11. I Did Something Bad
CHAPTER ELEVEN
i did something bad
IMOGEN
“Uh… is that the guy? Like, the sexy guy from your phone?” Piper whispers. “Am I hallucinating?”
I’m too dumbfounded to answer. Why the fuck is here, and why is he with my brother?
“I… I don’t–”
She pulls out her phone and takes a quick look at the picture I sent her.
“That’s definitely him, right?”
All I can do is give a little incoherent half-sob and flail my arms.
“I don’t fucking know, Pipes!”
“Does he know your brother? Wait, how does he know your brother?” She hisses.
“I’m not sure! I don’t know anything about the guy! I’ve just spanked him and had his dick in my mouth, we didn’t go into his life’s story!”
I’m hot with embarrassment, dizzy, the edges of my vision already going gray. This can’t be happening. Maybe if I walk out of the bar and back in again, it’ll be a different person.
Like when you reset a video game.
“He’s staring at you,” Piper whispers.
His friends at the pool table are doubled over laughing, shoving each other back and forth, but he’s only focused on me, his jaw clenched, ticking like a clock. It’s definitely him, but luckily Logan hasn’t noticed either of us staring yet.
I feel Jay’s massive arm around me as he pushes his head between the two of us, probably confused why we haven’t moved in beyond the entrance.
“What’s going on? You scoping out all the old dudes, Iggy?” He asks with a smirk.
“Iggy!” My brother calls again.
This time, a few people in the bar turn to look at me. No chance to bail anymore.
“Come on, if we keep staring, your brother’s going to start asking questions.” She grasps my hand. “You can come up with an excuse to leave later if you really hate it.”
Piper knows me, knows I won’t go of my own volition, and so suddenly I’m being dragged forward to my doom. It could be a worse place to be doomed, though. The bar is kind of a dive, but it’s cute. There are spots for people to mingle, along with pool tables, a dart board, and a big jukebox.
If this place were in Brooklyn, it would be packed every night.
“I’m gonna grab drinks!” Jay calls. “You ladies want beers, or something fancy?”
“Beer’s fine! I don’t think they do fancy here, baby!” Piper shouts back.
Jay bounces toward the bar as Piper and I approach the pool table.
Logan beams at me.
Henry tries not to stare.
My legs feel like they’re filling up with lead.
I do not want to be here.
“You made it! Guys, this is my sister, Imogen, and her friend Piper. They’re both starting their PhDs on Monday.” He gestures to his friends. “Iggy, you’ve already met… Well, almost everyone, right?”
“I think so, but it helps to put names to faces,” I chuckle, trying to squash my nerves.
“Sure, sure. This is Abi, Frankie, and this moody grump is Roman Burke. Hopefully he made a strong first impression.”
My stomach knots and those tacos I ate before we got here start to creep up the back of my throat. Not Henry, Roman Burke. The professor I’m TAing for. When Frankie first emailed to offer me the contract, I tried doing a search to get an idea of what the professor I’d be working with was like, but all I got back was a bunch of articles. No pictures, and definitely no social media.
Roman’s eyes briefly flash with panic, the same thing I’m feeling in every nerve ending in my body, but he quickly slips back into a neutral expression.
I sucked this man’s cock. He had his finger in my asshole while I listened to him talk about his filthiest fantasies. Now I’m supposed to just work with him like nothing happened?
Thankfully, Frankie steps forward, giving me something new to focus on.
“Imogen, it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
Frankie’s really good looking, his intense blue eyes offset by golden hair and lightly tanned skin, a slightly crooked nose adding variety to the package. He’s the head of the department, but more importantly for me he’s my thesis supervisor. Now though, most importantly of all, he’s another one of Roman’s friends. I’ve got to get my head in the game. Nobody can know what the two of us did together.
“Hi, Frankie. It’s nice to meet you too. I— I got your email about a meeting. I meant to reply, but things have been?—”
I’m stammering, and my whole face feels like it’s on fire, but Frankie only chuckles, holding his hand up in calm dismissal.
“Don’t worry about it right now. This is super casual, just a way for students and staff to hang out, specifically without having to talk about work.”
“Except it’s academia and work is all we talk about,” Abi chuckles as she sips her beer.
I let out a much-too-loud and awkward laugh, instantly wanting to die inside. Oh my God, Iggy, get it together.
Abi and I exchange pleasantries before I give my brother a hug, finally turning to face Roman. He stretches out his arm to shake my hand. There are beads of sweat forming on his forehead and he’s staring at me as if to say do not fuck this up .
“Imogen, right? It’s nice to meet you.”
Hearing him say my real name is surreal, and even though I’m shaking, I can’t stop thinking about how good those lips would feel.
“Nice to meet you too, Dr. Burke.”
It doesn’t help that he’s in a tight white t-shirt and a pair of even tighter blue jeans. Now that I know what’s under those clothes, I have to look at the space between his eyes to stay focused.
I swallow, finding myself desperate for a drink as I pull my hand away. I don’t want to shake it for too long. Logan could start asking questions. How am I going to TA for this man for a whole semester? I have to quit. I’ll move back to New York and, I don’t know, sell pictures of my feet? Or my used underwear? Who needs a PhD in this economy?
“Hey, are we gonna finish this humiliation game or not?” Logan cuts in.
“Iggy!” Piper calls, offering a wonderful distraction as she floats toward an empty pool table. “Come on, let’s play!”
Jay holds out a cue for me, but I need a fucking breather.
