**Tom**
I stepped into my car, sinking into the plush leather seat with a sigh. The afternoon sun beat down on the windshield, and I squinted against its glare. As I turned the key in the ignition, my mind wandered back to Sara.
A smile tugged at my lips. Who'd have thought I'd end up in bed with one of my students? Life sure had a way of throwing curveballs.
"Christ, Thomas," I muttered, shaking my head. "You've really done it this time."
I pulled out of the faculty parking lot, my thoughts jumbled. The memory of Sara's soft skin and passionate kisses flooded my mind. It had been one hell of a night, that was for sure.
"Shit," I chuckled, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. "I fucked my student. Brilliant move, professor."
The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, supposedly the mature, responsible adult in the situation, and I'd gone and slept with a girl barely out of her early twenties. Talk about a midlife crisis. Sure, Sara was around 23 or 24, not exactly jailbait, but Christ, I was 31 - old enough to know better.
I'd always prided myself on being the consummate professional, the level-headed professor who kept his nose clean and his hands to himself. Now, look at me, risking my entire career for a night of passion with a student. The worst part? I couldn't bring myself to regret it entirely. The memory of her lips and touch sent a shiver down my spine even now. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to focus on the road ahead instead of the storm brewing in my conscience.
"At least we didn't know," I reasoned, as if that made it any better. "Small mercies, I suppose."
One minute, I'm enjoying a night out at the pub; the next, I'm tangled up in sheets with a gorgeous young woman. And now? Now I'm her bloody professor.
"You couldn't make this shit up if you tried," I snorted, shaking my head.
As I navigated through the city traffic, I couldn't shake the image of Sara's face when she realized who I was. The shock, the embarrassment, the hint of something else I couldn't quite place. It was like a scene from a bad rom-com.
"Welcome to your life, Tom," I said to my reflection in the rearview mirror. "Where your one-night stands come back to haunt you in the lecture hall."
I chuckled darkly at my joke, feeling like the universe was having a grand old time at my expense. As I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex, I wondered what other surprises life had in store for me.
I was about to step out of the car when my phone started blaring. I fumbled for it, nearly dropping the damn thing in my haste. The screen lit up with a familiar face - my mother.
"Hello, Mother," I answered, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice.
"Thomas, darling!" Her chipper voice crackled through the speaker. "Don't tell me you forgot about our lunch plans?"
I closed my eyes, letting my head thump back against the headrest. Lunch plans. Right. Apparently, the universe wasn't done throwing curveballs at me just yet.
"Forgot? Me? Never," I lied through my teeth, scrambling to remember when we'd even made these plans. "I was just, uh, on my way."
"Thomas Blackwood," she chided, and I could practically see her wagging her finger at me through the phone. "You did forget, didn't you?"
"Alright, you got me. I'm sorry, Mum. It's been a... let's just say it's been an interesting day."
"Oh?" Her voice perked up with interest. I could almost hear her leaning forward, ready for some juicy gossip. "Do tell."
"Nothing to tell," I said quickly—too quickly. "It's just, you know, normal professor stuff—lectures, papers, the usual."
"Well, alright then," she replied, sounding unconvinced. "Come quickly, dear. You know how your father gets when we're late."
I winced. Dad's punctuality obsession was legendary. "Right, of course. I'll be there in a jiffy, Mum."
"See you soon, darling."
I hung up, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat with a groan. Great. Just what I needed - lunch with the parents after the most bizarre day of my life.
As I pulled out of the parking lot, my mind drifted back to Sara. Christ, what a mess. I couldn't tell anyone about this, especially not my parents. I could just imagine their reactions.
"Hey Mum, Dad, guess what? I shagged one of my students! Pass the salt, would you?"
Yeah, that'd go over well. Mum would probably faint dead away, and Dad? He'd give me that disappointed look he's perfected over the years. The one that says, "I expected better from you, son."
I snorted. As if I needed any help, feeling like a complete prat.
The more I thought about it, the worse it seemed. What if someone found out? My colleagues would think I was some sort of predatory creep, taking advantage of my students. My reputation would be in tatters.
"Way to go, Tom," I muttered, navigating through traffic. "You've really outdone yourself this time."
The drive to my parents' mansion felt longer than usual, probably because I dreaded the impending interrogation. Mum had a nose for secrets, and I was carrying a doozy.
I pulled up to the wrought-iron gates. "Alright, Tom. Just act normal. You can do this. It's just lunch with your parents, not an inquisition."
But who was I kidding? With my mother, it was always an inquisition.
I rolled down the window, plastering on my best "everything's fine" smile. The security guard, a burly man with a mustache that could double as a small rodent, peered into my car.
"Afternoon, Mr. Blackwood," he grunted, his voice gruff as sandpaper. "Late again, I see."
"You know me, Frank. Always living life on the edge."
Frank raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by my attempt at humor. "Your father's been pacing the driveway for the last ten minutes."
"Fantastic," I muttered under my breath. "Thanks for the heads up, Frank."
The gate swung open with a creak that sounded suspiciously like my father's disappointed sigh. I drove through, my tires crunching on the gravel driveway that seemed to stretch on for miles.
As the mansion came into view, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. The place was less a home and more a monument to my parents' success - all gleaming white stone and towering columns. It looked like someone had taken Buckingham Palace, given it steroids, and plopped it down in the middle of the countryside.
"Subtle as ever, Mum and Dad," I chuckled.
I parked my car next to Dad's collection of vintage automobiles, my modest sedan looking like a toy among the gleaming Rolls-Royces and Bentleys. As I stepped out, I caught sight of my reflection in the polished hood of a nearby Jaguar. I straightened my tie, ran a hand through my hair, and tried to look like a respectable professor instead of a man who'd just had his world turned upside down by a one-night stand.
"Right then," I muttered, psyching myself up. "Time to face the music."