After the queen has finished her breakfast, I plug in my phone and wait for it to boot back up. I see an apology text from Sam for leaving the bar without me. I fire back a text that it’s nothing, and he responds with the eye emojis. I sigh, knowing he’s fishing for anything on Asher—Professor Stirling—and I decide to never tell anyone about it. No one needs to know that my Counseling Theories professor had to take me home and put me into bed.
I collapse on my bed with a groan. How am I going to face him in class on Monday?
Another text from Sam pings on my phone.
Sam:
Let’s go out for drinks 2night and you can spill the
Hot embarrassment flushes my cheeks at the idea of even considering going back to the Pour House.
I plan never to go back to that bar and to keep my head down in class for the remainder of the semester. I respond after Sam sends a few more emojis.
Can we go literally anywhere else?
Mama’s Tacos?
His response comes so fast that I have a hard time believing he actually read my message.
15?
I finish showering and am throwing on leggings and a sweater when my mother calls.
“Hello?” I answer, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder while I lace up my combat boots, a struggle considering how snug the fit is with the bandage wrap.
“When are you coming home to visit?” my mother asks without preamble.
“When I have the time?” I offer.
“Which will be?” she questions, the end of her sentence trailing off.
I sigh. “When I’m not drowning in classwork? Maybe… Thanksgiving break?”
She scoffs, and I immediately know it was the wrong thing to say. “Thanksgiving break?” Her voice has risen in pitch. “That’s months away, Summer.”
“And home is five hours away. That’s not a quick drive, Mom.”
“Did you have to pick a grad program so far away?”
“I could’ve gone farther,” I point out as I pet Milo goodbye. “Denver had an excellent program, but I just couldn’t live with myself if I’d abandoned you to live all alone in a state without me.”
“One of these days, your sarcasm is going to get you into loads of trouble.”
“Who says it hasn’t already?” I snicker, locking my door behind me. I can practically hear my mother gritting her teeth. “Look, Mom,” I sigh. “I promise to try and come home as soon as I have a second to breathe, okay?”
My mother finally concedes and says goodbye.
I make it down the block in record time, even though every step makes me wince. I manage to snag a corner booth amongst the lunch-rush crowd.
Sam waltzes through the door. “The regular?” he calls as he passes by the booth, making his way toward the counter to order. I nod, but he’s already across the restaurant.
I tap my fingers on the glossy tabletop as I watch Sam chatting with the worker—hopefully ordering our food, but most likely flirting.
My thoughts start to drift to thoughts of Asher—dammit, Professor Stirling.Had he been flirting with me last night?Do I want him to have been flirting? It was entirely unacceptable, and I was probably imagining things where there were none, and yet… I can’t get his laugh out of my head. His muttering, ‘At a later date,’ is living rent-free in my mind and sending a swarm of butterflies through my stomach. Though I doubt he’ll approach me to offer to buy me a drink, again, it’s completely inappropriate, but that won’t stop me from hoping he will. Maybe he’ll just send a drink over to me, and he won’t speak to me. Or maybe he’ll ask to play another game of pool after he buys me a drink. Maybe?—
“How was the rest of your night?” Sam asks, plopping down and startling me.
“What?” I blurt, my voice cracking as if I’ve been caught red-handed.
