Chapter 74 Bastian
Bastian
Rain hammers on the Tesla’s roof. It would have been soothing if the odd gust of wind didn’t buffet it against the windows in uneven bursts. Or maybe that’s just nerves fraying.
Alfredo’s parking lot is half-empty, the restaurant’s Sunday brunch crowd thinning as three o’clock approaches. I check my watch again, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel.
Parker was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. Along with four nonexistent students who’d expressed interest in the ‘study group’ that doesn’t actually exist.
I fabricated the entire thing just for Parker’s sake, and even then, she only confirmed late yesterday that she’d be joining the study group.
Looks like she changed her mind.
I’m about to start the car when a gleaming white Aston Martin pulls into the lot, the engine’s purr cutting off as it parks three spaces away.
Melissa Parker steps out, designer sunglasses perched on her nose despite the rain.
She’s wearing a tailored blazer in pale pink over a cream-colored dress, her sleek red hair falling in a perfect curtain down to her collarbones.
The umbrella she whips out is gold, and probably from some designer too.
So different from Haven’s wavy hair and thrift store rags. Polished, where Haven is raw. Controlled, where Haven is such a delicious hot mess.
So not my fucking type.
I exit my car, standing near the hood in the pouring rain as Parker turns to lock her car and make sure she has all her things with her.
As she turns to the restaurant, I walk to the passenger side and toss my satchel onto the seat, slamming the door with unnecessary force.
The loud bang makes Parker turn, her hand flying to her chest in surprise.
“Professor Rooke!”
I walk around the front of the car, opening the driver’s side door as if I’m about to climb in, pretending not to notice her while watching from the corner of my eye.
“Professor Rooke!” She totters over to me in her heels, umbrella balanced above her head to keep off the rain.
I look up, shaking my head as I make a show of spotting her coming toward me.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she says as she stops a few feet away. “Traffic was—”
“Save it,” I cut her off with obvious irritation, wiping rain off my face. “No one else even bothered to show up.”
Her heels click rapidly as she ventures even closer. That’s when she seems to realize I’m rapidly approaching drenched and steps even closer, trying to keep us both under her umbrella. “The others aren’t coming?”
“I’ve already wasted twenty minutes,” I mutter, staring down my nose at her. She’s taller than Haven, especially with her heels. “I refuse to waste more on students who apparently don’t give two shits about their education.”
“I texted that I’d be late,” she protests, pulling out her phone as if to prove it.
“How kind of you.” I glance toward the restaurant, then back at her, letting my disgust show. “This is exactly what’s wrong with your generation. No commitment. No follow-through.”
Parker shifts uncomfortably, her perfectly manicured fingers fidgeting with the umbrella’s handle. “We could still go in? Just the two of us?”
“What’s the point?” I rake a hand through my now wet hair, deliberately mussing it.
“I had an entire discussion planned. Notes prepared. This would have given all of you a significant advantage on your finals.” I shake my head, letting out a bitter laugh.
“But right now, I’m seriously questioning my future in academia if this is the level of dedication I can expect. ”
She props her sunglasses on top of her head, baring bronze eyes clad in immaculate makeup. Every inch of her face has been perfectly contoured, bronzed, highlighted, Christ knows what else. And for what? The skin underneath looks flawless.
Someone has made her feel inferior for a very long time. The makeup is her attempt to fool them into thinking she is, in fact, perfect in every way.
“Professor, please. I came all this way—”
I narrow my eyes. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”
She winces at my tone. “That’s not what I—“
“I’m going home.” Our bodies brush as I turn to get into my car. “I’m going to pour myself a massive glass of wine and reconsider why I bother trying to elevate minds that clearly have no interest in being elevated.”
Rain briefly slams into my face as I get into my Tesla. Melissa hurriedly steps aside so I can close the door, teetering precariously on her heels before finding her balance.
One...two...three...
“Professor, wait!”
I wind down the window, but I don’t look at her.
Let her stew for a moment and consider her options.
As much as she tries to hide it with that inflated self-confidence, there’s a people pleaser lurking deep inside Parker. It begs for validation every time that slim hand shoots up the moment she knows the answer to a question. It’s blatant in how put together she is—neat, perfect, pleasing.
