Page 16 of Autumn's Coming

Chapter Six

Cody

I was right—going out with Dylan had been a mistake.

The sunlight hurt my eyes. I was tired, my head throbbing.

I hadn’t been drunk enough to throw up, but still.

Dylan was faring much worse. He’d texted me this morning to let me know that, even though he’d puked twice and couldn’t open his eyes enough to drive, he was on his way to work in a Lyft and would run the meeting for me.

That still made me nervous.

If I went out with them again, I needed to lay off the alcohol.

And, oddly, I wanted to go out again.

I wanted to go back to Bounce.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that girl. She was gorgeous. Not much of a dancer, but a stunning woman with beautiful eyes. Her body was perfect—exactly what I wanted from a woman. I wondered what the rest of her face looked like. The mask had hidden too much.

The way she’d bounced on that stage had made it impossible to think of anything but her riding my cock.

She was still on my mind as I turned into the parking garage, parking in one of the spots my permit allowed for.

I hadn’t gotten her name.

She had started to tell me, and then Dylan had tried to pick a fight with somebody.

I had no idea how to find this woman, and it was all I wanted to do.

I grabbed my laptop bag from the passenger seat, sighing as I left the parking garage. It took me a few minutes to find where I needed to go.

And when I checked my watch, I saw that I was running late. This wasn’t at all the way I wanted my morning to go.

I walked into the room. It was already packed, only a few empty seats.

Shit.

For a second, I just looked at the students.

“Sorry,” I said. “I—uh. Traffic.”

I put my computer bag on the counter and turned to the whiteboard. I grabbed one of the markers and popped it open.

“I assume you all did your reading.” I didn’t look back, moving to another spot on the board and starting on a list of bullet points—topics from the homework to discuss in class.

The door opened.

I didn’t look.

“You’re late. You received the syllabus over email, did you not? You know that means a zero for your class participation grade.”

I heard the student, a boy, mumble an apology.

“Front row. Sit there.”

“Yes, sir.”

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