Chapter 15
SUMMER
I know that I should stay away from Asher.
If we’re being honest, the second we kissed in the elevator, I should’ve dropped his class.
Or, at the very least, checked whether another professor offered it.
But now, I’m well and truly screwed. Not only is it too late to drop the class without losing out on credits and therefore extending my schooling, but it’s too late for me to stop thinking about Asher in a nonprofessional manner.
I want him more than I can ever remember wanting anyone else. There has not been a single point during this graduate program where I have genuinely considered breaking my no-dating rule, until now. And I can’t even date him. Not really.
We’ve made it to Thanksgiving break without any more incidents, but Asher has clearly been doing his best to avoid me.
He tosses my assignments on the desk in front of me so that he doesn’t risk touching my hand.
He rarely calls on me in class—he’ll only do so if I’m the only one with my hand raised.
I can’t tell whether he regrets what happened almost a month ago or just doesn’t want to make the mistake of repeating it.
I want to be pissed at him, but honestly, I’ve been no better.
When I needed clarification on an assignment, I had Sam email him instead of doing it myself.
When Asher shows up at The Pour House, I make an excuse after finishing my drink and head out early for the night.
I do regret what happened between us, only because I walked away from that encounter feeling dirty.
I don’t like being secretive or doing things that I know are wrong.
We’ve both been avoiding each other like the plague, and I have to believe that means Asher feels at least something for me. Even if that something is just lust, it makes me feel better knowing it’s not just one-sided.
And I hate that I can feel myself getting genuine feelings for him.
He’s so smart and an excellent teacher. Talking with him while we played pool felt nearly effortless, and even though I knew it was wrong, it somehow felt right.
Knowing that he is a decent enough human who makes sure people get back home safely leaves a warm feeling in my stomach.
I try to ignore the fact that our back-and-forth banter feels like the best kind of foreplay, because while that is a bonus, it’s not the most important part. He’s a good man, and he makes me laugh even though he frustrates me to no end.
I’ve nearly made it to the parking lot when Sam skips up to me and bumps my shoulder with his. “Okay, so to celebrate that we finally get some time off for Thanksgiving, we’re going out tonight, right?” he asks, but I can already tell that if I refuse, he’ll just keep pestering me until I agree.
“I’m guessing I can’t convince you to just go out with Derek tonight, can I?”
He’s shaking his head before I even finish asking. “Absolutely not. We always go out before we leave for breaks.”
I sigh. He’s right. It’s our own little tradition that we have, but after what happened on Halloween, the last thing I feel like I should be doing is going to The Pour House and drinking excessively. “Fine. But can we go somewhere new?”
“Somewhere new?” he scoffs. “Like where?”
I shrug. “Let’s go dancing or something.”
He takes a dramatic step backward as he slams his hand to his chest. “Summer Nyx wants to go out dancing?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m fun sometimes, you know.”
“I know you are. It’s just usually only five percent of the time, and then that type of fun is drinking at a bar where you know people will leave you alone or drinking wine at home with your cat.”
“None of that makes me sound like fun.”
“You’re right. ‘Fun’ isn’t usually a word I use when describing you.”
I shove him, but laugh anyway. “Are you up for dancing or not?”
“You know it takes very little convincing to get me to go out and party,” he snickers. “I’ll text Derek and make sure he’s up for it.”
“Thank you,” I say, sighing in relief.
“Is there any other reason you don’t want to go to our usual spot tonight?” he asks skeptically.
“Nah.” I shrug, trying to remain casual. “I just thought it would be fun to do something new.”
It’s obvious that he still doesn’t believe everything I’m saying. “Okay,” he responds, unconvinced. “Because the last few times we’ve gone to The Pour House, you’ve left early.”
“I think I’ve just been overwhelmed… with school lately.”
He looks at me suspiciously, but lets it go. “Alright, there’s a new club in Cap Hill that Derek and I have been wanting to try. I’ll let him know, and then we can go there.”
I give him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Sam.”
“I’ll pick you up around eight?” Sam offers. I nod as he starts walking in the opposite direction. “Wear something cute!” he calls after me before disappearing from sight.
Sam and Derek showed up at my apartment twenty minutes late, but when they saw what I was planning to wear—a simple light blue sweater and jeans—they both pushed me back inside.