Her childhood must have been teeming with designer toys and thoroughbred ponies. Pop stars flown in for every birthday since she was three. But she paid for that privilege with parental neglect and oh-so conditional love.
“Please,” she continues, her voice taking on the tone of someone whose worst nightmare is rejection. “I was really looking forward to this.”
“You didn’t seem that keen when I asked about it on Thursday,” I say dryly, giving her a condescending tilt of my head.
“I…wasn’t sure if I’d already made plans,” she blatantly lies.
Something she’ll pay for dearly when I finally convince her to get in my fucking car.
And it better be soon, because the longer she stands out there, the higher the chance someone will spot the two of us together.
“You missed your calling, Miss Parker. Could have won an Academy Award for your performance.”
She’s getting annoyed, but desperately suppressing it.
I’m not.
“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” I say, winding up the window. As I’m throwing my arm around the passenger headrest to scan the back windshield, Melissa’s shadow appears at the window.
She taps her nails against the glass until I wind down the window, then ducks down to speak to me, giving me a glimpse of her pale cleavage when gravity tugs down the front of her dress. Those tits aren’t anything like Haven’s either. I’m guessing neither is her cunt.
“Don’t punish me for those assholes,” she says, sounding a little snippy. “I’m late, but at least I showed up.”
I sigh theatrically. “If you’re serious, then…” I wave a hand to the passenger side seat, with my other hand. “I guess you’re welcome to join me. But please don’t waste my time if you’re just trying to score free alcohol. I’ve just about had it with you kids for one day.”
I watch the internal struggle play out across her face. It’s the same one Haven fought that first week of school.
A battle both girls lose.
“Fine,” she huffs out.
I unlock the door, but she hesitates with one slender leg in, the other still planted outside.
“Is that…” Her nose wrinkles faintly as she studies the passenger seat. It’s hardly visible on the red leather after I gave it a quick scrub the other day, but there are still traces of Haven’s body paint smeared over the upholstery.
“Don’t worry, it won’t stain.”
She looks at me like she wouldn’t trust me to dry clean her gym clothes if someone held a gun to her head.
“Christ. I’ll replace your entire wardrobe if you get so much as a smudge on your beautiful dress.”
There it is.
The faintest little flush on her cheeks.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she says airily. “This is Chanel.”
Like I give a fuck.
I try to make my smile less stiff as she reluctantly slides into the seat beside me, her designer perfume filling the car with notes of jasmine and something even sweeter beneath. She turns to shake out her umbrella before putting it down at her feet.
She turns to give me a nervous smile that fades when she sees my expression.
“Don’t make me regret this,” I say as I pull out of the parking lot.
She scoffs. “Seriously?”
I glance at her, raising my eyebrows, and the incredulity fades from her face. “I’ll be beyond pissed if I go to all this trouble only to find out you care more about clothes than you do about your future.”
“Please.” Her manicured nails sparkle as she guides the seatbelt over her pristine dress. “I give at least half a shit about my education.”
“Well, thank God for that.”
She makes a pleased humming sound when I turn on the stereo and Adiago for Strings flows through the speakers.
Another confirmation that I’m currently playing into multiple fantasies little Melissa has had running through her rigorously controlled mind since puberty.
When we stop at a red light, she turns to give me another quick smile. I turn in my seat, wrist draped over the steering wheel.
“Look at me.”
She stiffens, but her body turns as if she’s not in control of it anymore.
I brush a strand of hair from her face where it caught on her lip gloss, my knuckle grazing over her cheek.
“My apologies, Miss Parker. That was very distracting.”
She slowly faces forward again, lips parted, eyes wide.
I allow myself a small smile as I turn onto Earl Avenue.
I’ll always remember our first touch, just how I’ll always remember our last.
Do you remember our first touch, Haven?
What about you, Kai?
My hands creak against the leather as I tighten my grip. Rain dashes itself against the windshield, my wiper blades struggling to keep up with the deluge.
Don’t you wish it would stop, Billy?
I do.
I wish I could go to sleep and never wake up.
But then I think of you, and I can’t sleep.
It’s never going to stop, is it, Billy?
Never, ever, ever.