Free MY HOT TEACHER: (Volume 5 of the "My Hot..." series; a stand-alone, New Adult novel) by Isabella Johns Page A

because I’m completely trapped, as there isn’t any place else to run except back out the way I came in.  I crouch even lower, frantic to quiet my breathing.  I keep my face down to hide the exposure of my eyes, willing myself to become invisible, praying that he’s gone. 
    But then I sense a figure standing over me!
    I jump up in fright, take a quick step back, instantly terrorized by a man clad in black, face fully covered with a ski mask, only his beady eyes illuminated, pearl handled knife in his hand poised to come forward toward my hair and strike.
    “Please don’t!” I cry.
    The knife does stop, though it remains pointed at me.  A muffled voice from behind the mask says, “Celine?”
    Despite my fears, despite the muffle, I recognize the voice immediately.  I unravel the scarf from my face. 
    “Benjamin?”
    The knife hand falls to his side.  With the other hand he lifts up the ski mask to reveal his pimply face. 
    “Wassup?”
    The knife dangles in his hand the exact way he dangled his penis on our first night out.  I tell him the same thing I said that night, in the same tone of voice, “Put that away!”
    Obediently, he closes the pocketknife and tucks it into his pants pocket.
    “Are you off your meds again?”
    “That shit upsets my stomach.”
    “I’m taking you to Public Safety.”
    He lowers his head, says, “I’m really sorry.”
    I take his arm and lead him across campus to the Public Safety building, my pulse finally dropping below 120, just barely.  I think of saying, for the umpteenth time, that he can’t go around doing things like this, but it’s no use.  Instead I say, “Perhaps they’ll go easy because you’re off your meds.  Either way, you need help.”
    “Thank you.”
    “For what?”
    “For helping me and being my friend.”
    “Perhaps I wasn’t a good enough friend.”
    He replies with his usual post-incident insight, “You’re better than most.  I’m just fucked up.”
    At Public Safety I’m comforted that Lieutenant Majors is there.  She removes the knife, pats Benjamin down while wearing latex gloves, cuffs him and takes him to a separate room.  She looks at me gratefully, as if I’ve done all of this good detective work and finally reeled in the right man.  If the lieutenant only knew.  The local police come, take my statement, then take Benjamin away.
    College is the last thing he needs.
    Lieutenant Majors insists that I let a Public Safety officer drive me to the dorm.  I prefer to walk in the fresh New Hampshire air, made spectacular by falling snow, but I’m in no condition to be alone.  Being in the Public Safety car postpones the inevitable.  Once in the dorm, I manage to make it to the bathroom on my floor, lock myself in a stall, and let the tears flow.
    Being the practical me held off these feelings as I escorted Benjamin to Public Safety and gave short, specific answers to everyone’s questions.
    But I’m alone now and that’s the problem.  One of my friends turned out to be the ultimate creep and it’s probably my fault for neglecting him.  My best friend, and I’m eternally grateful for Katia, is hundreds of miles away.  And at the height of my fright, after seeing the empty car, I believed that the person I love, the one I open to completely and allow into my body, was trying to hurt me.
    I dry my eyes with torn strips of toilet paper.  I go to my room, tiptoe in the dark because my roommate is sleeping, find my charger, charge my phone for several minutes.  Then I step out in the hallway and do something I can’t help, something that I’m sure will have a profound effect on my immediate future...one way or the other. 
    I call Professor Beard and ask him if he can please come pick me up so I can spend the night at his place.

 
     
    CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
     
    How awful if he says no to picking me up this late, or makes some lame excuse, or simply comes right out and declares that I’m asking for too much, or even