Troublemaker Meets The Four Hottie Professors

Cheska

The bass from the speakers thumps against my ribcage, making the world tilt just a little more than it already is. I press my palms to my temples. My head is heavy, and the room is starting to spin in slow, blurry circles.

The rest of the cheer squad is acting like a pack of animals. They are screaming, jumping, and slapping my arms every time the beer bottle spins on the sticky table and points its jagged neck right at me. Again.

"Another one!" Jules yells, her face flushed with cheap vodka and mischief. "Truth or dare, Cheska?"

"Truth," I mutter, trying to keep my balance while sitting perfectly still. "I'm done with the dares."

Jules leans in, a wicked glint in her eyes. "No way. You've done ten truths tonight. You're taking the dare, or you're buying the next three rounds."

I groan, looking at my empty wallet. "Fine. What is it?"

Jules doesn't hesitate. She points a manicured finger toward the VIP section, away from the neon strobe lights. "See that guy? The one sitting alone,e like he owns the place? Go over there. Kiss him. And then tell him he's a terrible kisser."

My jaw drops. I look at the man. He is sitting in the shadows, draped in an expensive black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks dangerous. He looks like he's in a completely different world than this sweaty, loud club.

"No," I say, but my friends are already grabbing my arms. They pull me up, laughing and shoving me toward the VIP line. "Guys, stop! I can't do that!"

"Go on, Cheska! Don't be a coward!"

The alcohol in my blood gives me a sudden, stupid surge of confidence. I shake them off and straighten my skirt. I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath.

"Watch me," I hiss.

I walk toward him. Every step feels like I'm moving through honey. The closer I get, the more the air seems to change. It gets colder, quieter, and much more intense.

He's staring at the dance floor, but he isn't really seeing it. He looks like he's haunted by something. He looks broken.

"Hey," I say, stopping right in front of him.

He looks up. His eyes are hazel, sharp, and so intense I almost forget how to breathe. He doesn't say a word. He just looks at me like I'm an interesting puzzle he doesn't feel like solving.

"Are you alone?" I ask. My voice is breathy. "Are you single?"

He takes a slow sip of his drink, his throat moving as he swallows. "I suppose I am," he says. His voice is deep. It's a low growl that vibrates in the air between us.

I don't give myself time to think. If I think, I'll run. I step into his space, hiking my knees up onto his booth and sliding onto his lap.

He freezes. I can feel the hard muscle of his thighs beneath me. He smells incredible. It's a mix of expensive whiskey, sandalwood, and something clean like rain. It's an intoxicating, masculine scent that makes my head swim more than the beer did.

"What do you want?" he asks. He doesn't push me off. His large hand hovers near my waist, not quite touching me, but I can feel the heat radiating off his palm.

I lean in until our noses are almost touching. I can see the golden flecks in his eyes. I can see the slight curve of his mouth.

"I want you," I whisper.

I bridge the gap and press my lips to his.

At first, he is like a stone. He doesn't move. But then, his hand slides firmly onto the small of my back, pulling me flush against his chest. He groans deep in his throat and starts to kiss me back.

It isn't a simple kiss. It is slow, possessive, and practiced. He tastes like smoke and honey. He moves his mouth against mine with a confidence that makes my knees weak, and my heart hammer against my teeth. He is better than any guy I've ever been with. He is leagues better than my ex, Kier.

I'm starting to lose myself. I'm starting to want to stay here all night.

I force myself to pull away. I'm breathless, my heart racing so fast it hurts. I scramble off his lap, my face burning. I look back at my friends, who are cheering and filming on their phones.

I turn back to him and put on my best fake smirk, even though my lips are tingling.

"You're not a good kisser," I say. My voice cracks just a little bit.

He doesn't look insulted. He leans back in the booth, a slow, dark smile spreading across his face. He lets out a low, dry chuckle that sends a shiver straight down my spine.

"Are you sure about that?" he asks.

His gaze drops to my mouth and then back to my eyes, challenging me. He knows I'm lying. He knows exactly what he just did to me.

