Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Excerpt from JUST A BIT OBSESSED
About the Series
JUST A BIT TWISTED
(Book #1 in the Straight Guys series )
Alessandra Hazard
Copyright © 2014 Alessandra Hazard
Editor: Elizabeth Balmanno
Cover by: AKE Media
*Nightmare*
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons are purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book contains explicit M/M sex and graphic language. For mature audiences only.
Chapter 1
Mrs. Hawkins was going to kill him.
Shawn glanced at his watch and grimaced. It was one in the morning already; he had promised Mrs. Hawkins he wouldn’t come home later than midnight.
Bracing himself, he opened the door as quietly as he could. Emily was a light sleeper.
Shawn closed the door, wincing when it creaked. Dammit.
“Mr. Wyatt?” Mrs. Hawkins said, rubbing her eyes and sitting up on the couch.
Shawn glanced at the twins, but they didn’t seem to have woken up. He walked to their babysitter. It didn’t take long: the apartment was tiny.
Mrs. Hawkins was frowning deeply, an unhappy look on her face.
“I’m sorry,” Shawn said before she could say anything. “I’m really, really sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear. I couldn’t get back sooner. It was a slow night, and I didn’t get a lot of tips. I didn’t have enough money to pay you for this week, so I ended up staying until I did.”
Mrs. Hawkins’s lips pursed. She sighed. “Mr. Wyatt—Shawn. I understand your situation—it’s the only reason I’m still here—but you must understand mine, as well. I have a family, too, but I spend up to fifteen hours a day here, looking after two energetic four-year-olds. You don’t pay me enough for that.”
“I’ll find another job,” Shawn said quickly, trying to squash down the panic rising in his chest. “I’ll find a better job and I’ll pay you more.”
She sighed again, shaking her head. “That’s what you said last month, Shawn.” She looked at the girls. “I admire your dedication, but it can’t go on like that. You’re just twenty. You deserve better. They deserve better, too. Why don’t you find them a good family?”
“No,” he said, his voice hard. “They already have a family. They have me.”
“They barely see you. They ask about you all the time. They miss you.”
Shawn looked down at them. Emily and Bee slept curled into each other, their chubby cheeks almost touching.
A lump formed in his throat. “I miss them, too.” He looked at Mrs. Hawkins. “Please. I’ll find a solution. It really won’t happen again.” Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he gave her all the money he had. “Here, take this.”
She shook her head but accepted the money. “Think about what I said, Shawn,” she said before taking her purse and leaving.
Shawn locked the door and returned to the bed.
He knelt down beside the bed, rested his chin on the mattress, and stared at the twins.
The dim light made their platinum blond hair seem almost golden. They looked like little angels.
Shawn closed his eyes. God, he was so tired, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. He didn’t need to open the fridge to know they were out of groceries: he knew how long it took them to run out. They would have nothing to eat the day after tomorrow.
Desperation clawed up his throat. Then came resentment and anger.
Shawn shook them off. Being angry with his parents for having numerous debts, dying and leaving them penniless was useless. He couldn’t afford to waste time. He needed money. Now.
But how? He already worked two jobs.
“Shawn?”
Shawn opened his eyes. One of the girls was no longer asleep. A surge of panic coursed through him when he realized he could no longer tell them apart. Was it Emily or Bee?
“Baby?” he croaked out through the lump in his throat.
The little girl sat up slowly, careful not to wake up her sister, and Shawn breathed out. It was Emily: she was more mature and considerate than Bee, who was often a clueless ball of energy.
Emily reached out to him, and Shawn lifted her into his arms. “Hey, princess,” he whispered, kissing her on the temple and breathing in her sweet scent.
“You’re home,” Emily said, wrapping her little hands around his neck. “Missed you.”
“Me, too,” Shawn murmured, stroking her back. I’m sorry. “Did you have fun while I was out?”
Emily nodded. “We played a lot, but the Hawk didn’t let us go outside!”
“Don’t call Mrs. Hawkins that.” Though he had to suppress a smile. “Anything else?”
“A big man came after breakfast. He had a letter for you, but the Hawk didn’t let us touch it.”
“A letter, huh?” Shawn got to his feet, cradling Emily to his chest, and walked to his desk. “Let’s see.”
He picked up the envelope and returned to the bedside lamp. He squinted at it and his stomach dropped when he saw who it was from.
“What is it?” Emily asked.
Shawn opened the envelope, pulled out the piece of paper inside and started to read.
“…unacceptable grades…” “…upon failure of improvement…” “…scholarship will be terminated unless the student achieves…”
The paper dropped from his fingers to the floor and he didn’t notice.
“Shawn? Something bad happened?”
He looked down at Emily’s wide blue eyes and forced out a smile. “No, pumpkin. Everything is fine.” He buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes.
When it rained, it poured.
Chapter 2
“Something wrong?” said a familiar voice before an arm was slung around Shawn’s shoulders.
