Page 182 of Rock Me All Night
5
Drew: Kendrick, I have a thought.
The buzz of my phone lulls me out of my finance class-induced boredom. I check to make sure the coast is clear. There are only twenty people and I'm right in the professor's eyeline.
I wait until he turns back to his PowerPoint presentation and tap a reply.
Kara: Don't leave me waiting in breathless suspense.
Drew: That's awfully poetic for a text.
Kara: Maybe I should be the one who writes Sinful Serenade's lyrics.
Drew: You better not let Miles hear that.
Kara: Miles should be more concerned about what he makes me hear.
Drew: You didn't like the free audio porn?
Kara: No.
Drew: We'll get him back eventually.
The person next to me clears her throat. And here I thought we all outgrew being the teacher's pet in third grade.
I drop my phone in my lap so it's out of view. It buzzes again.
Holy shit.
It's right between my legs. It's pressed up against my clit. That buzz is so...
I bite my lip so I won't react. This is so not the place. I try to grab the phone but it buzzes again.
The teacher's pet scowls at me. She shakes her head like she finds me distasteful. I mouthsorry. There. I shove the still buzzing phone in my purse.
The professor turns back to the class. He's looking right at me. I grab my pen and dutifully copy the notes from the slide. Eyes on the paper. I'm totally paying attention. I'm in college. Of course, I'm paying attention. It's not like I don't understand anything in my finance classes. It's not like I absolutely loathe my major and the plan my mom has set out for me: joining her company after I graduate.
I look around the room. The professor is lost in his dull lecture. The teacher's pet is lost in her obscenely neat notes.
Under my chair, my entire purse vibrates. I better turn the thing off. That story checks out. It's not like I'm grabbing it so I can reply to Drew's texts. Not at all.
Drew: What are you doing tonight?
Drew: I hope nothing, because we need to pick out furniture.
Drew: I'll pick you up at 7:30. Your place.
* * *
Drew plucksa vase from a wooden shelf. He stares at it like he can't understand its mystical and magical powers. It's a vase. It decorates and holds flowers. There's nothing to understand.
He moves to a tiny table. It only seats two and it looks wobbly as all hell. He slides into one of the rickety wood laminate seats and picks up the plastic glass that's sitting on the table.
"Do you see yourself drinking coffee here?" he asks.
"I don't drink coffee."
He motions for me to take the other seat. I fight my desire to roll my eyes but I comply. There's something magnetic about Drew. I can't say no to him.