I can't handle the way he's looking at me. I roll my eyes, turn on my heel, and practically run back to my friends without looking back.

The moment I get back to the table, the squad explodes. They are screaming, doubled over with laughter, and slapping the surface so hard the bottles rattle. Jules is practically crying, pointing at me like I just pulled off the stunt of the century.

I can't join in. I can't even smile.

All I can feel is the lingering ghost of his lips on mine. The heat is still there, humming under my skin. His eyes are burned into my brain, dark and cold and seeing right through me.

My phone buzzes against the wood. I glance down and see the name on the screen. Kier.

I gasp, my heart doing a nervous little skip. "Guys, hang on. I have to take this," I say, pushing through the crowd toward the exit of the bar.

The cool night air hits my face, but it doesn't do much to dampen the flush on my cheeks. I swipe to answer.

"Hey, babe," Kier's voice is warm, easy. "Are you still with the girls? I'm just at the bar next door. Want me to come grab you so we can hang out here?"

I look back through the glass door at my friends. They're still shots-deep and chaotic. I don't want to go home yet, and being with Kier feels like the only way to wash off the strange tension from that stranger in the VIP booth.

"Okay," I say, my voice a bit shaky. "Stay there. I'll walk over."

I hang up and try to force a smile. I tell myself the kiss was just a dare. It didn't mean anything.

And that is the last thing I remember clearly.

When my eyes snap open, I bolt upright. My head is throbbing with a dull, rhythmic ache. This isn't my room. The bed is massive, the sheets are crisp white, and the air smells like an expensive hotel.

Then I see him. Kier is lying right next to me, fast asleep.

The panic sets in when I realize I'm naked. Completely bare under the heavy duvet.

I stop breathing for a second. My hands go cold as I try to piece the night together. I remember the bar. I remember the alcohol and the laughter. I remember leaning into Kier's chest and the way his hands felt on my waist. But after that? Nothing.

"Did we?" I whisper to myself. My heart is hammering against my ribs.

I pull the covers tighter around my chest, feeling a flush of heat crawl up my neck. I look at Kier's peaceful face. I want to wake him up and demand answers, but I'm terrified of what he might say.

Suddenly, my phone on the nightstand starts vibrating like crazy. I grab it before it wakes him. It's my brother, Calix.

I answer it, my voice trembling. "Calix?"

"Cheska! Where the hell are you?" Calix's voice is a roar of pure worry and anger. "You didn't come home last night!"

"Calix, I... I just..." I stumble over my words, my brain feeling like it's full of cotton.

Kier stirs next to me. He rubs his eyes, blinking at the ceiling. "Argh," he groans, his voice thick with sleep. "Can you guys stop fighting? It's too early for this." He pulls a pillow over his face to block out the light.

The blood drains from my face.

"Cheska!" Calix yells through the phone, his tone turning sharp. "Who was that? Who is that man? Tell me where you are right now. I'm coming to get you."

Panic takes over. I don't give him a chance to say another word. I thumb the end-call button and scramble out of bed. I grab my clothes from the floor, shaking as I pull them on. I have to get out of here. Now.

I slip out of the bedroom and hurry down the stairs. My heart is thumping so loud I'm sure everyone in the house can hear it. I reach the bottom step and freeze.

There is a man in the living room.

He is sitting on a sleek leather sofa, looking perfectly relaxed. He has a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He wears a simple black t-shirt that stretches over broad shoulders. The air around him feels heavy, still, and dominant.

He slowly lowers the paper.

Hazel eyes.

A cold, unreadable stare.

I stop breathing. My stomach drops into my shoes. It's him. The man from the bar. The stranger I kissed in front of everyone.

"W-what are you doing here?" I stammer. My voice is barely a whisper.

He doesn't answer. He just looks at me, his gaze traveling slowly from my messy hair down to my wrinkled clothes. He's dissecting me without saying a word.

Before I can move, I hear footsteps on the stairs behind me. Kier walks down, shirtless and yawning.

"Oh, Dad," Kier says, his voice casual. "I didn't think you'd be back from the province so soon."

The world stops spinning. I look at Kier, then back at the man on the sofa.

