“I thought you usually went to The Pour House?”
“Yeah, well… I wanted to try somewhere else where maybe I wouldn’t…”
“Wouldn’t what?” I ask in a small voice.
“Run into you.”
Ouch. Even though it’s the exact reason I had forced Sam and Derek to come here tonight, I still feel a sharp sting in the middle of my chest. And yet, he’s the one to approach me.Again.
“Out of all the bars in Seattle, you came here?” I demand.
His eyes narrow. “My friend suggested it.”
“A Tuesday night for dancing?” I tease, lips curving.
“Is this your usual haunt for a weeknight?” he returns, voice warm with challenge.
“No, I also came here to avoid running into someone.”
Some unknown emotion flashes through his eyes, there and gone before I can pinpoint it. He crosses his arms, and anger flares through me. He could have left me alone. He didn’t have to talk to me. He didn’t have to start an argument, but he did.
Like a moth drawn to a flame.
“I’m sorry,” I say, needing to get away. “Should you even be talking to me right now?” I spin on my heel, ready to be finished with this conversation. I make my way to the side of the dance floor, where standing tables are scattered around. I set my now-empty martini glass on thetable with a clank.
I search the crowd for any sign of Sam or Derek, but come up empty. However, I do meet Asher’s intense stare. He followed me.
“I fucked up,” he says suddenly, and my heart drops like a stone. I had expected the back-and-forth. I had expected the banter. ButI did not think we would be having any sort of serious conversation. “Ibroke a lot of rules by kissing you. I probably broke even more rules by makinga move on you at the bar and not reporting what had already happened between us. I’ve crossed every moral line when it comes to appropriate student-teacher relationships, and I do apologize.”
My stomach plummets. The formality in his tone makes me feel sick. “We’re both at fault here,” I say with as much dignity as I can muster. Though each time we have one of these conversations, I grow more and more embarrassed.And yet, you can’t stop yourself from throwing yourself at him whenever you get a chance. “I’m an adult, and I can make my own choices. You didn’t force me into it or hold my grade over my head. I participated in those instances because I wanted to. But you’re right, going forward we probably shouldn’t allow that to happen any longer.”
His face falls, and I can’t help but get the feeling that he was hoping I’d push back instead of agreeing with him.
Then why did he say it?
“God, the beer here is disgustingly overpriced,” a deep voice yells over the music, interrupting whatever is happening between Asher and me.
An incredibly attractive man walks up to Asher before handing him a beer. He’s what I would imagine a modern Viking might look like. He is massive; he easily has over a foot on me and multiple inches on Asher. He has golden-brown hair that catches the light in its brightest strands. It’s shaved closer to the sides of his head and kept longer on top. He glances over at me, and I am immediately mesmerized by the pale blue of his eyes, like a lake that has frozen over. He has tanned skin, like he spends as much time outdoors as he can. And tattoos cover his skin, both arms, I’m assuming his chest, and there’s even some climbing up the sides of his neck. His biceps are huge—like he could bench-press-a-truck huge. He’s wearing a dark blue button-up that highlights his eyes in jarring contrast.
In short, he’s beautiful. Even more beautiful than Asher. The downside? He looks like he’s fully aware of how good-looking he is.
The man gives me an appreciative once-over, which earns a dirty look from Asher, before he offers me his hand. “My name’s Elijah, and you would be?”
“Going,” Asher grunts before I can introduce myself.
“Oh, don’t be a spoil sport.” Elijah pouts.
A dark, petty part of me wants to watch Asher squirm, so I reach my hand out to Elijah and give him my best smile. “I’m Summer.”
His large hand envelopes mine as he shakes it. “I feel like I’ve seen you before, Summer.”
Asher’s glare gets even more intense. “She’s at The Pour House a lot,” he mutters.
Elijah snaps his fingers. “That must be it.”
“Funny,” I muse. “I think I would remember seeing someone like you there.”
Asher grits his teeth, and Elijah chuckles. “Oh, you are trouble, Summer,” Elijah says, shaking his head at me.
