I gesture at the bartender for another round as I finish off my beer. “Please tell me you’re not considering dating one of your students,” I deadpan.
“No,” he gives me a devious grin. “But none of my students look likethat.”
“Okay, can we talk about literally anything else?”
“You wanna hear about my date last night? And twice this morning?” Elijah offers with a devilish smirk.
Summer’s laugh rings out from the other side of the room, and I can’t help but look. She crosses her legs, showing toned calves that are clearly the result of hard work. She throws her head back with a laugh, showing off perfect white teeth. The martini glass in her hand holds a concoction that’s a bright, unappetizing green.
Jared’s grin has only gotten wider since he noticed me looking her way again. The bartender drops off our second round, and Jared clears a laugh from his throat. “Look, I’ll just say one more thing on the matter.” I groan at him, but he keeps going. “If you happen to find yourself in a situation where you have a shot at that.” He gestures over his shoulder with his thumb. “No one has to know about it, so I say go for it.”
“You do know that is a gross misuse of power, right?”
“Only if you hold her grades over her head because she won’t put out,” he retorts, like I’m the one being unreasonable.
“That is not…” I shake my head, refusing to have this conversation any longer.
“I certainly wouldn’t tell anyone if you were to give me some insight on what a good student she is.” He shrugs innocently.
“Dude,” I say, exasperated.
“Okay, okay, I promise I’m done.”
He shoves more fries in his mouth before he starts going into how he thinks this semester will go for his class. I try to give him my full attention, but I keep finding my attention drawn back to Summer.
She’s watching as a boy scribbles something on a piece of paper for her friend while she smiles good-naturedly. She purses her lips before smoothing out her grin as her friend says something to the boy. I can’t help but notice that her lips form a perfect bow shape. She pulls her long blonde hair up into aponytail, and I can’t help the image that pops into my head of looking down at her while I hold her hair back from her face as she kneels before me.
Her eyes suddenly meet mine, and I’m suddenly worried that the lust I got caught up in is written all over my face as her eyebrows scrunch in recognition at me.
She slowly raises her hand and waves her fingers before turning back to her friend.
“Oof,” Jared snickers. “You’re in trouble, my friend.”
3
SUMMER
Professor Stirling goesto The Pour Housea lot. I’ve seen him there twice already. I start my second week of classes, wondering if maybe I need to find a new bar to frequent since I saw my professor there again last night. It makes me think maybe we’ve both been there before over the past few months, and we somehow haven’t noticed each other. I’m not sure how I wouldn’t notice someone who looks likehim.
No, definitely don’t go down that train of thought, Summer.
I can’t help it. A fantasy of meeting him before he was my professor flits through my mind as I wait for class to start. If I had crashed into him in the bar’s doorway instead of his classroom, would he have approached me in the bar after that? Offered to buy me a drink? Would I have been able to make him laugh? Would he have asked to see me again? There is some sort of age difference, but he doesn’t appear to bethatmuch older than me.
Maybe I’m thinking too highly of myself. We both go to that bar a lot, and I’ve seen him twice in one week. We both go alone. And obviously, we’ve never caught each other’s eye before.
Yesterday, though I noticed him the second I’d walked in, I had refused to look at him while I was there. He was sitting in the same spot he’d been at on Tuesday, and even though he was there before me, he stayed after I left. I could have sworn I felt him watching me leave, and traitorous butterflies erupted in my stomach.
I bounce my leg up and down as I continue thinking about what could have been. Maybe all the daydreaming of meeting in a different way is pointless. He would still be a professor at Cascadia University, and I would still be a student. He seems like the kind of stickler who always follows the rules; he probably would’ve ended it before it even began once he found out. I can’t say I’d blame him; it would be his career on the line, and if it were my future, I would do the same.
This is why this line of thinking is pointless, because nothing can come out of it anyway.
Professor Stirling finishes setting up a PowerPoint and stands to collect everyone’s essays. He’s the only professor that I’ve had in years who still requests we turn in physical copies. All my other professors have us submit assignments electronically. It makes me think that Professor Stirling must get a kick out of physically marking up students’ papers and giving them back with their grades circled in the top corner.
I cross my legs as he makes his way toward the first row, and I swear he catches the movement and grits his teeth in response. I make eye contact with his piercing green gaze, and a heat ignites deep in my belly.
I hastily look away and make sure not to let our fingers touch when I hand him my essay.
Sam leans over the aisle to whisper to me as Professor Stirling finishes collecting everyone’s assignments. “Are you heading to The Pour House today?”
