Liam shook his head, blinking, his brow furrowed. “A junior?” he repeated.
When Liam didn’t say anything else, Dr. Van Aller continued, this time glancing at Min before lowering his eyes to the table. He couldn’t even look her in the eyes anymore. She winced at the realization that her professor was recalibrating his opinion of her.
“Dr. Jacobs,” Noah said, with more emphasis than was necessary, as he gestured to Liam, “is the new chair of the opera program. Melynda, you’ll probably be in his opera history course this semester.”
She couldn’t breathe.
All the air had been punched out of her lungs and shecouldn’t breathe.
She glanced at Dr. Van Aller, her mouth hanging open as she realized the extent of what she’d just done. She hadn’t just begged her professor’sfriendto fuck her – she’d begged herprofessor.Her gaze darted erratically around the room as she tried to make sense of it. She caught Liam’s –Dr. Jacobs’ –eye. He looked as eviscerated as she felt.
She couldn’t stay here. Not when there was no more oxygen in the room. Not when Dr. Van Aller was soashamedof her. Not when Liam was sitting there, so perfect, the promise of all they could have been still fresh on his lips.
But all of that was gone now.
She didn’t speak as she grabbed her purse and stumbled out of the bar. She could hear Liam –Dr. Jacobs!– calling her name, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t sit there at that table with her theory professor and his friend, the new opera professor, who moments ago had his fingers inside her while he whispered the dirtiest things. Things he could no longer do, no matter how badly her body still wanted him.
She stood on the sidewalk unable to even think clearly enough to determine which direction she needed to walk in to get to the subway. Or maybe she should take a cab? It didn’t matter – she just needed to get home, to crawl into bed and pretend none of it had ever happened. Pretend she wouldn’t need to face those two men on campus on Monday.
Oh God.
Liam –fuck, Dr. Jacobs– burst out of the bar behind her.
“Min,” he said, the turmoil in his voice tearing at her.
“Don’t. Please,” she said without turning to face him.
How could she face him? If she saw regret in his face, she’d never recover. And, even worse, if she saw the longing in his eyes that she heard in his voice, she’d want to go to him, to touch him. And she couldn’t do that now. She couldn’t do that ever again.How am I going to see him in class, in rehearsal, and never touch him again?
“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “It never occurred to me –“
“Please,” she begged. How that word had changed in such a short amount of time. She glanced at him, desperate for him to stop. “I have to go.”
“Let me at least walk you to the subway. Or get you a taxi. Just don’t go running out of here like this. I need –“ he choked on the word. “I need to know you’ll get home safely.”
She took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the best night of her life abruptly taking such an awful turn. She should have known better. She should have known that girls like her didn’t get the happily ever after. That was reserved for thin girls, bubbly girls with big breasts, not girls whose thighs rubbed together when they walked. Not girls who would rather read Rilke than watch James Bond.
She turned to face him. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”
“You’re fine?” he repeated incredulously.
She exhaled a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “I mean, no, I’m notfine. But I can get to the subway on my own.”
He took a halting step towards her. “I didn’t know,” he said, his voice low and small.
Min nodded before looking back up to meet his eyes. How could he have known? She shrugged helplessly. “Me either.”
She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. How could the universe put this perfect man in front of her, let her taste him, let her know what his hands felt like on her body, how it felt for him to hold her in a crowded room, and then take him away, just out of reach?
Liam held out his hand. “Give me your phone.” When she hesitated, he huffed out a frustrated breath and continued in what she imagined was his professor voice. “I’m going to program in my number and you’re going to text me when you get home.”
“You don’t have to –“
“I do. I need to know you got home safely.” When she still didn’t comply, he softened his tone and his eyes. “Please.” The word broke in his throat.
Min lowered her eyes and dug her phone out of her bag, handing it to him. He programmed in his number and then pressed the phone back into her hand, his fingers lingering against her palm.
“Goodnight, Min,” he said.
