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I smooth down at the A-line denim skirt she persuaded me to wear because it’s the most vintage-looking item in my wardrobe.
We reach the Campus Café, which has an interior that reminds me of a burlesque bar. Red walls, hardwood floors, and booths upholstered in red velvet. At one end is the barista bar and at the far end is a stage with its curtains drawn.
Under Pressureby David Bowie plays in the speakers, and I’m guessing that when this CD has finished, they’ll move onto one of his earlier works to get people ready for the band.
The place is nearly deserted, with a few people hunched over a laptop at a booth close to the drinks. Four others stand at the bar, already being served.
I inhale the mingled scents of coffee, steamed milk, and cinnamon that reminds me it’s been ages since I’ve treated myself to anything hot and caffeinated.
“Don’t you think we’re a little bit too early?” I mutter as we join the line.
“Hey.” She nudges me in the arm. “At least we’ll get great seats.”
We both order Baileys lattes, which contain just enough alcohol to make the journey down here worthwhile.
I let her pull me toward the booth closest to the stage. It’s not like I have plans for Saturday because this is only my second weekend without my real dad, and my Sugar Daddy canceled at the last minute. I may as well broaden my horizons.
“So…” Charlotte elongates the syllable. “What’s he into?”
“Huh?” I suppress a smile. She’s clearly talking about Professor Segul.
“Come on, you’ve been avoiding me since Saturday. I know you spent the night with him because I heard you stumble back on Sunday.”
I make a mental note not to walk in broken stilettos.
A few juicy details won’t hurt. I just have to make sure not to give any clues to his identity.
“Alright,” I say with a shrug. “We spent Saturday night at his place, but I didn’t want to say anything unless he turned out like the last guy.”
“What’s his name?” she asks with a giggle.
“I have to call him sir.”
Her eyes widen. “No.”
I nod, my lips lifting into a smile.
“It’s no wonder you were keeping him under wraps. Is this some kind of Fifty Shades thing?”
My gaze meets Charlotte’s. Her hazel eyes shine with excitement, and the feeling is contagious. Even thinking about him makes my insides flutter, which is stupid because this is an arrangement, not a relationship.
“Put it this way,” I murmur into my steaming cup of coffee. “If he wrote the book the way he fucks, it would be too hot for the printing press.”
I bite down on my bottom lip. Technically, we haven’t yet fucked, but I can’t exactly explain what he can do with inanimate objects.
Charlotte throws her head back and squeals. “You’re so bad.”
“Well, I don’t want everyone knowing what I’m into.” I glance around the rapidly filling café. “You know what people are like around here.”
“Hypocrites, you mean?” she asks.
My ears prick up. “Huh?”
“I saw the footage of the mob that gathered yesterday in the upstairs hallway. They’re all bitching about cancelling Professor Segul when half the girls want to fuck him.”
My nose wrinkles at the memory of Thalia Grace and her cousins trying to tempt him with lollipops. “Really?”
“You don’t think he’s hot?”
