Page 82 of Taste of Addiction

“I can’t tell if you’re laughingatme or justnearme,” he says with a smile, handing me my beverage.

“What’s this?” I ask, looking at the side for a description but finding nothing.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh boy.”

Bryce smiles. “You could use a little excitement in your life.”

I take a sip of the warm drink. It is delicious and tastes of nutmeg, cinnamon, and vanilla. “How do you figure?”

“You look,” he says slowly, looking thoughtfully at my face, making me feel self-conscious, “tired.”

This is true. Graham had me on every surface of his office this morning, and when we almost got interrupted by Kylie during round three, I nearly had a heart attack. It didn’t stop me from reaching my climax, though. At that point I lost count of how many I endured.

“How have you been?” I ask.

His smile says it all. “Good. Really good. I’m officially off the market.”

“What? Really? Who’s the scarf-wearing queen?”

“Very funny. But I have upgraded my tastes in women, after I realized I could harness my charm and use it for the greater good.”

“This is exciting. So you’re done pining after Professor Turkey Neck?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, she arrives through the side door and makes her way to the podium, clearing her throat and greeting the class.

Bryce leans over and whispers to me, “Pretty sure Turkey Neck will be joining us—in a figurative sense—inside the bed.”

“That’s”—I try to look horrified—“weird.”

“You can meet her after class. She’s meeting me here.”

I nod. “I can’t wait to see if she exists.”

He makes a scrunched up face and sticks out his tongue at me.

Class goes by nauseatingly slow, and the sound of the professor constantly clearing her throat into her microphone makes me have a headache. She may have the start of bronchitis. My mind wanders during the presentation, and I start to freak myself out over going to see the doctors today. Despite feeling a lot better than I did days ago, I know I still need to work through my addiction. If I skip some steps along the way, I may relapse and find myself even further into the hole than before.

Class ends and Bryce walks me out into the fresh winter air while we wait for his girlfriend to arrive. And she does.

“Angie, this is—”

I turn to see her walking up the sidewalk. “Hanna.”

“Yes, Hanna,” Bryce answers with a curious tone to his voice.

“We met before,” Hanna interrupts with a fake smile. “Hello, Angie.”

I force my lips to curl up at the awkwardness of this meeting. The once pixie brunette with a flirty retro style is now a fierce and fiery redhead, with wavy locks, dressed in modern-day overalls and a sweater. She looks cute. Like she moved on from being Graham’s assistant based on the glow to her skin. The last time I saw her, she was crying outside HH, and I was bleeding from her broken picture frame.

I want to ask her if she still blames me for her losing her job. I never wanted that to happen to her, and yet I feel the pangs of guilt. I want to apologize, but I also want to forget about the whole situation entirely.

“How are you doing, Hanna?”

“Well, this is bizarre,” Bryce interjects. “How do you guys know each other? Did you two”—his smile elongates into a straight line—“date?”

My mouth drops at his question. “What? No!”

“Her boyfriend is my ex-boss.”

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