13. Chapter 12
RYAN
“ Chug, chug.” I raise the red plastic cup and feel the mixed drink burn down my throat.
I hear whistling and cheering somewhere in the background, but I ignored it, stumbling back toward the kitchen for another drink.
The house was crawling with college students, all getting shit-faced on a Friday night.
The kitchen was packed, blue and pink neon lights bouncing off the sleek white fridge doors.
I caught myself against the counter, then pushed past a couple people until I was in front of a counter brimming with bottles.
My chest felt wired, humming with adrenaline. No shame, no embarrassment, no hurt. Just me and this bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
I twisted the cap off and tipped it back, shoving the lukewarm liquid past my lips. I barely registered someone stepping up beside me until their hot breath brushed my ear.
“Looking good, blondie.”
I giggled and turned, draping my arms over their shoulders.
Tall, really tall, and in the dim light, they almost resembled him.
I glance up to meet brown, interested eyes. “Lonely, blondie?”
I’ve never seen him before.
I don’t bother with a retort. Instead, I press myself against him, letting the liquid courage take the wheel.
Maybe this is what I need; a good, hard fuck to erase the idiot from my head. I practically saved him from the nightmare he was living. And a baby? He didn't even want kids.
I moaned against the tall stranger as his big hands cupped my ass. The size of them reminded me of that morning with Nathan.
The morning of pure bliss when he held me close and murmured in my ear, showing me exactly how good his voice sounds low and rough.
The stranger hoisted me onto the counter, spreading my legs a little. I let him without a thought.
“Fuck,” he muttered against my mouth. “Wanna take this upstairs, sunshine?”
I giggled, voice slurred. “Yessir.”
I bite at his neck, and he groaned.
“Oh, feisty. I like that. You gonna be a good little slut for me in bed?”
“Mhh… yessir.” I tried to stand, but my legs weren't fully cooperating.
He didn't seem to mind. Smiling, he led me toward the stairs. I tripped on the first step.
Jesus, the stairs weren't even uniform. Landon needed to fix that.
The guy cursed and swept me into his arms bridal-style. I couldn’t help but giggle and tug his mouth towards mine.
We finally found a bedroom, but it was already occupied. The stranger kept moving until we reached a smaller guest room in the back.
“Perfect. I’m going to do such dirty things to you.”
He opened the door, only for us to find Landon inside with someone. Whoever it was yelped and dove under the covers.
Landon cursed, scrambling to cover himself, then spotted me.
I waved. He narrowed his eyes.
“Sorry, man.” The stranger smirked. “Just trying to find a place to give this blondie the ride of his life.”
“Yessir,” I slurred. Apparently, it’s the only word my mouth wants to say tonight.
I really needed water.
“Dude, are you good?” Landon stepped closer, studying me.
“Yesssir!” I grinned, but he didn't smile back. His eyes locked on the stranger holding me.
“I’ll take him from here. He’s drunk.”
The guy scoffed. “He’s fine, just cock hungry.”
He’s not wrong. I nodded along and smiled at Landon, but he still glared at the stranger.
“I don’t care. He’s too drunk to put out.”
I scoffed but before I could protest, Landon grabbed me and yanked me out of the guy’s arms. “Stop fighting me, Ryan.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw the stranger’s irritated expression. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Landon said flatly.
The guy shrugged and left without much of a fight.
Dammit, Landon.
“Ugh, you suck.” I groaned, glaring at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the guy under the covers peeking out.
“You’re way out of it,” Landon said. “Here, I’ll order you an Uber.”
I shook my head furiously. “No.”
“No? You’re one drink away from getting raped. Hell, you’re probably already there.”
“Landon!” a voice snapped from behind him.
He threw his arms up. “What? Look at him!”
“I’ll call Devon,” I mumbled, fumbling my phone out of my pocket and pulling up my messages.
“Who’s Devon? Your boyfriend?”
He’s not, but I nodded anyway. “Yessir.”
“Fine. Text him so you can leave, and I can get laid.”
“As if,” the voice behind him muttered.
I focused on my screen, fighting autocorrect as I typed.
Me:
Hey
Devon babyyy
Plwease pick me uop,
One drink away from passing out kidna sorry not really but pick me up
I make sure to drop my location, then shoved the phone into my pocket.
“I’ma wait outside.”
“You sure you’re good?” Landon asked, already walking me toward the door.
I nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. “Yessir.”
***
The cold air hit me as soon as I stepped outside. I put some distance between myself and the house, too many people are passed out on the lawn, the grass littered with cups.
I wrapped my arms around myself and waited.
I know Devon lived a bit far, but this is ridiculous. Did he even get my message?
I walked farther from the house, away from the pounding music, toward the quiet. Out here, there’s nothing but empty land and the glow of the house behind me.
I pulled my phone from my pocket to check if my message went through when I heard a car pulling up beside me.
I was still a little tipsy, but even I knew that wasn’t Devon’s vehicle. I veered toward the opposite corner of the lot, but the car followed.
What…?
My pace quickened. So did theirs.
I cut sharply between two rows of parked cars. They turned with me.
The prickling at the back of my neck went from uneasy to full-on panic. I broke into a run, glancing over my shoulder, just in time for my foot to catch on a rock.
The ground slammed into me.
“Shit—”
The car screeched to a halt.
Footsteps. Heavy. Fast.
No, no, no—this was it. This was how I disappeared. Snatched off the street. Another story no one cared enough to finish.
Hands grabbed me. I fought like hell.
“Get the fuck off!” I snarled, shoving and twisting.
“Ryan!”
That voice. Even drunk, I knew it.
Silky. Steady.
