand in front of me like the fine specimen that he was.

  Now, I saw what it was all about. An internship. It would let me get one-on-one hands-on field training, something that could prove to be invaluable depending on what field I wanted to go into. But, if nothing else, it would be a great way to get some extra credits.

  The internship offered two credits and would only be a three-hour weekly time commitment from me. I thought about my already packed semester and wondered if taking on this internship wouldn’t be biting off more than I could chew.

  On one hand, this would look amazing on my resume. With my being so young already, there was already a bias. But, coming with both knowledge and experience would put me light years ahead of many other candidates that might be up for an opportunity. The thought of what an opportunity like this could do to fast track my life made me want to jump for joy and do a little happy dance.

  The only thing was that it would mean spending a lot of time with Dr. Rivers. Considering how we met, spending more time with him could cause more crazy situations. First, I poured my drink on his girlfriend or wife. Then, I almost fell on him when showing up late for the first day of his class. Then, I stalk him by means of an internship?

  But he was the one who gave me the information about the internship, so it could hardly count as me stalking him. He was so hot, though. I would have to find a way to do the internship and not just stare at him dreamily, sighing like a smitten teenager.

  Class had only been in session one day and on the very first day, I kept wondering what he looked like with his shirt off for most of the class. I actually had to start taking notes because I kept imagining him slow grinding on top of his desk like he was a male stripper. I wondered what his butt felt like. I wondered what his cock felt like…

&nbs
p; Stop that, Izzy, I thought to myself.

  Besides the fact that he was my professor for a class that I needed to well in, he also obviously had a wife or girlfriend, the one he was at the club with, and one who probably was not my biggest fan, considering the fact that I ruined a great outfit and potentially a good date night for them.

  I cringed, hoping that he wasn’t one of those vindictive professors, one who took out their personal frustrations out on their students, even if he could have done so with good reason. The way that she had overreacted made me think that she probably wasn’t going to get over it anytime soon.

  But maybe this internship would be the perfect way to get into his good graces. I knew that I could surpass any and every expectation that he might have had for me. The thought of what it could do for my grades was one thing, but what could this possibly mean on a more personal level?

  Even though this would be a wonderfully enriching experience for my education and career, my fantasy from the night before made me start to toy with the idea that I might get more than what I set out for this semester. I smiled a sneaky smile and looked for a pen in my bag so that I could start filling out the application.

  I almost leapt out of bed when my phone started vibrating and chirping from its place buried inside of my bag. I tried to steady my hand as I fished around for it, hoping that it wouldn’t stop ringing before I had the chance to find it.

  When I finally found it, I saw my dad’s name on the screen.

  “Hey, honey, it’s Dad,” he said loudly, once I answered, sounding like he was in crowded room. I had to plug my ear to try hearing him.

  “Hey, Dad. I can barely hear you. Where are you?”

  “Your mom and I are out to dinner…” I could hear my mother talking frantically and then it sounded like the phone fell. After about a few seconds, my dad came back on the line.

  “Sorry, dropped the phone. Gosh, your mother,” he sighed tiredly. “She said that she tried calling you earlier and she couldn’t get ahold of you. So, I was just calling to check on you.”