Chapter 2
Jace
I idly swiped through Instagram while waiting for class to start. I wasn’t really watching what was on my screen—it was more of a habit than actually absorbing any of the short-form videos. Something to take my mind off the pounding sensation in my temple.
I closed my eyes and groaned. My hangover had only gotten worse since waking up this morning. Last semester, I was thrilled to be living in an off-campus apartment rather than one of the dorms. I had my own bedroom, a full kitchen, and all the freedom to do whatever I wanted.
But after a sophomore buddy asked me to buy him beer for a party, I got roped into sticking around for a game of beer pong. Which turned into seven games of beer pong. By the time I took an Uber home it was after midnight, and I was thoroughly drunk.
Now I wished I lived on campus. Then I could have taken my time before walking to class, rather than needing to immediately jump in the car and drive here. I hadn’t had time to do anything but grab a bottle of water and my backpack.
I leaned back in my seat, but that caused me to stare up at one of the ceiling lights. I groaned in pain as the direct light caused my headache to pulse a little worse.
“Hey. Buddy. I’m talking to you.”
I opened an eye. The guy sitting two seats over was looking at me.
“You good?”
“I’m fine,” I said.
He stared at me a little longer, then reached into his backpack. There was a rattling sound of a pill bottle, and then he extended his hand.
“Liquid IV. Plus an extra strength Ibuprofen.”
I grabbed the offering like a dying man and immediately dumped the powder packet into my bottle of water. “You’re a life saver.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ve been there. Not in a while, but… yeah.”
“I’m Jace.”
“Brock.”
We nodded in greeting. Brock had the look of an athlete, broad in the shoulders and otherwise lean with muscle. But he also looked older than the rest of the students. Like me.
“Having a class first thing on Monday morning already feels like a mistake,” I said.
Brock shrugged his boulder-like shoulders. “It’s not so bad. Just don’t drink Sunday night.”
“Wish I’d heard that about twelve hours ago,” I muttered.
“You know anything about the professor?” Brock asked.
I shook my head. “I’ve barely looked at my schedule. My guidance counselor picked my classes.”
Brock scratched the back of his neck with a pen. “I looked her up on Rate My Professor. She’s young. This is only the second semester she’s taught.”
“She?” I’d pictured Professor Carrington as a man. “Maybe she’s hot.”
“Maybe.”
I glanced at my watch. The time was 7:59 for a blink, then switched over to 8:00.
At that exact moment, a woman in a pencil skirt and white blouse came striding into the lecture hall. “Good morning everyone. Welcome to Criminology 101. I’m Professor Carrington.”
“Yep,” Brock said. “She’s hot.”
“I’ll say.” I squinted. Why did she look familiar? Thanks to the layout of the room, I was high up above the lecture stage, so I couldn’t get a good look at her.
Until she turned and smiled up at the class.
Is that… no way. It can’t be.
“Hey, buddy?” Brock whispered. “She’s attractive, but maybe you should close your mouth.”
I hadn’t realized my jaw was open. I closed it and leaned closer to Brock to say, “Dude. I know her.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I got matched with her on Tinder.”
Brock snorted. “No fucking way.”
“I’m serious!”
Down on the lecture stage, our professor was saying, “I don’t take attendance. You’re all adults and can manage your own schedule, and if you can’t, then you won’t get very far in college.
“I don’t believe you,” Brock told me.
“I don’t care if you believe me or not,” I insisted. “It’s true.”
“Whatever you say.”
I stared down at the professor while she plugged her laptop in. Her hair was different today, but it was definitely her.
And for some reason, I did care if this random guy believed me.
“Here,” I whispered, showing him my phone. “Check it out.”
He looked at the Tinder exchange. “Oh shit, you were right. You’ve slept with the professor?”
“No! We haven’t even gone out on a date. We just matched a week ago and have been chatting. You can read our texts.”
I held the phone out and read along with him.
Me: I’m sick of all the standard ice-breaking questions, so let’s do something different. What TV shows are you watching right now?
Lila: Ohh, that’s a fun opener! I’m watching two shows right now: Stranger Things and Veep. I’m on the final season of Stranger Things, and I usually just watch one episode per night and then switch to Veep to relax with a comedy. How about you?
Me: You’re on the final season? You didn’t binge-watch them when they all came out?
Lila: I was busy over the holidays with work! I didn’t get a chance to catch up until a week ago!
Me: That’s a pretty big red flag to me.
Lila: What? Being busy?
Me: Not prioritizing your schedule properly. Huge turn-off.
Lila: I prefer to think of it as having the right amount of willpower to hold off until I’m ready to binge it. Which I am currently doing!
Me: I’m just shocked you’ve gone spoiler-free. My feed has been nothing but spoilers since the finale aired on New Year’s Eve.
Me: I’m actually kind of tempted to spoil it for you right now.
Lila: That would be a fantastic way to miss out on a first date.
Me: Hmm. True.
Lila: Don’t I get points for having good taste in television shows?
Me: I guess. It depends on what you think of the finale.
Lila: I’m two episodes away, so I’ll update you when I see it.
Lila: But I’m loving the season so far. Especially Will’s transformation. That boy grew up this season and became a hunk!
Me: Yeah, but he’s gay.
Lila: Homophobia? Now there’s a red flag.
Me: No! I’m not being homophobic. I’m just pointing out that you two aren’t exactly compatible.
Lila: My newfound crush on Will Byers knows no bounds. Besides, I doubt you’ve never had a crush on a lesbian character.
Me: True. As a teenager I was madly in love with Willow from Buffy.
Lila: Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Your profile says you’re 27, not 47.
Me: My older brother had the DVD box set.
Me: Here’s an idea. We should watch the Stranger Things finale as a date.
Lila: So you can spend the whole time watching my reaction?
Me: Yes. Exactly. I need to make sure you appreciate all the right parts properly.
Lila: Tempting. How about we do dinner first before deciding whether to go back to my place?
Me: I could be talked into that ;-)
The texts got more scandalous after that: I sent a photo of myself shirtless in the mirror, and Lila replied with a selfie of herself wearing nothing but a bra and lacy panties. Brock leaned in close to get a better look, so I quickly yanked my phone away.
“Damn,” Brock said. “You two really hit it off.”
“Right?”
The girl sitting in front of us turned around and glared. I whispered an apology, and then we were silent while Lila—I mean Professor Carrington—went through the lecture.
But I couldn’t pay attention to what she was saying. Not while she was wearing that pencil skirt which hugged her hips and made her ass look so fucking good…
By the end of class, I hadn’t absorbed a single word from the lecture itself. As the rest of the students filed out of class, I walked up the steps to the lecture stage.
When I realized Brock was right behind me, I turned and said, “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, buddy, but I’m not going to miss this.”
I turned back and saw that she was staring at me. Something gripped my heart and squeezed. It was tough to tell from my seat, but up close she had the most gorgeous eyes, with long eyelashes and cheekbones that could cut steel. Not to mention the full lips that were begging to be kissed.
She’s so much hotter than in her photos.
It was a shame I was about to blow any shot I ever had with her.