He scoffs, “I’m not talking about dating, I’m talking about fucking.”
I scrunch my nose at him. “Not like it matters at this point. He’s strictly off limits.”
“Doesn’t that make it hotter?”
I decide not to give him the satisfaction of answering that and instead opt for popping a fried mushroom into my mouth. I catch Sam eyeing a man at the bar and bite back a grin, hoping he’ll start chatting about the cute boy instead of our professor. Sam catches me looking at him as he openly ogles the stranger.
“That guy is cute, right?” he asks. “It’s not just the beer talking?”
“That’s your second beer,” I point out.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
I shrug. “He’s pretty cute.”
Sam sits up a bit straighter and gives the guy a flirty wave as they both check each other out. I drum my fingers on the table as I watch the exchange, making bets with myself on how long it’ll take before Sam makes some sort of excuse to get up and talk to the guy.
A twinge of jealousy settles in my stomach like acid. Why is it that the first guy that grabs my attention in years has to be my Counseling Theories professor? A better question is, why couldn’t my professor have been old? Or fat? Or ugly? Or all of the above? Instead, I’m cursed to spend the entire semester drooling over a chiseled, beautiful, perfect human specimen of a man.
I polish off another apple martini, the tart, fruity flavor washes over my tongue, easing the burn of liquor in the back of my throat. I can’t help but glance over at Professor Stirling. He’s drinking what I’m starting to believe is his signature dark beer and reading what appears to be a murder mystery novel.
Sam swirls his lemon drop around in its glass. “I dare you to talk to him.”
“Do you not remember the first day of his class? He has a very strict ‘don’t talk to me in public’ rule.”
“I think the guy could use his feathers getting ruffled,” Sam states as if this is a matter of great importance. He chugs the remainder of his drink and nods at someone over my shoulder. I look behind me and notice the cute blonde nursing a drink at the bar, still making eyes at Sam.
“Are you trying to get rid of me so you can go talk to that guy?”
“What?” Sam scoffs.
“What about Derek?” I ask, curiously.
Sam waves my statement away. “We’re not exclusive… but seriously, I do think it’d be really funny if you go bother Mr. Stick-up-his-ass.”
“One day he’s going to hear how you talk about him, and he’ll fail you,” I snort. “Which is another reason I don’t want to bother him. My GPA hangs in the balance.”
“I will pay for your entire bar tab if you speak a single sentence to him.” I don’t respond, and he nods at the nearly empty martini glass in my hand. “That’s your second tonight, and if you plan on having another, you’re just gonna rack up that bar bill.”
I narrow my eyes at him, hating that I’m considering his offer. “You just wanna see how mad he gets.”
“That is a high possibility.”
“Just go,” I laugh, shooing him away.
He gets up and gives me a slightly pathetic pat on the shoulder before making his way toward the guy at the bar. They’re already laughing together by the time Dave, the bartender, asks me if I’d like another martini. I nod my head and let my eyes drift back over to Professor Stirling.
Asher, my mind whispers to me. I sigh inwardly. I should never have looked up his profile on the school’s website.
He’s seated at a table closest to the pool table, and I start to wonder if he plays. It could be an innocent way to interact with him…
I chew on my lower lip as I mull over Sam’s dare. If Sam really does cover my tab for the night, paying for my food and drinks, then I could go thrifting for a TV stand.Nice excuse. Though I do need a TV stand, I know I’m also looking for any kind of reason to talk to Asher in a more relaxed setting.
Despite The Pour House being a dive bar in Seattle, any cocktails in this area are easily nearly twenty dollars per drink. I could suck it up and drink beer or wine, but I’m a sucker for thesweet-tart taste of an apple martini. Which often leads to a fairly high bar tab on my end.
I catch Dave’s eye and hold up two fingers, requesting two apple martinis. He gives me a mischievous smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the motion.
My knee bounces up and down as I wait anxiously for the drinks.The drinks that Sam is going to pay for.
