Page 48 of Teacher's Pet

Fantastic. More context for Elijah to latch onto like a damn bloodhound.

His eyes widen, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

"Wait. So that whole story about you moaning another guy’s name wasn’t bullshit? No wonder he face-fucked you-"

Turning my glare on him, he immediately tugs at his collar, sensing danger.

"Okay, yes, clearly it’s fucked up," he backtracks, holding his hands up. "But a meathead like Walker? The dude only knows how to drink beer and badly fuck women. Of course his default reaction is gonna be sex."

Megan smirks from the driver’s seat. "Well, Ana refuses to tell us who her mystery man is," she teases. "Maybe he’ll emerge from the shadows once he sees her cute ass crammed into that little dress-"

"He won’t be here tonight," I cut in sharply. "Can we please just focus on getting a little liquored up before I drop Walker and we ditch?"

Megan taps her fingers against the steering wheel, pretending to consider it.

"After I’ve had my rounds with the closeted girls, I’m all yours."

"I’m just here for the drama." Elijah shrugs.

Then, with zero warning, he leans forward and wraps his arms around me from behind, hugging me in my car seat like a damn koala.

"Plus, who else is gonna protect you both from the scary frat boys?" he grins.

Megan and I burst into laughter, the imagery alone enough to set us off.

All I can picture is Elijah, pepper spray in one hand, violently misting anyone who so much as breathes in his direction.

"Right," I wheeze, shaking my head. "The day you whoop someone’s ass is the day I tell you both about my mystery man."

Elijah huffs dramatically, flopping back in his seat.

"Guess I’m gonna have to beat some ass tonight."

I keep a smile plastered on my face, determined to stay positive.

But deep down?

The last thing I need tonight is anyone finding out the truth about the man who’s taken up permanent residence in my mind.

Noah

I’m going to strangle them.

No, I’m going to fucking strangle every single one of those drunk idiots.

The walls shake as bass-heavy music rattles through the building, an ungodly mix of noise and chaos. Walker’s party has mutated into a full-blown rager, bodies crashing into walls, drunken laughter spilling into the hallways like a goddamn plague.

I should’ve expected this.

Given his family owns this building, there’s no doubt in my mind why my five calls to the landlord have mysteriously been ignored.

Fucking perfect.

My grip tightens around the glass of whiskey in my hand, my eyes drifting to the bottle’s dwindling contents.

Half a bottle down.

How much am I going to regret this on a work night?

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