Chapter 11
SUMMER
I unlock my door and walk into my empty apartment. I shoot off a quick text thanking Matt for the ride home before flopping down on my bed, greeted immediately by Milo. She rubs her head against my arm, and I smile before scratching behind her ears.
I know it was a low blow to let Asher think I went home with Matt.
I was completely aware of how that would look, and to be honest, I was hoping it would hurt his feelings.
The man has given me whiplash over our last few interactions.
The audacity he has to follow me into a bathroom, make me climax while keeping all of my clothes on, and then turn around and immediately imply he regrets the entire thing is just astounding.
So was it petty to throw another guy in his face after everything that had just happened?
Absolutely. But was it petty of him to bring a date to the bar he knows I practically live at?
Abso-fucking-lutely. I’d call us even now.
And it wouldn’t surprise me if he took that girl back to his place so that he could finish what we’d started with someone more ‘appropriate’.
I kick off my boots, notice a missed call from Mom, and listen to a three-minute voicemail, the gist of which is that she wants to make plans for when I come home for Thanksgiving.
I shoot her a quick text, knowing she’s already asleep, she would’ve turned the porch light off promptly at nine and refused to give out candy even a minute after.
I tell her that I’ll drive down after my class on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, and that I’ll head back Saturday afternoon.
I know she’ll be upset that I’m only there for a few nights, but that’s all I’ll be able to handle.
I plug my phone in and start trying to guess which eligible man she’ll invite to dinner while I’m home. It’s like she thinks I only have a year left to have kids, and if I don’t find a mate ASAP, she’ll never be a grandmother.
Deciding that I have zero interest in entertaining any suitors over the break, I send her another text, begging her for dinner to be just the two of us, with no guests invited. She texts back a thumbs-up emoji, so she’s not thrilled about the request, but hopefully she’ll honor it.
I feed Milo, then head to the bathroom to wash the remaining makeup and hairspray off before bed. I run my fingers through my tangled hair after flipping on the light.
As I’m stripping to shower, I notice a dark spot marring the skin between my neck and shoulder.
It’s a fucking hickey.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I hiss out, prodding the bruised skin. “That bastard.”
I rack my brain for the last time I had a hickey, and it must’ve been sometime in early college. Back when I didn’t have to worry about maintaining a professional appearance.
I curse Asher a second time.
When class rolls around on Monday, Asher avoids any sort of eye contact with me. He looks at nearly every other student except for me during his lecture. I can feel my anger getting hotter and hotter. I raise my hand without knowing the answer just to see if he’ll call on me, say my name.
He doesn’t.
His eyes quickly scan over me, and then he calls on someone who had hesitantly raised their hand after me.
My anger reaches an all-new high. I dig my fingernails into my palms and bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from blurting out curse words.
I wasn’t foolish enough to think that what happened on Halloween meant anything. I didn’t think we’d talk in depth about it, or even acknowledge it. But for Asher not to acknowledge me? Again? That stings.
I resist the urge to angrily rub at the spot where he’d left a bruise. I used my most expensive foundation to cover it up this morning. Although maybe if I revealed the hickey, I could actually get a reaction out of him.
My foot taps angrily on the floor, earning me a curious look and raised eyebrow from Sam. “You good?” he whispers.
I nod, trying to stop my leg from shaking and focus on taking any sort of notes from this lecture. I look down at my blank notebook page and scowl. I’ll have to get Sam’s notes from him and make sure I didn’t miss anything important.
Just as I take a deep breath and set my pen to paper, Asher dismisses the class and then quickly turns toward his desk.
He’s really going to pretend nothing happened and that I don’t even exist. Refusing to admit that we made a mistake is fine, but actively ignoring me, refusing to let me participate in class just so that he doesn’t have to look at me or speak to me? Unacceptable.
No way will I let him ignore me again, not after what happened in that bathroom.
I stomp my way toward the front of the classroom as everyone else files out, my heels clack against the floor, giving me a boost of confidence.
