Semi-fantasizing about my Counseling Theories professor is wrong. But Sam doesn’t need to know anything about that.
He gives me a shit-eating grin, like I’m a mouse and he’s a cat that has me stuck under his paw. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, ready to toy with me. “I was just asking how the rest of your night went?” he asks, innocently. “You know, I left you playing pool with Professor Stirling and a completely paid-for bar tab.”
“Ah.” I nod as if I’d forgotten. “Right, he thanks you for the free drinks.”
“Did he appreciate the tequila shot?” He leans across the table, giving me a mischievous smirk.
“Doubtful.”
“Didyouappreciate the tequila shot?” he counters.
“Considering I barely made it home last night? Not this time.”
“Wait.” His grin widens. “Did you almost go home with our professor?”
“First of all, lower your voice,” I start.
“This is a totally respectable volume to speak at.”
“And it’s still too loud when throwing out completely inaccurate scenarios.” He rolls his eyes but waves his hand at me so that I’ll continue. “Second of all, absolutely not.”
“Didhealmost go home with you?”
Images of Asher helping me into my apartment flash through my head, and my traitorous face heats, flushing my cheeks. “No,” I state, deciding to leave out the fact that he did give me a ride home. It’s none of Sam’s business, and it won’t happen again, so there’s no point in bringing it up.
While I trust Sam, there’s a selfish part of me that wants to keep my interaction with Asher all to myself.
“I thought we promised to always be honest with each other,” he teases, batting his eyelashes at me.
The waiter drops off queso and guac with chips, shrimp tacos for me, and steak tacos for Sam, along with two large margaritas. I lick some of the salt off the rim and take a sip before responding. “We did, and I am.” Guilt gnaws at my stomach with the lie.
He takes a healthy bite of one of his tacos before speaking through a mouthful of food. “Fine, don’t tell me.” He takes another bite and washes it down with the margarita beforecontinuing. “So,” he draws out, poking at the guac with a tortilla chip. “I have a date with Derek tomorrow.”
“Does he know you’re going home with random boys from the bar?”
“No,” he snaps defensively, tossing the chip at me. “And it’s not relevant.”
I wipe guac off my sweater and roll my eyes at him. “Just curious what kind of relationship this whole thing is gearing up to be.”
“So far it’s going good, but not good enough to swear off all other men,” he sniffs.
I wince. “Is he swearing off other men?”
Sam freezes, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. “We haven’t discussed it.”
“Do you think he could be?”
“Oh god,” he groans before putting his face in his hands. “Could he be?”
“Look.” I pause to take a bite of queso. “It’s okay to date other people, but it’s only fair to make sure he knows that’s what you want so that he has the same opportunities.”
“You’re right,” he mumbles, swirling his margarita around. “Do I have to tell him that I’ve been sleeping around with other people? Or can I just ask if he is?”
I pat his hand sympathetically. “I think the polite thing to do would be to tell him. I would want to know if someone I was seeing was seeing other people.”
“Ugh!” he moans. He lets his head rest on the table before peeking at me with one eye. “Speaking of you dating?—”
“I am not dating,” I cut him off.