Shawn glanced at Christian, but kept walking. Their next class was going to start in ten minutes and it was one he couldn’t be late for. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit. Spill.” His friend’s dark brown eyes were fixed on him curiously.
Shawn shrugged. “I’m broke. And on top of that, they’re going to terminate my scholarship if I don’t improve my grades in three classes.”
Christian frowned. “I thought you already talked to Bates and Summers and explained your situation.”
Sighing, Shawn raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah. But there’s also Fluid Mechanics.”
Christian grimaced. “Rutledge.”
“Yep,” Shawn said miserably.
The school’s youngest tenured professor, Derek Rutledge had the nickname “Professor Asshole” for a reason. Strict and harsh, he set impossibly high standards for students and despised those who failed to achieve them. He didn’t tolerate “laziness.” And since Shawn mi
ssed too many of his lectures and often didn’t have time to complete his assignments, he was probably one of Rutledge’s least favorite students—if the man even had favorite students. The chances of Rutledge cutting him some slack were nonexistent. Rutledge didn’t cut anyone any slack. His demands bordered on ridiculous, but in the board’s eyes Rutledge could do no wrong, since he garnered a lot of research grants—like, a lot. Shawn had to give Rutledge credit—one didn’t become such a highly respected researcher by the age of thirty-three if one wasn’t incredibly intelligent—but it didn’t change the fact that the guy was a total asshole.
“What are you going to do?” Christian said.
“No idea.” Shawn made his way to their usual seats at the front of the lecture hall: Rutledge had ordered him and Christian to sit there all the time after he had caught them talking during his class. Shawn sat down and sighed. “What should I do?”
“I wish I could help you.” Christian dropped into a seat next to him. “But you know I’m a bit tight on the money, too.”
Shawn nodded. Christian lived at his grandmother’s and helped her as he could. His parents worked in another country and weren’t much of a help.
“What about your aunt?” Christian said. “I thought she used to help you out when things got tough.”
Shawn paused and gave him a look. “She died last year, Chris. I told you that.”
Christian’s face flushed bright red. “Shit, I’m sorry—I don’t know how I—”
Shawn shook his head. “Forget it.” It wasn’t that Christian didn’t care; he was just very sociable and had more friends than Shawn had acquaintances. No wonder it had slipped out of his mind.
“What about your cousin—Sage?” Christian smiled sheepishly. “See, I’m not completely hopeless! I remember him!”
Shawn laughed. “You are hopeless. He just recently got out of prison, and he needs to sort out his life. He doesn’t need my problems on top of his own. Anyway, I wasn’t asking about money. I meant Professor Rutledge. If I don’t get good grades in his class, I’ll lose the scholarship and will have to drop out.” Though sometimes Shawn wondered if it would be better to drop out: if he didn’t have school to attend, it would improve his chances of finding a half-decent job. Except a college degree would increase his chances of finding a well-paid job and giving Emily and Bee everything they needed as they grew up.
“Actually,” Christian said suddenly. “I’ve heard an interesting rumor about Rutledge.”
“What rumor?”
Christian glanced around, as though to make sure no one could hear them, before leaning in and murmuring into Shawn’s ear, “Tucker says Professor Rutledge has a weakness for pretty boys.”
Shawn blinked. “No way. He was just messing with you!”
“Nope, he was dead serious. Apparently someone saw Rutledge with a young guy all over him.”
Shawn chuckled, shaking his head. “Even if it’s true, what does it have to do with me?”
Christian gave him a pointed look.
Shawn opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Christian wiggled his eyebrows. “Tucker says Rutledge has a thing for blonds.”
“Unlucky for you, then.”
Smiling, Christian ran a hand through his messy brown hair. “Pfft. If I wanted to, it wouldn’t matter. But you’ve got it easy, blondie. Come on, man, it’s a perfect solution!”
Shawn gave him a pinched look. “There’s a tiny problem, though. I’m straight.”
His friend didn’t look fazed; he actually had the nerve to laugh. “So what? I’m not telling you to take it up the ass. Though it can actually feel very, very good if the other guy knows what he’s doing.” Christian grinned, and Shawn snorted. Christian was bisexual and had no problem admitting it.
“Chris—”
“I’m just saying you can be all flirty and shit without actually doing anything with him, you know? You’ve got the looks. I mean—you’re not my type, but I’m not blind. You’re hot. Easily the hottest guy in school.”
“You aren’t exactly an ugly duckling, either.” Everyone loved Christian. He might not be classically handsome, but practically everyone found him attractive. Christian was hard to look away from. Shawn might be straight, but even he sometimes stopped and stared when his friend smiled.
Christian winked. “Definitely not an ugly duckling, but I ain’t as pretty as you, princess.”
“Oh, I’ll show you, princess!” Shawn got him into a headlock, both of them laughing.
