Page 3 of Damaged Professor

The question catches me completely off guard, my mouth popping open. Before I get a chance to gather myself and respond, warm hands press against my bare shoulders.

“Hang on, Mister. The birthday girl has to steal this one!” Nichole chirps.

She pulls me back to the jukebox. “How did you know I needed a save?”

Nichole blinks. “I mean, I’m going to take the compliment, but I actually stole you for a totally selfish reason.” She gives me another one of those guilty smiles. “Danny is heading out to another bar with his friends, and I was going to, you know, go with them? But I didn’t want to just leave you here, so… Do you want me to call you a cab?”

I stare at her. “I knew you were going to ditch me.”

“I mean—birthday exemption?” Nichole asks, doe eyed. “Come on, don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.” I look over my shoulder, at where Dylan is sitting. I don’t say anything, just thinking over my options. I’ve decided to come back because I do want to move on with my life.

Maybe…

Maybe there’s more than one way that I need to move on.

“Abby?” Nichole asks.

“It’s fine. Go have fun. I think I’ve already got a ride home,” I tell her.

Nichole’s whole expression lights up, as if I’ve just told her she won a prize. “Oh, Abby! Good for you!”

“Hey, Nichole!” Danny waves from the door. “You coming?”

“I’m coming!” Nichole throws her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for another hug and a kiss, and then hurrying off with her new friend.

I take a deep breath. If I really want to, I can just call myself a cab. But…

I look over at Dylan again, who’s almost finished his drink.

He’s handsome, and funny, and sweet.

I decide, then and there, that I’m not going to let my past hold me back any longer. James would want me to move on—and I really want to go home with Dylan.

Chapter two

Dylan

IwassurethatI’d be going home alone tonight when Abby came back. She’s a lovely thing, with sandy blonde hair hanging right above her shoulders and bright green eyes. Her black tank top is tight enough to reveal she isn’t wearing a bra, and her denim jeans are short enough to reveal the freckles scattered over her thighs.

“Is that ride still on the table?” Abby asks.

I smile at her, sliding the empty bottle and a hundred-dollar bill towards the bartender. I get up without waiting for my change, offering her my hand. “For someone like you? The offer’s always there. I already called my driver. He should be here in five.”

“Your driver?”

“I’ve only had two beers, but I don’t like to drive if I’ve been to the bar.”

“No, I mean, you have a driver?”

I laugh a bit, carefully choosing my words.

“Not exactly. I only call him on instances like this, it’s more like a service,” I say although it’s one of the rare instances I do want to show off.

Abby nods and takes my hand as she lets me lead her out of The Howling Monkey. It’s a warm night out. There are a few lights on, making the street seem bright even though it’s got to be close to midnight at this point. The semester doesn’t start for another week, which means this is probably the last overnight outing I’m going to have for a while.

We’re not out for long before my driver pulls up. I hold the door open for Abby. She smiles, a little perplexed, and slides in. As soon as I’m in the car, she scoots a little closer to me. It looks like she wants something to happen but isn’t certain how to make that come about.

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