Chapter 5 #2
“Tell you what,” I continue, even though it feels like he hasn’t spoken in forever.
“If you beat me in one round of pool… I’ll add your drinks to my tab and my friend can pay for both of us.
” Normally, I would have called this a win and told Sam I’d met my part of the deal, but Asher’s reactions…
there’s something about them that’s egging me on.
“Interesting offer.” He glances over at the bar. “Is your friend Mr. Mitchell from class?”
“Yes,” I answer, not knowing if it’s a good or a bad thing.
He shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh. “That guy is too smart for his own good. He could use a little cosmic karma.”
I take a step back. “I’m sorry, did you just say cosmic karma?”
He gives me an exasperated look before finishing his beer and pushing himself to his feet, completely towering over me.
Okay, he is way taller than six feet.
“Alright, Miss Nyx, you have yourself a deal, one game.”
I nudge him with my elbow as we make our way over to the table. “You can call me Summer, you know… if you want.”
“I don’t,” he says quickly. “Want,” he clears his throat. “Miss Nyx is fine.”
“Ooookay, Asher,” I snicker as we reach the pool table. He looks at me, startled. I grab two cue sticks off the wall. “It’s on the school’s website,” I say in way of explanation.
“I think it’d be best if you called me Mr. Stirling,” he grumbles as he starts racking.
“I’ve had plenty of professors go by their first names.” I shrug.
“It’s a personal preference,” he states as he finishes racking. “And I would prefer it if you called me Mr. Stirling.”
“Okay, Mr. Stirling,” I say as I make my way around the table and hand him his cue stick. My fingers accidentally brush his, and I watch as his hand tightens on the stick to the point that his knuckles turn white. “Do you want to break, or shall I?”
“Please,” he says, nodding his head and taking a step back. “Ladies first.”
I lean over to break, and I hear him take in a startled breath. The cue ball cracks off the others as I look back at him. He’s intently studying the beer list and doesn’t look at me until I’ve stood upright again.
He takes in the table and notices that three balls have already been sunk. That earns me another eyebrow raise.
“I think I’ll take stripes,” I say smugly as I walk around to take another shot.
“You never said what you got if you won,” he says quietly.
“You’re right,” I agree before making another shot. “I didn’t.” He waits expectantly for me to say something. “If I win, you give me an A on my next paper.” He gives me a flabbergasted look, which makes me laugh. “Kidding,” I chuckle before missing my next shot. “How about a drink?”
“Your friend is already paying for your drinks,” he murmurs with a smile, taking his first shot.
“A drink at a later date, then.” I smirk, leaning up against the table. “I’m a poor graduate student, and inflation is a bitch.”
He misses his next shot and sighs. “This is the only bar I go to,” he says, like this will be the last time I ever set foot in this bar.
“The only bar?” I ask dubiously. “Why?”
“It rarely has students,” he says, repeating what he’d said to me in class a while ago.
“Oddly enough, that is exactly why I come to this bar. God forbid I run into my peers.” I dramatically shiver as if trying to shake something off.
“I also come so that I don’t get cabin fever in my studio apartment.
” I try to line up my next shot while continuing to talk.
“I can only be so productive locked up in that small of a space, no matter how cute my cat is.” He chuckles.
“This is my favorite bar. It’s the only place I’m a regular at. ”
He rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “I come to this bar pretty often, to grade, relax, read…” He gestures to his forgotten book, resting on the edge of the pool table. “I’m sure I’ve seen you before the semester started. I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you.”
His honesty startles me, and I miss my shot. “Hmm,” I muse before I finish off my drink as he lines up his next shot.
“You’re hard to miss,” he mumbles.
I can’t help it; my heart skips a beat.
“You’re hard to miss, too,” I say, and he looks up at me from where he’s leaning over the table. “You know, considering you’re a brick wall that takes up most doorways to bodyslam unsuspecting students.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “You should watch where you’re going.”
“And you should stop bench pressing so much.”
He straightens up. “You have something against exercise, Miss Nyx?”
“Not at all. But you’re massive, dude. You’re what, a million feet tall? That, paired with being built like Creed, you take up an unreasonable amount of space.”
“You watch boxing movies?” he asks, amused.
“When they star Michael B. Jordan, I do.”
“6 ‘3,” he mumbles, sinking another shot. “Just shy of ‘a million feet tall’.” He grins.
“The professor jokes.” I smirk.
“Among other things,” he says quietly before missing the next shot.
“So, you frequent this bar just because you don’t run into many students here?” he prompts as I sink another shot.
“I come here with Sam a lot to have a few drinks.” I gesture over my shoulder to Sam, who is still chatting up the cute guy at the bar.
“Sometimes I come here to get some schoolwork done.” I shrug.
“I live in the equivalent of a refrigerator box, and it feels like I’ll go crazy if I don’t go somewhere else. ”
I line up my final shot and call the pocket before I look up at him.
His eyes travel down my spine and across my waist. The feeling of his eyes on me makes phantom fingertips feel as if they’re dancing along my skin.
I quickly look away and perfectly sink the eight ball.
I stand up to my full height and hold my hand out to him.
“And with that, Professor, you owe me a drink.”
He shakes my hand, and I swear the contact sends a little zing up my spine.
“At a later date,” he murmurs without breaking eye contact.
“Huh?” I ask, distracted by the bright green of his eyes and the warmth of his hand.
“Your friend is picking up your tab. You said you wanted a drink at a later date if you won,” his voice is low and husky and doing weird things to my stomach.
“Right,” I laugh. “Can’t short myself out of a free drink, inflation and all,” I add stupidly. He smiles, and his hand tightens on mine before I realize we’re still holding hands. “Sorry,” I stutter.
“No, I’m sorry,” he says quickly.
I finish off my martini and awkwardly run a hand through my hair. “Well, thank you for indulging me and letting me play.”
“It was nothing,” he assures me. “Though I do feel slightly hustled,” he adds with a knowing grin.
The bartender interrupts us as he sets two tequila shots with limes in front of us.
Sam’s liquor of choice. I know without looking that Sam has gone home with the cute boy he was chatting up earlier.
He always sends an apology shot my way when he leaves without me.
It’s never bothered me before, but leaving me talking to our professor without an easy out?
Asher looks at me with a raised brow.
I sigh. “They’re from Sam. He’ll send me an ‘I’m sorry for bailing on you’ shot when he leaves the bar with someone that’s not me.”
“He left you here?”
I wave off his tone of concern as I take the shot. “No big deal, I’ll just Uber home. I don’t live far from here.”
“Are you sure?” he asks hesitantly.
The last thing I want is for him to give me a pity ride home.
Maybe another kind of ride. I shake the dirty thoughts away as I scoop up my purse.
“Nah, I am all good,” I assure him. “Thanks again for letting me get some free drinks out of my friend. Enjoy the free shot he sent you for putting up with me, and I will see you in class on Monday.” I wave and turn toward the door before he can say anything else.
I make my way outside to the street and resist the urge to look over my shoulder at Asher, knowing that I can probably still see him from the window. I stumble slightly as the last shot catches up with me.
I pull out my phone to tap the screen only to see that it’s dead. “Great,” I mutter before looking around to see if there are any taxis nearby.
No luck.
A group of guys bumps into me, almost knocking me over.
“Hey!” one of them exclaims, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Have a drink with us, pretty lady!” he slurs.
“No, thank you,” I say politely, hoping that it will get them to leave me alone. “I’m heading home for the night.”
“Oh, come on!” he groans. “Don’t be such a loser. It’s still early!”