"Dad?" I choke out.

The man I kissed last night-the man who made me forget my own name with a single touch-is my fling's father.

Cheska

The air in the hallway felt like it had been sucked out of the room. My skin went cold. I stood frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it was actually painful. I wanted the floor to crack open and swallow me whole.

"Cheska?"

Kier's voice drifted down from the stairs, light and curious. He padded toward us, his face relaxed into a casual smile. He had no idea. He didn't see the electricity vibrating in the small space between me and the man standing in front of him.

"Babe, this is my stepdad, Damian Delmar," Kier said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch felt like ice. "Dad, this is Cheska. She's my... best friend."

The world went silent. The word Stepdad echoed in my skull, over and over, mocking me.

Damian Delmar.

The man from the bar. The stranger with the rough hands and the dark, knowing eyes. The man I had pinned against a brick wall and kissed like my life depended on it just twelve hours ago.

I stared at him, my breath hitching in my throat. I waited for him to look shocked. I waited for him to explain. But Damian just tilted his head slightly. A slow, infuriating smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. It was calm. It was dangerous.

My stomach did a slow, sick flip. He wasn't going to say anything. He was going to let me drown.

"Hi, Cheska," he said.

His voice was a low growl, smooth as expensive bourbon. It sent a shiver straight down my spine that had nothing to do with fear. He acted like we were strangers meeting for the first time, but his eyes stayed on mine a second too long. He was remembering the taste of me. I knew it.

"Hi," I managed to whisper. My voice was thin, barely a sound. My knees felt like water.

"Sorry, Dad," Kier interrupted, letting out a forced laugh. He stepped closer to me, oblivious. "We stayed out late. I think the tequila is still talking for her. She isn't fully awake yet."

I looked at Kier, trying to force a smile, but my face felt like stone. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run.

"I should go," I blurted out. I didn't wait for a reply. I didn't look at Kier's confused face or Damian's burning gaze. I turned on my heel and bolted.

I practically tripped over my own feet as I scrambled out of the house. The morning air was crisp, but my skin was burning. I walked fast, my lungs stinging with every breath. My mind was a mess of memories. Kier had told me about his stepdad before. He told me how his mom had left and how Damian had been the one to stay and raise him. He'd talked about him like he was a saint.

He wasn't a saint. I knew how he tasted. I knew the way his hands felt on my waist.

A black car suddenly pulled up beside me, the tires crunching on the gravel. The tinted window rolled down, and I felt my heart sink even further. My brother, Calix, was staring at me. He didn't have to say a word. The disappointment was written in the hard set of his jaw.

"Get in the car," he said. His voice was cold.

I climbed into the passenger seat without a fight. For several minutes, the only sound was the hum of the engine and the roar of blood in my ears.

"Cheska, stop this bullshit," Calix said finally. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. "You can't keep doing this. We get it. Losing Mom destroyed you. It destroyed all of us. But coming home at dawn, smelling like a bar? You're better than this."

I gripped my knees, my fingernails digging into my jeans. The lecture. Again.

"Seriously?" I let out a sharp, jagged laugh. My eyes stung. "I'm twenty-three, Calix. I can take care of myself. But you? You love playing the martyr. The perfect, responsible son. It's pathetic."

He swallowed hard, his throat working as he fought to keep his temper. "This isn't about me."

"Isn't it?" I snapped, the anger finally boiling over. "You're the golden child. I'm the mess. The one who embarrasses the family name. That's the script, right?"

"That isn't true," he said softly, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. "I just want you to be okay."

I looked out the window, watching the trees blur into a mess of green. I was so tired. I was tired of the guilt, tired of the grief, and now, I was terrified of the dark fire I had started with a man who was strictly off-limits.

I closed my eyes, but all I could see was Damian's smile.

"I know," I whisper.

The words feel thin and brittle in the small space of the car. I look at my hands, picking at a loose thread on my jeans because I can't look at him.

"I just need you and Papa to see me. The real me. Not the version of me you're mourning."