“Professor.” My grin was instant, messy.
He cursed under his breath, scanning me like I was something he’d just scraped off his shoe.
“What a mess. Are you drunk?”
I shook my head too fast. “No, sir.”
His stare was flat. “I don’t believe you.”
He hauled me upright and started pulling me toward his car.
“Whoa, did you follow me?” My words slurred into each other, the giddiness buzzing low in my gut.
“You texted me,” he said, voice frayed at the edges.
I blinked at him, noticing the redness in his eyes, the faint shadow under them. The smell hit me next. Alcohol.
“You’re drunk,” I blurted, sobering up in an instant. “You drove here?”
His jaw flexed. “I’m fine.” He tightened his grip. “You texted me, what the hell did you expect?”
“I texted Devon. Not you.”
His jaw worked harder, the muscle jumping before he dropped my wrist like he didn’t want to touch me any longer than necessary.
“I don’t see anyone else here, and you’re in the middle of nowhere. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Get in the car before somebody sees me and starts connecting dots I can’t undo.”
Up close, I could see the exhaustion clinging to him. Still hot. But worn down.
The faint scruff across his jaw suited him, though I caught the clean bite of soap under the haze of alcohol.
He opened the passenger door, and I slid in. His car was a wreck, fast-food bags spilling over the console.
Jesus. One week without me, and he already looked like this?
In class, he’d been different. Colder. Distant. I’d told myself I didn’t notice.
He leaned in, buckling my seatbelt before shutting the door. I slouched low, stealing glances at him as he rounded to the driver’s side.
Was he even okay to drive?
We rolled out, his hands steady on the wheel, but after a few long, empty roads, he pulled over near a dark park and killed the engine.
“What?” I asked quietly.
He leaned into the steering wheel for a moment. “I’m drunk.” The words were low, like admitting them cost something. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Then why did you?”
No answer. Just the soft creak of his seat as he leaned back.
I unbuckled my belt and edged closer. “I thought you hated me… after—”
I let it hang, staring down at my hands.
“I don’t hate you, Ryan.” His voice was softer, but tired. “You’re my student and—”
“That’s it? That’s the only thing in the way? A title? That’s your moral line?”
He exhaled through his nose. “I hardly know you. Every time I think I’ve got a sense of you, you do something and it’s…” He shook his head.
“You know me more than most,” I murmured.
He gave a humorless huff. “Is that really saying much? You seem like a different person every time I talk to you.”
The words caught me off guard. My jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he said too quickly. “I’m just drunk.”
“No. Tell me. You’ve been holding onto that for a while.”
His gaze slid away. “You know you ruined my marriage, right?”
I didn’t look away. “Yeah.”
“I’m mad. Waking up like that… naked… I can’t stop thinking about it.
I have this idea that you drugged me.” His voice cracked, sharp with anger before falling quieter.
“That kind of thing isn’t okay, Ryan. It makes me think you need consequences, real ones, but I also know you’re a child… ” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“I’m not a child,” I snapped. “I’m twenty-three.”
He turned then, pressing a finger to my mouth. “Please, Ryan. Just listen.”
“You’re not a child,” he said, voice low, “but you’re young. And it’s obvious in the way you act.”
I stayed quiet, leaning forward just enough to drag my tongue along his finger. For a split second, his eyes locked on my mouth before he pulled away.
“I want to help you, Ryan. I do. And what I said about you… it wasn’t fair. It was cruel, and I meant it to hurt you.” His jaw flexed. “But the truth is…”
He turned toward me. “My marriage wasn’t explosive.
It just… never felt like the movies said it should.
I thought that was normal, fine enough.” He leaned back, eyes closing for a moment.
“Everything in my life has been easy. Forgiving her for cheating was easy. My job is easy. But you? You’re not easy.
You’re a puzzle piece I can’t place, and I keep trying to mold you to fit.
But you’re also young, and you deserve something more… .”
The words settled on my chest like a boulder.
I swallowed.
It sounded like he was rejecting me in the kindest way possible.
So he’d rather crawl back to a safe, boring life with a cheating ex than risk something real with me, because I was young? Messed up?
I didn’t buy it.
“You want me,” I said, eyes locking on his. He swallowed. “You’re scared I’m a fucked-up asshole, but you still want me. And I bet those tears aren’t even for your little wife, they’re for me.”
His gaze searched my face before a dry laugh slipped out. “God, you’re a brat. Didn’t hear a damn thing I said. You just caught the part where I called my wife boring.”
“Look me in the eyes,” I challenged. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me I’m ruining your life, and I’ll walk away.”
“You will? Doubt it.” He gave a humorless laugh, almost to himself, before meeting my gaze again. “You are ruining my life, Ryan.”
The words knocked the air out of me.
He leaned in, his body closing the distance until I could feel his breath warm against my lips. I wasn’t sure if the alcohol in the air was his or mine.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, and for a long second, he just stared.
“But… maybe I’ve been letting you from the start.”
He leaned in, slow enough for me to feel every inch of distance disappear. The air between us tightened, humming with something dangerous.
His hand slid up, fingers curling against my jaw, tilting my face toward him. My pulse was loud in my ears, matching the steady rise and fall of his breath.
He was close now, close enough that the faint scent of soap and whiskey wrapped around me. His gaze dropped to my mouth, lingered there, and my lips parted on instinct.
I swore I could already feel the ghost of his kiss.
His lips parted, and I moaned as his tongue swirled deep inside.
He’s mine.
All mine.
He may be in denial but what he really wanted was clear after all.
I was right the whole time.
I just had to stop giving him room to doubt or deny it.
I needed him to know he's mine, whether he liked it or not.