My Two Men of the House 3: Kevin and Michael by Cassandra Zara Read Free Book Online Page B

not tolerate cheating in my classroom."
    If all eyes weren’t already on me, they were by then. All thirty students stared at me with a mix of pity and relief that it wasn’t their ass on the chopping block.
    "But I wasn’t-"
    Again he cut my words short with his own.
    "Frankly I don’t care what you were and weren’t doing. You may turn in your exam now."
    I fought back the urge to both cry like a baby and beg for another chance as I gathered my things with shaky hands and got up from the chair, the half-done exam clenched in one fist. Up in front, the professor leaned against the lecture table and opened his palm, a silent gesture for me to hand it over in front of everyone.
    A pang of nausea washed over me as I dragged myself into the isle and down toward him. Half way there, I started to feel dizzy. It was almost like being drunk; like there was a thick fog that blurred and twisted everything around me. I couldn’t speak and I wasn’t even sure that I could force myself to go up there and face the consequences of my foolish actions.
    "Well?" It might have been my senses playing tricks on me, but he almost sounded pleased with himself. But more than that, the lingering bit of shame over what Daddy, his twin brother and I had done made me feel like he was judging me... like he knew something. "We don’t have all afternoon."
    I made it within five feet of the Professor before the exam slipped from between my fingers and fluttered down to the ground. The room was so silent that, even in a group of over thirty people, you could hear every little rustle and swish as the pages of the exam wafted to the ground like dirty feathers.
    With a horrible mix of anger and fear, I wrenched my feet from where they had planted into the floor and ran out, throwing the door at the back open so forcefully that it smashed against the exterior wall and sent little bits of stucco flying skyward. From there, I ran even faster to the safety of my car, where I locked the door and proceeded to sob into my hot, sweaty palms for so long that my whole face became red and flushed.
    It still looked that way when I stumbled through the front door to an empty house a little while later, my backpack carelessly dragging behind me on the ground. I felt so defeated; so ashamed of myself. What would Daddy Mike and Daddy Kevin think if they knew that their "sweet girl" was a failure at college? Would they be disappointed? Worse yet, would they ever again let me experience their knowing touches if I couldn’t even handle a simple calculus class? The thought made me feel like crying all over again.
    I called out to the silent house, "Daddy?"
    There was no answer, so I walked through the living room and called again but was met with the same response. In a way, I was relieved to get a pass on explaining the whole situation to someone so soon. But at the same time, I was desperate for the comfort that only my Daddies could provide.
    I left my bag on the floor where it was and scurried to my room, where I closed and locked the door behind me. Once that I was done, I fell back against it and sank to the floor with a sigh.
    What now, genius? I asked myself.
    It was a rhetorical question, of course, because I didn’t have the slightest idea where to go from there. I had almost certainly failed calculus and I knew that Daddy Mike, who had been paying out the nose for me to attend college, wasn’t going to be pleased at all. The last thing in the world that I wanted to do was fail him, whether in an academic sense or another, less wholesome one.
    Feeling suddenly heavy, my head fell back against the wood with a thud and then rolled to the side so that I faced the chaotic mess that was my closet. Dangling amidst the haplessly strewn tops and jeans, my favorite pajamas beckoned.
    "I guess it’s a start," I said under my breath and crawled over to the light purple, silk dress and easily slipped it from the hanger.
    I climbed to my feet and shed the clothes that I