Silence settles over us, thick and suffocating. The only sound is the sudden, violent pelt of rain against the windshield. It's loud, rhythmic, and heavy. Every drop feels like a memory of Mama. I can almost hear her voice cutting through the tension, scolding us for fighting the way she used to. But she isn't here to play peacemaker anymore. Now, our anger just sits there between us, raw and unchecked.

My brother is right. When she died, she took the old Cheska with her. That girl was bright and full of ambition. She had plans. This new version of me is a ghost. I didn't choose to be this way, but it's easier to drown the grief in a glass of amber liquid. It's easier to pretend I'm fine and let the world blur until I can't feel the ache in my chest.

"Sorry, Calix," I mutter.

I swipe a thumb under my eye, catching a stray tear before he can see it. I'm tired of being the girl who cries.

"I didn't mean it."

He sighs, a long sound that carries the weight of everything we aren't saying. He reaches out and taps my shoulder, his touch brief but grounding.

"It's okay," he says softly. "I've got you. Let's go home. Papa is looking for us."

I nod and force a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. It feels like lead is sitting in my lungs. Outside, the rain turns the world into a gray smear, matching the chaos inside me.

But as the car pulls away, my mind isn't on my father or my grief. It's on the memory of last night. I keep seeing his face. Damian Delmar.

He was supposed to be a stranger. Just a man at a bar with dark eyes and hands that made me forget my own name for a few hours. I thought I could walk away from that heat, but now the thought of him burns. I can still feel the way he looked at me, like he could see through every lie I've told myself.

I don't know how I'm going to breathe the next time our eyes meet.

Cheska

I spent the entire day hiding. I stayed tangled in my sheets, staring at the ceiling until my eyes burned. Every time I closed them, he was there. I could still feel the phantom heat of Damian's lips against mine, taste the dark, expensive scent of his breath, and feel the terrifying jolt of adrenaline when Kier called him Dad.

The realization was a heavy weight in my stomach. We lived only a few blocks apart. In a neighborhood this small, our paths were bound to collide, especially since I was dating his stepson. I wanted to disappear, to run until I forgot the way his hands felt on my waist, but there was nowhere to go.

I didn't sleep. By the time the sun started bleeding through the curtains, my head was throbbing. I considered skipping class, but my coach had texted me saying my spot on the varsity team was safe despite my failed subject. I had to show up. I had to be the girl everyone expected me to be.

I dragged myself out of bed, feeling like a hollow shell. I dressed quickly and slipped out of the house early, hoping the morning mist would shield me from anyone I knew.

Then, the sound of a horn sliced through the quiet street. A sleek red car pulled up beside me.

The window rolled down, and my heart stopped.

Damian.

A current of electricity surged under my skin, pinning me to the pavement. My hands began to shake, so I shoved them into my pockets. He leaned toward the passenger side, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips as if he could smell the panic coming off me in waves.

"Good morning," he said. His voice was smooth, like expensive bourbon. He acted as if we hadn't been pressed against each other in a dark bar forty-eight hours ago. "Need a ride? I'm heading that way."

I couldn't find my voice. I knew I should say no, but the air between us felt thick and magnetic. I found myself nodding and climbing in before my brain could find a reason to stop me.

The interior of the car smelled like him-leather and something spicy. The silence was agonizing. Every second felt like a heartbeat thudding in my throat. After a few minutes, he broke the tension without taking his eyes off the road.

"Kier and I talked about you last night," he said casually. "He had a lot to say. You two are dating, right?"

A cold shiver raced down my spine. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Had he told him? Was Kier waiting at school to scream at me?

"It's... it's more of a fling setup for now," I stammered, hating how small my voice sounded.

Damian just nodded. The silence returned, but this time it felt sharper. I forced myself to look at him, my pulse racing.

"Damian," I started, my voice trembling. "About that night. I didn't mean for it to happen. It was a dare. My friends... I didn't really have a choice."

He slowed the car at a red light and turned to me. His gaze was intense, dark, and far too observant. Slowly, his lips curved into a wicked grin.

"So... it isn't true that I'm a bad kisser?"

