Chapter 15 #2
After we have our drinks in hand, Sam bulldozes through the crowd a second time to an empty standing table. Derek yells something about the dance floor, gesturing wildly at the bright lights before taking off.
“Okay, so what’s the deal?” Sam yells over the music. “Why are we out at this loud-ass club instead of our favorite bar?”
I shrug. “I just wanted a change of scenery,” I say, starting to sound like a broken record.
He raises a skeptical eyebrow at me, clearly not believing a single word out of my mouth. “You can tell me, Summer,” he says seriously. “Whatever it is… you can tell me.”
“I know,” I respond, so quietly it’s nearly a whisper. Sam waits patiently for me to continue, sipping on his margarita. “I did something… bad.”
“I do bad things daily, I’m going to need more context here.”
I take a large sip of my apple martini and resist the urge to rub my temples; a headache is starting to throb behind my eyes. Derek waves wildly at us from the dance floor, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch Sam sharply shaking his head at him and waving him off.
“I made out with our professor,” I let out in a rush.
Sam blinks at me. “Which one?”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”
“Professor Stirling?” he shouts in disbelief.
“Shut up,” I hiss, though I doubt anyone can hear anything over the thumping music.
“Uh, I’m sorry, when did this happen?”
“Halloween.”
“You were with us on Halloween.”
“It was in the bathroom.”
“Summer!” he gasps. “You got nasty with our Counseling Theories professor in a bar bathroom?”
“It was not my finest moment,” I grumble.
“Oh, I’m not judging at all,” he assures me. “I just wish he played for my team.” Sam pauses and seems to think something over. “Do you think maybe he could play for both?”
“Seriously?”
“A guy can dream,” he sniffs defensively.
“Sam, I could get kicked out of the program.”
Sam gestures at Derek and mimes taking a shot.
Derek eagerly nods before disappearing into the crowd in the direction of the bar.
“Look,” Sam starts. “Am I going to downplay the possible consequences of your actions? No. You’re right, you could get kicked from the program, and he could lose his job, but is that really what’s scaring you? ”
“What else about this situation would scare me?”
He gulps down the remainder of his margarita before saying, “Summer… you haven’t dated anyone throughout the entirety of your time in the program.”
“So?”
“So… what makes Professor Stirling so special?” I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water as I search for any kind of response. “Do you think there’s a small part of you that’s worried about developing real feelings for him, so you’re searching for any sort of reason not to pursue him?”
“I think the concerns I have regarding a completely inappropriate relationship are entirely valid.”
“I didn’t say they weren’t. I was just asking if there was any other reason you were trying to convince yourself that what you did was so wrong.
You’re both consenting adults. Is he in a position of power?
Yes. Do I trust that you would tell me if he was holding your grades over your head so that you would put out?
Yes. Therefore, I think there’s something about him that genuinely interests you, and since I haven’t seen that reaction out of you with any other guys…
I don’t know, Summer. I think it might be something worth seeing through. ”
“He could lose his job, Sam.”
“Who’s going to find out?”
“I don’t know… anyone?”
“Well, I’m not going to tell anyone, are you?”
“I just told you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Okay, are you going to tell anyone besides me?”
“No.”
“Exactly, and I doubt he’s out here telling the world about what happened. So, if you have an open and honest conversation with him, and both agree to keep things under wraps until it’s more socially acceptable… what’s stopping you?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You just want me to get laid.”
“It’s totally possible,” he nods as he waves at an approaching Derek. “But I also want you to be happy, Summer. And if you think there’s even a little possibility of that with this guy… then I say rules be damned.”
Derek finally reaches us, a huge beaming smile stretching from ear to ear as he hands us our shots. “I took a wild guess and figured it was a tequila kind of night!” he shouts over the music.
I smile and try to give a nod of gratitude before downing the liquor.
After I finish my drink and Sam coaxes another shot into me, the boys finally talk me into making my way to the dance floor.
I’m trying to have fun, I really am. But the lights are so bright, and it feels like the base is pounding an incessant beat into my brain. I should have just sucked up the possibility of running into Asher—Professor Stirling, goddammit—and just gone to The Pour House.
What? Just because I’m afraid I can’t control myself means I have to avoid my favorite bar? Forever? What if I stay in Seattle after graduating?