I wave Sam away and mumble a quick, “I’ll see you later.
” Sam must catch on to my poor mood because he just waves and heads out the door without another word.
I plant my feet in front of Asher and put my hands on my hips, waiting for the last few stragglers to leave. He busies himself by shoving stray papers from his desk into his bag, obviously doing his best to ignore me.
When it’s obvious that he’s not going to look at me, let alone say something, I snap. “You left a goddamned hickey on my neck, asshole.” I gesture angrily toward the mark that I had slathered in foundation.
“I don’t see anything,” he scoffs, though he still hasn’t fully looked at me.
“No shit,” I hiss back. “I spent ten minutes trying to cover it up so that no one would notice.” A smug look flits across his face as he finally makes eye contact with me, and my anger boils over.
“Do you want me to explain to anyone who asks where I got that from? Because as of right now, I don’t really have a ready-to-use excuse. ”
He crosses his arms and scowls at me. “You could always tell everyone it’s from Matt. Should be believable enough since you’ve already gone home with him once.”
A startled laugh escapes me. “My god, you’re jealous.
” He shakes his head and lets out an amused snort of disbelief, but I don’t give him the chance to say anything.
“You follow me into a bathroom, leave a hickey on my neck, refuse to leave with me, and then have the audacity to be butthurt over the fact that I may have gone home with someone else?” I roll my eyes.
“I’m sorry, how old are you? Because I thought I was supposed to be the younger one here. ”
“Well, did you?” he asks as he comes around his desk toward me.
“Did I what?” I demand as he starts to circle me.
“Go home with him?” He stops behind me, so close that his breath ghosts across the nape of my neck.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” I snap, spinning toward him.
His hand shoots out and grips my throat.
It’s not hard enough to hurt, but he does hold me firmly enough that I can’t easily move away.
I watch in shock as he licks the pad of his thumb and rubs at the spot on my neck where he’d been sucking on just two days prior.
I can tell the moment the foundation rubs away, and he can see the still-dark bruise marring my skin.
Desire leaks through his gaze, and he bites his lip, attempting to hide a smug smile.
“When I look at this, it feels like it might be my business,” he growls.
I push him away from me, making him release his hold on my neck. “Just because you got excited and left a hickey on me like a teenager, does not mean it is any of your business what I do with anyone else.”
He crowds closer to me, following me as I step back until I bump into his desk. “What if I told you I did it on purpose? That I wanted to make sure that anyone else who was with you would know that someone else had been there first?”
“I would say that’s incredibly immature,” I sniff. “And risky considering you’re my professor.”
“If you tell me the look on Matt’s face when he noticed it, I’ll consider it worth the risk.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I went home, asshole.” His muscles relax, and relief immediately washes over him. “Contrary to what you might believe, I don’t make out with one guy just to go home with another.”
He places his hands on the desk on either side of me. “Then why did you say—”
I give him another eye roll. “Because you were being a dick, just like you are now.”
“I was not—”
“You were on a date with another woman, followed me into the bathroom, proceeded to do… a bunch of stuff with me, and then went back to your date.”
His face blanches. “I didn’t go home with her either,” he says quietly.
The nauseous feeling that’s been in my stomach all weekend disappears. “You didn’t?”
He slowly shakes his head, trying to resist smiling at me. “No. I didn’t.”
We stand there staring at each other, and I fight the urge to lean forward and press my lips to his. He looks like he’s about to say something when we hear footsteps approaching the open door of the classroom.
He quickly pushes himself away from me, and I rush to pick up my bag. “Thank you, Professor Stirling,” I say, pushing a strand of hair away from my face.
“Of course, Miss Nyx,” he responds as another male professor enters the classroom. He has fiery red hair and thick black glasses. He tries to smile my way, but I duck my head and avoid his gaze.
I hastily walk past the man and make what I hope is an inconspicuous escape. Let Asher deal with any suspicions he has; I have a hickey to cover up.