Page 2 of Baby for the Professor
"I know. Don't cry, please. Jeez. Crying isn't your style, girl. You know what? Why don't you join us at Ruby's?"
"No, I think I'm going back to the dorm."
Ruby's was a club off campus where Emily often hung out with her other friends. I was a good girl who preferred the library to bars.
“Are you sure?” Emily asked.
I was going to answer but recalled that Kevin once said I was too uptight and should let myself loose. Was that the reason he didn't love me anymore? Was Samantha more fun to be with?”
"You know what? Emily. I'll be there."
I released the brakes and headed toward Ruby’s Bar. Minutes later, I opened the double door, stepped into the building, and was instantly greeted by loud music and cool air. The merry atmosphere made me forget my misery right away. I took a deep breath as I searched for Emily and her friends. A voice whispered in my head:Time to start a new chapter of my life.
Chapter 2
Jackson
It was the last day of the spring quarter, and Ruby's was extra crowded tonight. The music was also louder than usual as people celebrated the end of their college lives.
I usually would have just one beer each time I visited here, but I was having my third glass of Heineken because tonight might be my last visit at Ruby’s. I wanted to stay as long as possible because I was going to miss this place. Thanks to it, I got through four painfully long years working on my Ph.D. in economics without losing my mind. Whenever I thought I couldn’t take the stress anymore, I would come here, have a drink, relax, and then leave feeling recharged.
I watched young college students laugh and squeal as they chugged beer and recalled my college days. I had partied quite often back then and behaved no different from them, getting crazy drunk once in a while. Recalling those drunken parties brought a smile to my face. I couldn't believe I was such an idiot once, treating my body like a toxin filter.
In the past four years, however, I had been a responsible grad student. I hadn’t binge-drunk even once, nor had I attended late-night parties. Hell, I hadn’t even dated seriously. I had been more or less a monk. Besides school work, I was a TA and part-time instructor at a community college in LA. I hardly had a life.
“I still can’t believe it’s all over,” Monica said. We were in the same cohort and had the same grad advisor.
“I know,” I said. “I thought I would never make it with the way they attacked me at my thesis defense.”
She chuckled. “Come on, if you couldn’t make it, what about the rest of us?”
I rolled my eyes. Monica had a habit of self-deprecating, although she was actually our advisor’s favorite. “Like you needed to worry. You are the only one who got a job offer right here.”
“Shit. Now I feel guilty,” she said with a giggle. “Come on. If it makes you feel better, let me remind you it’s just a temporary position. Besides, you got a fellowship at Harvard!”
“I would trade it for your teaching position if you wish.”
“I didn’t know you liked UCLA so much?” she said.
“I do. It’s a beautiful campus. And I like LA.” I grew up on the East Coast and never liked the weather there. Even with its wildfire and earthquakes, LA was still a paradise to me.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find your way back here one day.”
“I hope so!”
“Let’s toast,” Monica’s boyfriend John, also a grad student in our cohort, suggested, raising his glass. “To the exciting academic life ahead of us!”
We clinked our glasses. “Cheers!”
Our conversation soon turned to the recent Nobel Prize winner in economics. Monica was an ardent supporter of government intervention in free markets.
“I totally agree with Dr. Nordaus that imposing tax on carbon emissions is the best way to combat climate change,” she said enthusiastically.
I nodded and was going to comment on that when the door of the bar opened, and a girl who looked like a college student stepped in. She paused at the door for a moment, glancing around uncertainly as if trying to get used to the strange environment around her, but soon abandoned her shyness and entered bravely. My eyes followed her as she went to a table next to us, where her friends were. A girl hugged her and patted her, and they sat down.
Fuck. What got into me? Why was my cock twitching? The girl was beautiful. She was wearing something that didn’t fit the bar setting—an elegant mauve silk dress with a plunging neckline that showed just a bit of her cleavage. She also wore classy pearl earrings, and her hair styled into a French twist, although some strands had fallen and were hanging down her cheeks. The mascara smudged under her eyes suggested she had been crying.
My curiosity was piqued. What had happened to her? A date went wrong?