I felt the blood rush to my face. "What? I-no-I didn't-"

He let out a low, deep laugh that vibrated in my chest. "I'm kidding. Relax, Cheska. You look like you're about to jump out of the moving car. Don't worry. I have no plans of telling Kier what happened."

He turned back to the road, his profile sharp and devastatingly handsome. "It's better if we just forget it. Act like it never happened. Also, stop calling me 'Sir' or 'Po.' Damian is fine. I'm only twenty-eight. You're making me feel like an old man."

I froze. Twenty-eight?

Kier was twenty-four. There were only four years between them. My mind raced, trying to do the math, trying to figure out how he could possibly be Kier's stepfather. He was barely older than my boyfriend, yet he carried himself with a power that made Kier look like a child.

"Oh... okay," I whispered, my face still flaming. "Thank you, Damian."

I fumbled over his name, my tongue tripping. I reached up to rub the back of my neck, wishing the floor would open up.

He laughed again, a rich sound that seemed to pull the oxygen out of the car. "You're really bad at this, aren't you?" he teased, his eyes flickering to me with a spark of something dangerous. "But at least you're trying."

I force a smile, feeling the heavy knot in my chest loosen just a fraction. Breathing becomes a little easier. My mind is still a blur of images from the last few minutes. I keep seeing the way Damian's lips curled when he teased me and the way his voice vibrated in the small, expensive space of the car. It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that he's only twenty-eight. He has the kind of presence that makes him feel like he owns every room he walks into, a stark contrast to Kier's boyish energy.

A familiar face on the sidewalk snaps me out of my trance. It's Kai. She's leaning against a post, looking as chaotic and ready for trouble as ever. Kai is the kind of friend who would start a riot for me without asking why.

"Uhm, you can drop me here, Damian. I'll just walk with my friend," I say, my voice a little breathless as I point toward Kai.

"Are you sure? Your school is just a few blocks away," he asks. He slows the car, his hand shifting on the gear stick. I catch the way the muscles in his forearm flex under his rolled-up sleeves.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's close enough. Thanks for the ride." I give him a quick, tight smile.

He nods, his dark eyes lingering on mine for a second too long before he pulls away. "Sure. Stay safe, Cheska."

I stand on the curb and watch the red car disappear around the corner. Kai is already hovering next to me, her eyes wide and a massive, devious smirk plastered on her face.

"Holy shit, Cheska. Who was that? He is gorgeous," she squeals, nudging me hard. "Please tell me you're hooking up with him while you're dating Kier. That man is a literal god."

I let out a long, exhausted breath and start walking toward the campus gates. "Kai, stop. It's a long story and I am not in the mood to tell it yet."

"Fine," she says, though I know she'll be digging for details within the hour. Her tone shifts, becoming a bit softer. "Anyway, what happened the other day? You looked like a ghost after Mr. Serrano's class. I was actually worried about you."

I groan at the mention of that name. Mr. Serrano. The man who single-handedly ruined my GPA. "Ugh, don't remind me. I can't stand him. Honestly, the only thing I learned in his class was how to submit an assignment at 11:59 p.m. without having a heart attack."

We both burst into a fit of laughter, the kind of loud, ugly laughing that makes people stare. I'm doubled over, finally feeling like myself again, when a cold, sharp voice cuts through the air behind us.

"Is that right, Ms. Vega?"

The laughter dies in my throat. My blood turns to ice. I turn around slowly, praying the earth will open up and swallow me whole.

God, no. It's Mr. Serrano.

Kai is biting her lip to keep from losing it, but I'm frozen. "G-good morning, Mr. Serrano," I stammer. My heart is hammering against my ribs. "We... we weren't talking about you."

He gives me a look that says he knows exactly how much I'm lying. A small, dangerous smile touches his lips. It isn't a friendly smile. It's the kind of smile a predator gives its prey.

"If all you learned from my class was how to beat a deadline," he says, his voice low and terrifyingly calm, "then you definitely deserve to be sitting in my front row again this year, Ms. Vega."

He doesn't wait for me to respond. He just turns and walks away, his back straight, looking perfectly composed while I'm left standing there looking like an idiot.

