Chapter Two

The Night Before

“Adele!” Someone called my name and my head lifted, searching the crowded bar. I saw bodies moving against each other in a drunken dance, beers being tipped back, and in the middle of the chaos was my best friend, Leo, a glass of beer in each hand, arms above his head.

He pushed and turned, maneuvering through the crowd with the ease he owed to being a six-foot-three, broad-shouldered quarterback.

“Hey,” he said, breathless as he pushed a beer into my hand. Someone brushed by me, causing the beer to spill across my fingers. I moved the beer to my other hand and shook my wet hand.

“Hey yourself,” I returned, bringing the beer to my lips.

“What’s up with the costume?” His eyes roamed up and down and I followed his gaze, taking in what he was seeing. Skin-tight leggings, ripped up tank, leather jacket: all black. I wore my thick hair down and I was stacked on stilettos with heels narrow enough to pierce skin.

“It’s not a costume.” I tucked my hand into the front pocket of my jacket and sipped my beer again. “It’s just a little different from my school clothes.”

“I’d say. That’s some … uh, interesting eye makeup. Are you channeling Catwoman or something?”

I rolled my eyes. My eyes searched the bar before coming back to Leo. “I’m just trying something new is all.”

“Is this some kind of revenge ploy to burn Garrett?”

I shuddered thinking of Garrett, of his slimy hands and slick words, lying to me about the rumors swirling around campus, lying all the way through the moment I found him with his pants down and some pretty blonde coed sucking him off.

“She came on to me,” he’d said, as if that absolved him from any guilt.

“Hell no, Leo. Come on. I don’t need to load on the eyeliner and slide on leather to make him hurt.” My eyes searched the bar again, seeing if I recognized anyone.

“Then who are you looking for?” Leo had caught me, not that I’d been very subtle.

My eyes moved back to his and I narrowed them, shrugging, and sipped more beer. “Not sure yet.” I licked the foam from my upper lip and set the glass down. “So what’s new with you?”

Leo leaned against the bar as I sat on the stool immediately next to him, the raucous voices around us requiring him to lean forward so I could hear his answer.

“Darcy wants to cool things for a while.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Cool things? Why? You guys just started going out.”

He shrugged. “She thinks we’re moving too fast.”

“Oh, puh-lease,” I groaned. Darcy was Leo’s first real girlfriend out of high school. They had only become official a few weeks ago, over a keg of Sam Adams graciously purchased by Leo’s fancy-pants CEO daddy. She’d trailed him and, by association, me all summer long, hanging over us like a cloud of sparkle and black ringlets. I’d bared my teeth to her a few times, flirted with Leo in front of her more often than I cared to admit, but she’d snuck through his defenses and latched on like an orange-tanned little leech.

Leo raised his eyebrows and blew out a breath, seemingly as confused as me. “She’s worried I’ll distract her.”

“You?” I asked incredulously. “She’s the one who showed up to your practice and screamed hysterically when you were sacked. She’s worried you’ll distract her?” I laughed. Long, loud.

When Leo didn’t laugh along with me, I reached a hand forward and patted his shoulder. “Poor baby, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make fun, really. But you have to admit she’s a little bit over the top.”

With a slight nod of his head, he peered down at his beer. “Yeah, okay. She did start washing and folding my boxer briefs when I wasn’t home. I don’t even fold them.”

I laughed again. When he didn’t seem to join me still, I squeezed his shoulder and dropped my hand. “Come on, Leo. We’re twenty-one. Darcy isn’t the one you’ll imprison with a ring someday.” Looking around the bar, I said, “Let’s take your mind off of Darcy tonight.” It sounded more sexually suggestive than I’d meant, and Leo glanced up at me, brown eyes searching mine.

“Get real, Madsen. Not ever.” I shook my head at him and finally earned a small lift of his lips. “Finish your beer and I’ll buy you some big boy shots.”

By the third beer and second shot, my bladder was protesting against the compression of my leggings and I left Leo with some blonde he’d snagged on the way back to the table with round four. I did the need-to-pee dance all the way to the bathroom, the liquor causing me to fumble a few times, falling against the wall.

After washing and drying my hands, I ran my fingers through my hair, tousling the slight waves I’d added to it, before reapplying my eyeliner and lip gloss.

After I pushed through the door to exit the bathroom, I collided with a wall of heat.

I stumbled backward, a slide reel of my life flashing before my eyes, ending with a vision of my skyscraper heels taking me out, my brains splayed across the bathroom tile.

“Whoa.” An arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me up and forward, my body colliding once again with the wall of warmth. My fingers clutched his chest, nails digging into leather.

My eyelids slid open; my heartbeat slowed. I met his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, in a voice that would have been a whisper were it not for the loud around us. “I got you.”

I searched his face. Blue-green eyes, the color of a shallow tropical lake. Jet black hair, sticking up all over. A well-defined jaw line covered in a few weeks’ growth of black facial hair. Brown eye glasses hanging from the front of his cornflower blue shirt, right in the center of his leather jacket he wore open.

I waited for him to say something.

“You alright?”

Not really what I was hoping for. I nodded my head a little more frantically than I’d intended, my blonde hair falling all over my face. I peered up at his eyes, looking for a spark of recognition, looking for anything that told me he recognized me.

After staring at one another for several seconds, three things became immediately clear:

1. Professor Easton didn’t recognize me as his student.

2. Professor Easton was fucking hot. I’d only seen him from my seat in his class, yards and yards away. Being mere inches from him made my blood warm, my legs tingle.

3. I was still holding onto him and he was still holding on to me.

I tilted my head, causing my hair to fall back over my shoulder. His eyes traveled to my exposed neck and stayed there for a beat, before returning to my eyes.

“What’s your name?”

I debated telling him a lie. I compromised, telling him a nickname instead. “Add.”

“Add?” He raised one thick, well defined eyebrow. “Like Math?”

“Yes.” It came out breathier than I wanted. “What’s yours?”

“Nathan.” It was also a nickname, I knew, as my syllabus had listed one Nathaniel Easton. He didn’t look old enough to be a professor, but he had a solid ten years on me.

“Hi, Nathan.” I licked my lips, coming away with gloss. “Wanna dance?”

Nathan looked surprised. His lips opened as if he was going to instantly say no, but he hesitated. I wasn’t usually that bold, but with my all black costume and sex hair and Dr. Easton looking—let’s be honest—absolutely fucking mouth-watering ... well, I would have kicked myself in the ass with my pin needle heels if I hadn’t tried to take advantage of this cliché meet-cute.

“Dance?” He looked over his shoulder, but didn’t shift his body to let me go. “I’m not much of a dancer.” He turned back to me, eyes roaming my face, trying to figure me out.

“Mm,” I purred, my fingers slowly crawling up his chest, thumbs brushing in their wake. I looked up at him under my lashes. “It’s easy.” My hands clasped his shoulders, squeezing slightly, and I stepped closer, so we were stomach to stomach, my eyes inches from his; my mouth breathing his air. I tilted my head again, letting my hair fall to one side and brought my lips to his ear. “Move with me,” I said, lips brushing his lobe. I pulled back to meet his gaze as I dipped my hips, sliding along his body like water.