“Sure, but I need to hit the bathroom first!” I step past Roman. “Excuse me, Dr. Burke.”
I try to force myself to breathe normally as I escape, turning down a long hallway that feels even longer in the moment. Along the walls are near-endless pictures of random sports teams, jerseys with names I don’t recognize, and weird art that looks like it's from a thrift shop. This hallway is where memorabilia goes to die.
Finally, I reach the women’s bathroom, shut the door behind me, and bury my head in my hands. I feel like I can’t breathe, like something’s crushing my chest. My heart is racing, and my vision is starting to blur.
I don’t even care about the fact that Henry isn’t his real name. My name’s not fucking Jade. I picked the name because I own a pair of jade earrings and it was the first thing my eyes landed on when I was making my profile. I put my hands on my thighs and suck in a deep breath, trying not to give in to the panic attack.
“You’re fine,” I mutter. “You’re fine. Just breathe.”
The world isn’t ending.
I head for the sink and twist the knob, sticking my mouth under the tap to try and soothe my throat. When I’m finished, I wet a paper towel, pressing it against my chest as I keep up my steady breathing.
“I’m touching the paper towel, I’m standing on the floor, my hand is holding the sink. I can see the tap, my reflection in the mirror, and my shoes. My heart is pounding, I can feel my t-shirt tag, and the cold towel.”
I’ve been dealing with panic attacks since my master’s program. The pressure was intense, working down to the wire and late into the night. One time, a professor of mine caught me mid-panic attack and taught me the paper towel trick. It’s been my lifeline ever since.
Unfortunately, it can only do so much.
A week in Washington and I’ve managed to fuck my brother’s friend, a man who just so happens to be my boss. I just wanted a hookup without consequences. This reaping and sowing shit sucks.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
“Please don’t be Roman.”
I take a few more deep breaths before I toss the paper towel into the trash and check my messages.
PIPES: You good?
“Oh, thank God.”
IMOGEN: Bad anxiety. Be out in a second.
PIPES: Wanna leave?
IMOGEN: No, I’m fine.
I drink a little more water, fix my hair, and step out into the hallway where my heart nearly stops. He’s standing by the men’s room with his hands in his pockets. I gulp, my heart hammering against my ribs as that horrible hand of anxiety squeezes hard. I almost expect him to give me shit, but when he looks uncomfortably down at his boots, I feel like I might be able to breathe again.
“So… this is awkward.”
I laugh. What else can I do right now?
“Yeah, pretty much the worst case scenario for both of us, huh?”
“You got that right, darlin’– Er, sorry, Jade.” He holds up his hands in frustration. “Fuck! Imogen, right? I– I’m sorry.”
I want to tell him that I like the nickname, that it gives me butterflies, that I haven’t stopped thinking about the way it rolls off his tongue. Just like I haven’t stopped thinking about last night.
But all I can manage is…
“It’s okay,” I reply, shoving my hands into my pockets as I glance down the hallway, making sure nobody’s coming around the corner.
“I didn’t know you were a student here.”
“Well that’s fair. I didn’t know you were a professor,” I chuckle. “Or that you’re pretty much my boss.”
I spanked my boss with a belt and called him a desperate little slut.
I think I just found the new American dream.
“Yep. Feels like something I should’ve looked into,” he sighs.
“We both fucked up.” I try not to give away the disappointment in my voice. “It happens, right?”
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, his cheeks bright pink and his jaw clenched. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
I was really looking forward to getting to know this guy, exploring with him. Apparently, the universe has much more boring plans.
“So? What do we do?”
All either of us can do is stand there, chuckling awkwardly. I don’t want to lose my spot at the only university that would accept me, but if my brother found out what happened between us, who knows how he’d react. Imagine fucking this thing up before even setting foot inside of a classroom.
“I think we can chalk this whole thing up to one incredible night, but this can’t go any further.”
He sounds regretful, and more than a little sad.
“Totally agree.” Even though having to utter those words makes me hate this entire situation even more. “I think that’s for the best considering we’re probably going to be working together. A lot.”
Roman stares at me, hands stuffed back into his pockets. I catch the little muscle flex in his arm and find it hard not to stare. Why did he have to wear such a tight shirt? And tight jeans? That, combined with the cowboy boots is… well, it’s killing me frankly.
He glances quickly over his shoulder, taking a step toward me, but to my surprise he brushes my cheek with the back of his hand. It’s gentle, but it still makes me shiver.
“I had an amazing time with you, Imogen. You’re funny, you’re bright, you’re gorgeous… and I really wish things were different.”
I maintain a neutral expression, but the softness in his eyes and the way he says my real name cuts straight through me.
“Me too.”
“Let’s keep what happened between us.”
“Agreed.”
“We’ll be professional and we can be friends.” He pauses, his throat bobbing. “If you want to, at least. I’d like to be your friend, Imogen.”
I hate the weight he puts on that word.
Friend.
“I’d like to be yours too.” I wince, and start to stammer. “I mean, friend– I’d like to–”
“I got what you were saying,” Roman chuckles. “Thanks for being so good about all this.”
I give him a little shrug.
“What other choice do we have?”
He grins at me, a small glint in his eyes.
“I’ll see you out there.”
Roman disappears back into the bar and I slump against the wall, my heart still pounding. I can do this. We can be co-workers. After a couple minutes, I take a deep breath and walk back out into the bar. Piper and Jay are chatting with Logan while Roman stands at the back, waiting for another drink.
It’s going to be hard not to think about him on all fours on that hotel bed.