"Cheska..." Kai whispers, finally letting out a muffled giggle. "Talk about bad timing. You basically summoned the devil. Looks like you're going to have a fun year with Mr. Beast."

I roll my eyes and give her a shove, trying to ignore the way my pulse is still racing. "Shut up, Kai. He's probably going to give me a pop quiz just for breathing in his direction."

I head straight to the gym for cheer practice. I need to move. I need to sweat out the stress of the morning and forget about the two men currently occupying every corner of my brain. The gym is humid and smells like floor wax and effort.

Halfway through our routine, Coach blows the whistle. "Girls! Everyone over here. Since we only have the seniors today, I have something to ask."

We huddle around her, dripping with sweat and gasping for air. I wipe a bead of perspiration from my forehead, feeling the familiar burn in my muscles.

"As you all know, Cheska is back with us for another year," Coach says, glancing at me with a smile. "I want to put it to a vote. Do we keep her as captain, or do we want to pick someone new?"

Before I can even process the question, Stephanie's hand shoots up.

"Coach, you and Cheska are the reason we made it to nationals last year," Stephanie says firmly. "We want her to stay. There's no one else who can lead this team like she does."

The rest of the girls start cheering and clapping. The sound echoes off the high ceilings of the gym, filling me with a sudden, sharp burst of pride.

Coach motions for me to stand beside her. "Well, that's that. Since everyone is on board, Cheska will be your captain for the year."

The team erupts again. For the first time all day, the heavy weight in my chest lifts. I'm still the girl who can lead. I'm still the girl who wins. Even if my personal life is a complete mess, at least in this gym, I know exactly who I am.

Coach is still talking, but the air in the gym shifts. I feel it before I see it. It is that prickle on the back of my neck when someone powerful enters the room. I look toward the far end of the gym and spot a man standing by the doors.

He looks like an admin, but he moves like he owns the building. He is wearing a crisp suit that hugs a frame just as tall and broad as Damian's. He holds a clipboard in one hand, but his presence is what really commands attention. Every girl on the squad stops moving. We all turn, drawn in like moths to a flame.

I take a second look, and my breath hitches. He has jet black hair and eyes so blue they look like shards of ice. He is undeniably handsome, though his face is set in a harsh, bossy expression that makes my skin itch.

He starts walking toward us. The gym goes dead silent. I swallow hard, the sound loud in my own ears as he stops in front of our group.

"Who is your captain?" he asks.

His voice is cold. It cuts right through the humid air. We all trade looks, the silence stretching out for a few heartbeats. I take a breath, square my shoulders, and lift my hand.

"I am. I'm Cheska Vega, the captain," I say. I keep my chin up, refusing to let him see the way my stomach is doing flips.

"I see." His eyes rake over the team before landing back on me. The intensity of his gaze feels like a physical weight. "I want you to discipline your members, Captain. Being cheerleaders for this university doesn't give you the right to be messy. Every single one of you has detention. Do you understand?"

My hands start to shake, but my pride flares up before the fear can take hold. I've had a long morning, and I'm tired of men trying to put me in my place.

"And who exactly are you," I snap, my voice low and sharp with irritation, "to be telling us what to do?"

He stops. He leans in just an inch, bringing the scent of expensive cologne and authority with him. He looks straight into my eyes, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

"I am Oliver Rivera. The new Dean of this university," he says.

The blood drains from my face. I feel a literal chill wash over me, turning my sweat into ice.

"I... I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't know-"

I start to stumble over my words, my confidence vanishing. He doesn't even wait for me to finish. He just turns on his heel and walks away, his stride composed and indifferent. He leaves me standing there, mouth slightly open, feeling like a fool.

Coach rushes over to me, her face a mask of shock and worry. She's saying something, but her voice is just white noise. My head is spinning. I'm already on the bad side of the man who holds my entire academic future in his hands.

I stare at the doors where he disappeared. First Damian, then Mr. Serrano, and now Oliver Rivera. It seems the list of men ready to make my life a living hell is only getting longer.