“You are not wearing that,” Sam scoffs. “You were the one who wanted to go dancing, so you have to dress appropriately for it.”
Sam is wearing a flowing white shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, paired with black leather pants.
On anyone else, it would look ridiculous, but he sort of has a sexy pirate thing going for him.
Derek is wearing a see-through pink fishnet shirt with whitewashed jeans, which complement his darker skin tone.
Standing next to each other, they look like they’re both attending completely different events, but I see them both shooting each other suggestive looks out of the corner of my eye, and I know they probably hyped each other up while they were getting dressed.
A small pang goes through my chest. They only care about each other when they’re together. Not what anyone else thinks of them. Not about whether their outfits clash. Not if they match the expected vibe of the venue they’re going to—just each other.
I tug at a fraying strand of my sweater. “What’s wrong with this?” I ask feebly, already knowing his answer.
“The only skin showing is your face,” he deadpans.
I consider pushing back, but I know it’s pointless. Sam won’t budge until I change, or he’ll threaten to leave me here. “Fine, fine, I’ll change,” I groan.
Sam is already digging through my closet before I concede. He tosses random articles of clothing my way, and Derek helps scoop them up off the floor before ushering me into the bathroom.
I’m shoving myself into a dark blue silk dress with a small slit up the thigh as Sam and Derek yell things through the door at me. “So why, exactly, are we going dancing instead of sitting at our table at the bar?” Derek calls.
I adjust the spaghetti straps on my dress to avoid any possible nip slips. “Because we wanted a change of scenery.”
I open the door and tug down the hemline of the skirt before Sam hikes it back up. “Yes, we wanted a change of scenery,” he agrees, giving me an accusing look.
Derek hands me a pair of black strappy heels and my leather jacket, then shrugs. “You know I’m down for anything, I was just curious.”
I glare at Sam as I tug the hem back down. “You know it’s just going to ride up as soon as you start walking, so why bother?” Sam taunts.
“I wanted to wear jeans,” I point out. We’re all dressed in completely different styles, but considering the club is on Capitol Hill, we won’t stick out at all.
That part of Seattle is about as open and welcoming as you can get, no matter who you are or what you look like.
It’s one of my favorite things about the area.
“Derek and I are together; we have to live vicariously through you. And living through you won’t be any fun if you’re dressed like you’re forty.”
My mouth falls open in silent outrage. “I did not look forty,” I insist.
I look to Derek for assistance, but he shrugs. “This looks way cuter,” he says, giving me an encouraging smile. “Plus, it has more of a dancing vibe than the sweater.”
I sigh. “Fine. Let’s just go. First rounds on me,” I say as a peace offering.
“Can we take your car?” Sam asks as we’re making our way out of the apartment.
“You offered to pick me up.”
“Well, we Ubered here because Derek doesn’t have a car, and I just got a notice saying my tabs are expired.”
I scrunch my eyebrows at him, but I’m already digging through my purse for my keys. “When did they expire?”
“Last year,” he shrugs.
“Sam!”
“I could’ve sworn I’d renewed them, but I guess I forgot.”
“Jesus,” I mutter. “Yeah, let’s just take my car. I don’t even want to know what that ticket would look like.”
“Neither do I,” he chuckles.
I quickly navigate through the crowded Seattle streets. Clearly, everyone else had similar ideas—get your partying out of your system before visiting Mom and Dad for a turkey dinner.
I park my car in a parking garage a few blocks from the club and pay an exorbitant fee for the evening. Derek pats my back and smiles at me. “First round’s on me, second round’s on Sam, since you just paid for parking.”
“Deal,” I say gratefully.
We walk to the club, and I’m already regretting not wearing pants. I rub my arms through my jacket as goosebumps break out across my skin, and I mentally curse Sam for forcing me to change.
We’re assaulted by thumping bass and blinding lights as we enter the club.
We flash our IDs at the doorman and receive smudged stamps on the backs of our hands.
The club is full of writhing, sweating bodies, and Sam has to shoulder his way through the crowd, holding Derek’s hand, who in turn has a hold of me.
We make it to the bar, and I cringe when I hear the cost of a single drink.
Alright, so this was a bad idea.
I knew I wasn’t going to have as much fun out at a club as I would at The Pour House, but I thought I would at least muster up some small form of excitement. Not sure if that’ll happen.