Asher turns a page in his book, and his stunning, forest green eyes dart across the words. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and I can feel any last bit of resolve fade away.
Iwantto talk to him.
Dave drops off the two drinks, and I take a huge gulp of one before straightening up and practically marching over to Professor Stirling.
He looks up, briefly surprised, before seeing that it’s me and gritting his teeth. I almost take a step back at his expression, but his voice anchors me in place. “I thought I made it very clear that I didn’t want students approaching me in bars on the first day of class, Miss Nyx.”
I take another sip of my drink. For courage.
“See, I don’t think you can reprimand students for saying hi to you outside of class,” I say.
“Is that all you’re doing?”
“What else would I be doing?”
He raises an eyebrow in response.
“You play pool?” I ask, nodding toward the pool table.
“Not with students,” he mumbles, taking a healthy sip of what’s left of his beer before flipping open his book again.
“You’ve never played pool with a single student?” I ask unbelievingly. He doesn’t respond. “I guess that makes sense, you’ve been a professor for what? All of a year?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m young, but not that young.”
“How old are you?”
“Not important.”
“Sounds like something an old person would say.”
He purses his lips. “Thirty-six.”
“Older than I thought,” I say, but for some reason, it comes out sounding impressed. He ignores me. I try to push aside the small voice in my head that’s sayingthirty-six isn’t that far off from twenty-eight.“So in thefouryears that you’ve been a professor, you’ve never played pool with a student?”
“No,” he says without looking up from his novel, though I see his lip twitch.
“Are you afraid you’re gonna get hustled?” I ask sympathetically. “Old joints and all that?”
He sighs and closes the book, a sparkle in his eye. “Are you going to leave me alone at any point, or is the incessant arguing going to continue?”
“You think this is arguing?” I ask, pointing back and forth between us. Another smile threatens to crack his hard-ass persona. A little shot of confidence zips up my spine, straightening my posture at the idea that he could be enjoying himself. “Man, we must have had way different childhoods growing up.”
“Did you really come over here to ask your Counseling Theories professor to play pool?” he asks, leaning forward on his elbows.
“You want the honest answer?” I ask, and he hesitates before nodding. “My friend bribed me to come over and bother you by offering to pick up my entire bar tab.”
He raises both eyebrows, seemingly impressed, but eyes the two drinks in my hands. “Crazy night?” he questions.
“More like a peace offering,” I respond, setting the untouched drink in front of him. He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “An apple martini felt like the closest I could get to offering my teacher an apple.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle, and his tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek as he resists yet another smile. I raise my glass to my lips, and his darkening eyes track the movement and rove over my throat as I take a sip of the sweet drink.
His green eyes pierce into mine as he reaches for the glass I set in front of him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a drink before he sets the glass down with an audible clink. His tongue darts out to catch a stray drop of liquid, and his eyes flutter shut as he savors the taste.
Suddenly, my mouth feels dry, and I have to clear my throat.
“Tell you what,” I continue, even though it feels like he hasn’t spoken in forever. “If you beat me in one round of pool… I’ll add your drinks to my tab and my friend can pay for both of us.” Normally, I would have called this a win and told Sam I’d met my part of the deal, but Asher’s reactions… there’s something about them that’s egging me on.
