“Yeah,” I sigh. “She is.”
We continue to talk while Juliet bakes. I watch the sun dip below the horizon as Juliet tells me all about Terra, who apparently is being babysat by the elderly woman she’s leasing her cottage from. I’m about to reprimand her about letting strangers watch her kid before I remind myself that Juliet is an adult who is more than capable of making her own decisions. After the promise of pictures of my niece, Juliet wishes megoodnight, saying that she has to get home to Terra, and we both hang up.
I make my way to my desk and open up a browser on my laptop before hastily researching semi-decent mixers. I pick one in pink—Juliet’s favorite color—and send it her way. It feels like the least I can do after unloading on her. I snap the laptop shut and drag my sorry ass to bed.
The next day,I try my best to make it through class without looking at Summer, and I fail spectacularly. She, however, has managed not to look at me. I know she can feel my gaze on her because whenever I look her way, her cheeks pinken, which gives me a completely inappropriate smug sense of satisfaction. I also notice that today she’s chosen to wear a pair of high-waisted plaid pants with a short-sleeved turtle neck tucked into the waistband. My ego wants to convince me that she’s not wearing her signature skirts because of me, but I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.
My bad mood bleeds into my class, and I decide to assign them their midterm presentation early. Sam Mitchell shoots her an exasperated look, which she meets with a roll of her eyes.
I clear my throat. “You’ll be working in pairs on a presentation covering one of the major counseling theories from the class texts. This presentation is worth thirty percent of your overall grade. Please pair off now and feel free to use the remainder of class to get started on your presentations.”
I expect Summer to make a beeline for her friend, Sam, but before she can move, another student, Matt Edgewood, sidles up to her. He leans against her desk, crossing his arms and tilting his head toward her as he says something. She gives him a shy smile and nods, and I swear I can feel my blood boiling.
He holds out his hand, patiently waiting, as she pulls her phone from her bag and gives it to him. She puts her chin in her hand as he types his number in.
An unreasonable surge of jealousy shoots through me.
Summer starts to scribble something in her notebook, and I catch Matt shooting a wink across the class to one of his buddies. My hands curl into fists, fingernails digging into the soft skin of my palm. By the time Summer looks up at him again, he’s looking back at her and giving her a smarmy grin that she seems to miss.
I’m starting to regret allowing students to pair up, even though I’ve allowed it with this assignment since I started teaching this course. The idea of her spending hours each week with Matt over the next few weeks makes me nauseous. What if he flirts with her throughout the entirety of their project? What if he invites her over to his place? Suggests working alone in his room?
Every move I used on women when I was younger flashes through my head.
I know this shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, but I can’t help it. This ugly, envious feeling won’t dissipate.
It takes everything in me not to say that I’ll actually be choosing the partners. Instead, I let them get started and spend the rest of the time working on the project before I dismiss the class.
I grit my teeth while I watch Matt pack up his belongings before hurrying over to Summer and walking her out.
She doesn’t look at me once.
It feels like rocks are sitting in my stomach as I watch her leave the classroom.
I know that I can’t be with her. But the idea of watching another man flirt with her for the remainder of the semester sounds like absolute hell. Even though she can’t be mine… I can’t stomach the idea of her belonging to anyone else.
After finishing up the day,I texted the guys and asked them to meet me at The Pour House.
I know it’s a bad idea. An awful idea. And yes, I’m hoping she’ll be here.
I won’t talk to her. I won’t approach her. We won’t interact at all. I just want to see her for a bit longer today. Even if it’s just watching her laugh across the room at something her friend says. Or occasionally glancing over at her while she studies or works on her assignments.
I nearly come to a dead stop on the sidewalk when it occurs to me that she could’ve invited Matt to join her here after class. I run a frustrated hand through my hair as I debate whether to cancel on Jared and Elijah.
Does my desire for a beer outweigh my disgust at possibly seeing the woman I like on a date with another man?
I shake my head.Don’t be ridiculous.I march toward the entrance, set on having a much-needed beer with my friends and hopefully not seeing Summer with Matt.
I pull open the bar door and nearly slam right into a small blonde girl. My heart skips a beat as Summer looks up intomy eyes, her whiskey-colored irises catching the light from the rapidly fading sun. Relief floods through me, and a weight lifts off my chest when I confirm that Matt is nowhere to be seen.
“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” she mumbles as an adorable blush creeps up her cheeks.
I bite back a smile as I nod at her and Sam. “Miss Nyx. Mr. Mitchell.”
“Nice to see you, Professor Stirling,” he says with a grin. “Enjoy your night.”
They both slide past me, Summer’s scent of vanilla and lavender wafts over me, and I resist the urge to step closer to her. Holding my breath, I bolt inside.
I see Jared sitting at the table closest to the pool table, and he’s giving me a peculiar look. I plop down next to him and command myself not to look back at the door.