Well, after you’ve graduated, running into Asher really won’t be a problem anymore, now will it?
I push the dark little thought out of my mind and try to focus on whatever the words are in the song that’s screeching over the stereos. Thoughts like that will only get me in trouble.
Sam and Derek are all over each other, and a tinge of jealousy zips through me at how unapologetically happy they look.
I envy them. I have always been content being alone; it’s never bothered me that I spend more time on school than on dating.
But now, seeing how happy someone could be with the right person? I want that.
Or maybe I’m only feeling this way because of how Asher has been making me feel. The way I felt with him when we played pool. In the elevator. When he gave me the book. I felt seen. Wanted. Desired. Valued.
Sam leans in and gives Derek a light kiss, and my bitter heart melts just a bit.
Sam has always been the opposite of me. He’s never been afraid to give his heart to others, and that’s always something I’ve admired about him.
Though the idea terrifies me, and I’ve seen Sam heartbroken more than I can count, he loves so deeply that it wouldn’t surprise me if Sam had multiple great loves throughout his life.
Looking at him now, with Derek, I hope this one lasts.
There’s something different here. There’s an ease to their interactions that doesn’t come with just anyone, but with these two, it’s just natural.
I yell an excuse over the deafening music to the two guys before pushing my way through the sweaty throng of people toward the bar. I know I shouldn’t—risking a hangover tomorrow won’t be worth the eventual guilt trip from my mother—but I need another drink.
I reach the bar and wait patiently for the over-run bartender to notice me. I pull sticky strands of hair away from my neck and fan my face to try to cool myself off.
I order an apple martini just as a prickling sensation along my spine makes me straighten up. I feel his gaze before I see him.
Asher is here. What the fuck is he doing here?
I slowly turn and see him in the corner of the club, nursing a beer, and glowering at me.
He’s at a table alone, wearing a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark jeans.
I can feel the heat of his stare travel down my body, taking in my bare legs, before resting on my exposed cleavage.
Suddenly, I’m grateful that Sam and Derek forced me to change. Let Asher see what he’s missing out on. Especially since he obviously was trying to avoid seeing it.
I completely ignore the fact that I, too, was attempting to avoid running into him.
The whole Halloween-bathroom-fiasco seems humiliating now.
Especially since we’re both clearly attempting not to cross paths with each other, and God—my face flames at the reminder—how easy it was for him to send me completely over the edge. Fully clothed. Minimal touching.
Mortifying.
Just thinking about it makes me simultaneously want to repeat it and drop his class and never see him again.
Unfortunately, neither of those options is going to work for me.
So, I choose to ignore him. It’s a big club. There’s no need for either of us to talk to each other. I can stay on the dance floor when he grabs a drink, and once he clears out, I’ll grab a refill. Rinse, wash, repeat.
I pay for my martini and force my way through the crowd to Sam and Derek. They’re still plastered to each other but break away to shout excitedly when I return. Sam’s eyes flit over my shoulder, stopping on something before he breaks out into an excited smile.
Sam bumps my shoulder and wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Is that who I think it is?” he yells over the music while nodding his head in Asher’s direction.
“Don’t,” I say, immediately shutting him down.
“I’m just saying, what are the odds?”
“The odds of what?” Derek hollers next to us.
“Our professor is here!”
“At a club?” Derek asks incredulously. “Aren’t they all old?”
“He’s not that old,” I respond defensively.
“Yeah,” Sam says with a devious smirk. “One might say he’s the perfect age for someone looking for a partner with a little more maturity.”
I give Sam my best I’m-going-to-murder-you glare, but he studiously ignores me.
Derek asks Sam to grab him another drink while he runs to the restroom before disappearing into the mob behind him. Sam turns to me and gives me a knowing smile.
“Whatever you’re about to say,” I start. “I want you to really think it over and decide if it’s a good idea.”
Sam widens his eyes, feigning a look of innocence. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” Then he’s gone, heading toward the bar.
I awkwardly sway back and forth, unsure of myself now that I’m standing in a crowd alone. Ugh, I should’ve suggested we go literally anywhere else. I hate dancing.
“You have got to be kidding me,” a familiar deep voice sounds behind me, sending tingles along my spine. Sam hasn’t even been gone for a full minute.