“Mr. Wyatt, Mr. Ashford, if you are quite done?” came a cold voice from behind them.
Shawn froze before letting go of his friend and straightening up. He didn’t dare look at Rutledge as the man moved past them to his desk. The lecture hall suddenly became silent.
“Fuck,” Christian whispered when Rutledge stopped in front of his desk and remained silent.
Shawn bit his lip hard and stole a glance at the professor. Rutledge’s dark eyes were fixed on Christian, his dark brows furrowed and his lips pursed in displeasure. Even when he wasn’t unhappy with someone, Professor Rutledge’s gaze could make anyone squirm. When he actually was unhappy, no one wanted to be on the receiving end of his heavy stares. Shawn thought he looked like a hawk, ready to swoop down and catch its prey.
Rutledge’s eyes moved from Christian to him. If possible, he looked even more displeased now, a muscle pulsing in his cheek. Shawn’s stomach tightened into a knot. He wet his dry lips and tried to look as respectful as possible, forcing himself to meet the professor’s eyes firmly. He wasn’t a coward, dammit. Rutledge was just a man.
Rutledge’s lips thinned. “Mr. Wyatt,” he said quietly.
Shawn swallowed convulsively. There was something about Rutledge’s voice that made it more menacing the quieter it got. “Yes, Professor?”
“If you and Mr. Ashford are not interested in what I am here to teach, you may leave.”
Looking at the man’s hard expression, Shawn suddenly remembered Christian’s advice and nearly laughed out loud—so ridiculous it was.
“No, sir. I mean, we’re very interested.” When not a single muscle moved on Rutledge’s face, Shawn added, “Actually, I wanted to talk to you after class about my grades.”
Rutledge looked at him for a few moments before offering a cool response, “I don’t have office hours today.” He sat down behind his desk and started his lecture.
Shawn looked at him blankly, unsure what Rutledge’s answer was supposed to mean. Was that yes or no? As in, “I don’t have office hours, so you may come” or “I don’t have office hours, so you can’t”?
Great. Fantastic.
Shawn sighed.
Chapter 3
The door to Professor Rutledge’s office was dark and very shiny.
Shawn stared at it, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut. His palms were beginning to sweat, so he wiped them against his jeans.
Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. Rutledge was just a man, not a monster. The worst thing the guy could do was say no.
He would just talk to him, explain his situation and hope Rutledge wasn’t the asshole everyone thought he was.
“Did you want something, Mr. Wyatt?” a smooth, low voice said.
Shawn nearly jumped. Turning around, he tried to find something to say.
“Mr. Wyatt?” Rutledge was frowning, a crease between his eyebrows.
“I wanted to talk to you, sir.”
“It’s not an office hour,” Rutledge said, unlocking his office and going inside.
He didn’t swing the door shut behind him, and Shawn hesitated, unsure if he was meant to follow him inside.
Rutledge sat down behind his massive desk and turned on his computer. “I don’t have all day, Wyatt,” he said without looking at him.
Shawn entered the room hurriedly. He closed the door, walked to the desk and stopped. He looked around, but there wasn’t much to look at.
>
“Well?”
Shawn forced himself to look at the other man.
Rutledge was studying him with a hint of impatience.
Shawn gripped the back of the chair in front of him. “As I said, I wanted to talk about my grades.”
Rutledge’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not certain what there is to talk about. I don’t give seconds chances to students who don’t deserve them. You don’t bother to attend most of my lectures, the quality of your coursework is abysmal, and now you want a passing grade. The policy concerning class attendance is clearly stated on the class syllabus; students should read this policy carefully and should plan on complying with it. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re a scholarship student. If you’re worried about your scholarship, I’m afraid the only thing you can do is drop the class.”
“I can’t drop your class—it’s a co-requisite for another class I’m currently taking and I can’t drop both without losing my scholarship. So I can’t fail your class and I can’t drop it. I need a passing grade, sir.”
The look Rutledge gave him was unimpressed. “You can blame only yourself, Wyatt. You don’t deserve a better grade. Your attendance, assignments, class participation, and test grades have been below expectations for the course. If you came here to tell me some sob story and beg me for a better grade, save your breath. I’ve heard it all: sick elderly mothers, little children to look after, working three jobs, and so forth. If you can’t or don’t want to study and learn, do both of us a favor: stop wasting our time and drop out of college.”
Shawn’s heart sank. A part of him had hoped Rutledge would take pity on him if he told him about his situation and let him turn in his assignments late. But apparently, Rutledge didn’t care and didn’t want to listen to “sob stories.”
Shawn’s jaw tightened. His pride urged him to turn around and leave, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lose the scholarship. His sisters depended on him.
Suddenly, he remembered Christian’s ridiculous advice.
…says Professor Rutledge has a weakness for pretty boys… I’m just saying you can be all flirty and shit without actually doing anything with him…
Just a Bit Twisted Page 1