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I unlock it, but before I open it, I look back at him. “You might like me if you stop fighting.”
Clenched white teeth are visible behind his parted lips, and his eyes drink in my body. The cropped sweater I’m wearing leaves little to the imagination. I’m not wearing a bra, and my nipples are pointed. Straightening, I slide my hand over the bare strip of exposed skin, wishing it was his hand.
Without another word, I leave his office and exit the building, falling back against the limestone exterior as energy hums in my veins. He didn’t give me much, but he showed me more than he ever has before.
He doesn’t just like me, he wants me, and I wonder how I’ll survive until I see him again.
9
Dirk
Grabbingmy coat off the back of my chair, I head out into the waning twilight, hands shoved in my pockets, thinking I’ll have a drink at the Den then head to my place and pack. I don’t have classes tomorrow, and I’ve decided I will take Hana up on her suggestion that I drive back to Hamiltown this weekend.
It’ll be good to be around family, get some perspective, have a few familial hugs. Perhaps this is homesickness.
“We meet again, Professor Winston.” Sharon jogs up to my side. “You seem pissed. Don’t tell me, Dr. O’Toole is being a tool again?”
A tight laugh huffs from my chest. “I thought I was the only one who called him that.”
“It’s a rare thing when someone’s personality so closely matches his or her name. It definitely adds credence to the theory that one's name impacts one’s social development.”
“I think this is a topic best left to the linguistic anthropologists.”
“Really? I thought it fell more along the lines of nature versus nurture.”
“You never told me the topic of your graduate thesis.” We’re at the Husky Den, and I hold the door for her.
“The role of sex and perceived opportunity in the career choices of men versus women.”
“Phew, that’s a mouthful,” I chuckle. “So Jung versus Freud?”
The bar is crowded for a Thursday evening, and I follow her to our usual spot, waving to the student bartender. “A double bourbon on the rocks, and a…”
“Dog Pack Pale Ale,” Sharon calls over the noise, and the guy nods, turning quickly to fill our order. “To answer your question, more like Freud and Jung working together to demonstrate to what extent both theories play a role in the choices we make.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“It’s mostly surveys, trying to get students to remember messages they received in childhood and comparing that to their choice of major.”
“Still, interesting.” A tumbler is placed in front of me and a pint glass for Sharon. I pass my card to the guy. “Leave it open.”
Sharon lifts her glass, turning her back to the bar and surveying the crowd. “Every semester it’s the same. The more weeks pass, the more crowded it gets in here. I stop coming after fall break.”
“Good to know.” I raise my voice, thinking I won’t have a voice by tomorrow.
Lifting the tumbler to my lips, the warm liquid hits my tongue and high-pitched cheers and clapping draw my attention to the back area of the bar where pool tables are arranged.
I almost choke when I see her. She’s still dressed in those tight jeans and that short sweater, and my mind goes instantly, rebelliously to lifting her round tits.
She’s holding a short glass of clear liquid, and that fucker Evan is beside her, holding a pool cue and leaning in to whisper something in her ear. She waves him away, going to stand beside a smaller girl with light blonde hair.
Red floods my vision, and I turn to the bar, taking another, longer sip of whiskey. Sharon said he’s harmless. She claims the girls all know he’s a player, but still, jealousy fires in my blood. The thought of his hands on her bare skin nearly sends me over the edge.
Sharon turns to the bar, leaning into my shoulder. “Freud would have a field day on college campuses.”
I huff a bitter laugh. “He had a field day in Vienna.”
“Yes, but this is the perfect setting to validate all his wildest theories. It’s a hotbed of sexual desires and frustrations.”
