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“Of course I want you, Ruby. You’re so hot you put fire to shame. But we won’t do this when you have a single drop of alcohol in your system. If you want this, I want it to be your choice.”
I’m afraid she’ll be mad at me, but she nods, sitting up and running her hand over her face. She’s breathing heavily.
“You’re right. You’re right. I’m not sinking—I’m not thinking straight. Thanks for being reshpectful. Respectful. Damn it, I’m drunk. I... I don’t know what I want right now. I mean, I want you, but would it make things weird between us forever? Your friendsip—fiendshrip—uh, that word I can’t say... meansh a lot to me.”
She stands up, and I join her. I want her so bad I hurt, but I will not ever take advantage of any woman, and especially not Ruby James.
“I should go. Thank you for telling me, and I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” I kiss her on the forehead. “Are you all right?”
She smiles wryly. “Better now. Thank you.”
I leave her, and as I’m making my way off the campus, I swear to myself, on my life, that I will find a way to make Alex Nass pay for all of the things he’s done to her.
22
RUBY
“He sent you flowers,” Clair trills. “And a package. How incredibly romantic.” She’s just accepted a giant bouquet of pink roses and baby’s breath in a crystal vase, and a small package wrapped in brown paper.
“Maybe they’re for you,” I suggest. My stomach is queasy and my head throbs gently with a hangover that I totally deserve. I know better than to down an entire bottle of wine in one sitting. Damn Professor Ass-face. My hangover is yet another thing I can blame on him.
“Not unless my name is Ruby James.” She hands me the vase, grabs the envelope from the vase, and starts to open it. I snatch it from her and set the vase down on my desk.
“Rude,” she huffs.
Honestly, even more than the flowers, I appreciate the fact that Paxton didn’t take advantage of me last night and didn’t make me feel stupid or bad about it. I set the vase down and read the note.
“From your darling pooky-face. (Not Prick Fuckton.)” I burst into laughter, which hurts my aching hungover head. “Open package right away,” the note continues. “You’ll need it. And don’t worry about The Evil One. We’ll take him down together.”
I open the manila package to find several packets of a powdered hangover remedy and a bottle of aspirin.
I grab a bottle of water from the bed and down two aspirin and the hangover remedy. “Wow,” Clair says admiringly. “He’s the perfect man. My boyfriend never sends me flowers. He did send me a variety pack of flavored lube and some fuzzy handcuffs, though.”
“TMI,” I inform her.
“Prude.”
“I just think some things should stay private.” I rub my temples. “I’m going to go take a shower and wash yesterday off me completely. I’m sorry I was so weird, by the way.”
“It’s okay, we’re used to it,” she says cheerfully. That does not make me feel any better. The professor has screwed with enough of my life; he doesn’t deserve to come between me and my friends.
By the time I come back from the shower, feeling refreshed and with my hangover having faded, Clair is gone and I’m left alone to do some serious thinking.
Paxton is vowing that we’re going to take the professor down, and that’s sweet of him, but Paxton and I don’t have much more time of our fake relationship scheduled.
He’s still not someone I feel like I can trust completely. He disappeared on me once, and got really bitchy with me, without a word of explanation. He might do it again. As someone who’s lost both of their parents, I don’t do well with people who bail on me.
I can’t depend on him to help me with Professor Nass-hole. If I start really thinking of us as a unit, if I feel like I need his help to stick up for myself, it will weaken me.
I won’t let that happen. I can’t depend on other people. They tend to leave you and let you down. Well, everyone except my older sister, but she has her own life and I’m a grown-ass woman who needs to be able to deal with things on her own.
I also can’t just sit there and let the professor run right over me like this.
Alex has office hours today. I’m going to go have a word with him, and it won’t be a nice word. There will be four letters in it.
I spend half an hour deciding what to wear. I definitely don’t want to dress sexy, because I don’t want him to think I’m interested in him in any way. I don’t want to dress frumpy, though, because I have my pride.
It’s hot as balls out, too, so I don’t want to wear any of my “I mean business” business suits.
