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“I changed my mind about yours. Look at you. You’re a mess.”
“Fine,” Becca mutters. “Scotch tastes like smelly assholes, anyway.” I open my mouth to comment, but she whips her head around and glares at me before I get a word out. “Don’t even say it, Sullivan. So, did your grandfather like scotch?”
“Something like that.” I chuckle, rubbing my jaw in amusement.
“Tell her the whole story,” Jake orders. He turns back to Becca, before I get the chance. “Pops used to mix some scotch into Grammy’s tea every afternoon, all six or seven of them. We only found out when she came to stay with us after he died, and Mom made her a tea. She spat it back out in the cup and kept ranting on about the tea being off. We eventually worked out that Pops used to add a little something extra to hers.”
“We figured it was probably because it gave him some peace and quiet,” I add with a chuckle.
“Oh my God, that’s great.” Becca giggles. “Hey, maybe I should try that on my mother.”
“Becca’s parents are…interesting,” Jake explains to me when I raise my eyebrows.
“Interesting is a nice way of phrasing it,” Becca scoffs. “Mom was almost going to be here tonight, but luckily, Dad broke his foot at the last minute.”
I chuckle. “Yeah. Lucky.”
“So…” Jake glances sideways at Becca, and then back at me. I know from the look in his eyes, this isn’t going to be good. “These messages Becca sends you in class, do you remember any more of them?”
I laugh. “Remember them? I’m pretty sure I took screenshots of most of them.”
“What? You better be joking. Isn’t that a privacy violation?” she retorts, crossing her arms over her chest. She shoots Jake a look. “And I didn’t send them to him, thank you very much.”
“Which is exactly why it wouldn’t be a violation of your privacy if he shared them with me,” Jake explains. “I mean, they weren’t exactly private messages if they showed up on his computer. And even if they were, I imagine you’d have signed a disclaimer.”
“You did,” I confirm. “But you were probably too busy messaging Amy to realize what you were signing,” I tease, smirking at her. “And the screenshots are just in case I need to take out a sexual harassment claim against you.” I pause for effect. “Because one might consider you telling Amy that you want me to ‘jerk it where you twerk it’ harassment.”
“Only I didn’t send that to you,” she retorts, her face going red. “I sent it to my friend in a private conversation.”
“Technically you did send it to me, because all messages sent in that room go to me. It’s kind of silly on your part to assume that nobody else was going to see them, don’t you think?” I raise my eyebrows at her. “Or maybe that was your intention all along? For all I know, that could’ve been your very roundabout way of hitting on me.”
Her eyes flash. “Are you kidding me? You think I’m that juvenile? Why don’t I just write you a poem and slip it under your office door too, while I’m at it?”
“That was you?” I gasp, staring at her in horror. “Let me guess. The rose petals in my bed: You as well?”
“No, if that were me it would’ve been a dead rat,” she growls. “Don’t flatter yourself, Professor. Not everyone thinks your God’s gift to women.”
“Maybe not, but we’ve already established you do.”
She mutters something under her breath and gets to her feet. I know I’m pushing her buttons, but I’m having so much fun doing it.
“You’re leaving already?” I tease. “Though I guess being around all these half-naked women must be making you uncomfortable.”
“Not really. You’re being enough of a dick to balance everything out,” she retorts. “And don’t worry, I’m not leaving. I just don’t want to miss the show.”
She winks at me and then walks over to where the guys are watching two strippers dry hump each other on stage. I laugh and watch her flop down into a chair, an angry expression on her face. She fishes through her bag for her phone and furiously taps out a message. No doubt to Amy, telling her what an ass I’m being.
“So, tell me again how you’re not into my friend?”
I smirk at Jake and reach over to ruffle his hair. I’d forgotten he was there.
“Don’t be an ass, Jake. Respect your elder’s and don’t ask questions,” I tell him.
“Fine. Just try not to wind her up too much, okay? Because it’s going to be me who never hears the end of it.” He shakes his head and laughs.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I chuckle.Chapter FourBecca“He’s fucking infuriating.”
I shake my head and stare at my reflection in the mirror of the bathroom—the only place where I can get five minutes of peace to make a private phone call.
