Sam leans in and gives Derek a light kiss, and my bitter heart melts just a bit.
Sam has always been the opposite of me. He’s never been afraid to give his heart to others, and that’s always something I’ve admired about him. Though the idea terrifies me, and I’ve seen Sam heartbroken more than I can count, he loves so deeply that it wouldn’t surprise me if Sam had multiple great loves throughout his life. Looking at him now, with Derek, I hope this one lasts. There’s something different here. There’s an ease to their interactions that doesn’t come with just anyone, but with these two, it’s just natural.
I yell an excuse over the deafening music to the two guys before pushing my way through the sweaty throng of people toward the bar. I know I shouldn’t—risking a hangover tomorrow won’t be worth the eventual guilt trip from my mother—but I need another drink.
I reach the bar and wait patiently for the over-run bartender to notice me. I pull sticky strands of hair away from my neck and fan my face to try to cool myself off.
I order an apple martini just as a prickling sensation along my spine makes me straighten up. I feel his gaze before I see him.
Asher is here.What the fuck is he doing here?
I slowly turn and see him in the corner of the club, nursing a beer, and glowering at me. He’s at a table alone, wearing a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark jeans. I can feel the heat of his stare travel down my body, taking in my bare legs, before resting on my exposed cleavage.
Suddenly, I’m grateful that Sam and Derek forced me to change. Let Asher see what he’s missing out on. Especially since he obviously was trying to avoid seeing it.
I completely ignore the fact that I, too, was attempting to avoid running into him. The whole Halloween-bathroom-fiasco seems humiliating now. Especially since we’re both clearly attempting not to cross paths with each other, and God—my face flames at the reminder—how easy it was for him to send me completely over the edge. Fully clothed. Minimal touching.
Mortifying.
Just thinking about it makes me simultaneously want to repeat it and drop his class and never see him again.
Unfortunately, neither of those options is going to work for me.
So, I choose to ignore him. It’s a big club. There’s no need for either of us to talk to each other. I can stay on the dance floor when he grabs a drink, and once he clears out, I’ll grab a refill. Rinse, wash, repeat.
I pay for my martini and force my way through the crowd to Sam and Derek. They’re still plastered to each other but break away to shout excitedly when I return. Sam’s eyes flit over my shoulder, stopping on something before he breaks out into an excited smile.
Sam bumps my shoulder and wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Is that who I think it is?” he yells over the music while nodding his head in Asher’s direction.
“Don’t,” I say, immediately shutting him down.
“I’m just saying, what are the odds?”
“The odds of what?” Derek hollers next to us.
“Our professor is here!”
“At a club?” Derek asks incredulously. “Aren’t they all old?”
“He’s not that old,” I respond defensively.
“Yeah,” Sam says with a devious smirk. “One might say he’s the perfect age for someone looking for a partner with a little more maturity.”
I give Sam my best I’m-going-to-murder-you glare, but he studiously ignores me.
Derek asks Sam to grab him another drink while he runs to the restroom before disappearing into the mob behind him. Sam turns to me and gives me a knowing smile.
“Whatever you’re about to say,” I start. “I want you to really think it over and decide if it’s a good idea.”
Sam widens his eyes, feigning a look of innocence. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” Then he’s gone, heading toward the bar.
I awkwardly sway back and forth, unsure of myself now that I’m standing in a crowd alone.Ugh, I should’ve suggested we go literally anywhere else. I hate dancing.
“You have got to be kidding me,” a familiar deep voice sounds behind me, sending tingles along my spine. Sam hasn’t even been gone for a full minute.
I spin around and come face-to-face with my professor. “What are you doing here?” I ask indignantly. I hate that I came out to a club of all places when I could have been sitting comfortably in my booth at the bar, and Asher clearly wouldn’t have been there.
“I came here for a drink,” he grumbles.
