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Owen shoved his papers back into his briefcase and stood.
“C’mon then, before you starve to death,” he joked.
I stood as well, stacking my papers up on the edge of his desk to work on later.
We filed out of his office and paused only long enough for Owen to lock the door, then headed down the hall until we made it to the main hallway that led through the building.
Once we stepped out into the deep humidity outside, I listened to Owen curse at the ‘chewable air’ as he hurried to the only car left on the street next to the English building.
“Where to, Professor?” I asked him.
He side eyed me while unlocking the car.
“Depends. How old are you, Mia?”
“Twenty-three,” I admitted, blushing even though I didn't know why I was turning red.
He reached across the soft top of his Porsche convertible and wiggled his fingers.
“Give me your ID.”
I lifted an eyebrow, but went along, digging my wallet out of my backpack to hand him my drivers license.
“Hm, good,” was all he said after a glance, flicking the card back over the car toward me. “In that case, we’re going to Muddy Waters.”
I’d heard of the place, but hadn’t gone, despite the fact that it was the best sports bar in the area and I’d been going to college in Columbus for going on four years. Clea had gone several times with boys on dates there, and she loved the place, so I was excited to finally go, especially since I wasn’t paying.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Owen said once we were both inside the car.
I was busy trying not to touch anything and just admiring the perfectly bright white interior to match the color of the paint.
“I’ve been keeping you quite a lot. Are you doing ok with your own classes?”
I glanced over to him, clasping my hands between my thighs to keep my fingers to myself.
“I’m fine, Professor Harlo,” I told him with a little smile. “Besides. You’re not my guidance counselor. I’m a big girl and I can handle my own business.”
He passed a side glance at me again, this time while he drove, pulling out into the street.
“I’m very aware,” he murmured, so quiet I barely heard him.
There was a pregnant pause, then he went on as if the comment had never happened.
“You’re a grown up, but I’m faculty at the school, Mia. Last thing I want is for you to work so hard as my TA that your grades drop.”
“I’ve got enough time for homework, if that’s what you’re worried about. My roommate on the other hand, is tired of me skipping out on my night of making dinner though, so there’s that. Can you help a girl out with that?”
He barked out a laugh.
“What the hell do you think I’m doing right now?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow in amusement.
“Trying to win my favor,” I told him. “I’ve got a feeling you’re buttering me up for something. Maybe putting together a midterm. You buttering me up, Professor Harlo?”
“Owen, for God’s sake,” he groaned. “You keep calling me professor and I’m going to start feeling like a pervert for taking out a student.”
My body jolted up in the seat. He made it sound like a date…but… No, it wasn’t a date. Just a dinner of appreciation.
“Here we go,” he murmured as we pulled into the parking lot of an already hopping bar.
