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19
Luke
Natalie wound down the window, while rapidly wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Sexy.
“Jesus Christ, Luke, you scared the living crap out of me. What the fuck are you doing here? Are stalking me, or some shit?”
Her anger and indigence were mismatched with her watery-red rimmed eyes, tear-streaked face, and running nose.
“Hey. Um…no, not stalking. Just pissing my brother off by skipping rehearsal to catch a late lecture. I’m doing a few optional classes to pick up extra credits. I was heading back to my car when I saw yours with the light on.” I often took a short cut through the staff car park, kidding myself that it wasn’t in the hope that I might run into Natalie, and I never had, until that night.
“You okay?”
“Yeah I’m fine. Just heading home.”
She was clearly very far from fine, so I wasn’t sure why I’d even asked the question, let alone why she’d bothered to lie in response.
She fired up the engine and made like she was about to start driving away.
“Whoa!” I bent down so that my face was almost level with hers, looking through the window.
“You’re not going to tell me what’s wrong?”
She blinked rapidly, looking at me as though she had no idea who I even was.
“Why would I? It’s none of your business.”
She was right, it wasn’t, but I really wanted it to be. So fucking bad.
“I guess not. Although, the way I figure it, anything that’s bothering a friend of mine is one hundred percent my business.”
“But that’s just the thing.” She drew a ragged breath before continuing. “I’m not your friend. I’m your lecturer, and you’re my student. Period.”
You can keep telling yourself that, but it doesn’t make it true.
“Yeah, okay. I’d buy that if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re the only one of my lecturers I’ve been down on, and who has come so hard on my face she’s begged me to stop. You’re most definitely the only one whose sweet pussy I’ve had wrapped around my dick, the memory of which I’ve been jerking off too so much I think I may have carpal tunnel. And I’m sure I’d remember if there were any other lecturers I’d been sexting with to the point where after reading one of my messages, they’ve had to conduct an entire lecture with wet panties, clasping their legs together so they don’t come. And what abou—”
“All right, all right. You don’t need to remind me. I was there.”
“Okay, so you look like you need cheering up, and lucky for you, I’m here and making people feel good is my super power. Plus, I know just the place to go and things to do to drown your sorrows.” I couldn’t keep the grin from my face at the thought of what I have in mind.
“Seriously, Luke, I’m not in the mood. I just want to go home and find enlightenment in the bottom of a bottle of Shiraz.”
“Great. I love red wine.” I hated it. “Let’s go.”
“What? No. I meant alone.”
“Sorry, but no. Friends don’t leave friends alone when they’re in a funk like this.” Ugh. I needed to stop and try to walk away with some shred of dignity, yet I just couldn’t bring myself to leave.
“Jesus Christ. I don’t have the energy for this right now. Get in the car before someone sees you.”
Dignity intact—kind of—I jogged around to the driver’s side of Natalie’s Miata, and hopped in.
I sat down and barely had the door closed behind me before she’d peeled away from the lot like a getaway driver, turning the music up full blast. Clearly talking wasn’t on the agenda, so I kept my mouth shut and watched the world go by at breakneck pace. I’d had no idea she was such a speed demon, and the thought—and vaguely terrifying experience—gave me an instant adrenalin boner. It was hot AF.
I shifted a little in my seat, trying to ease some of the pressure on my dick from my pants, and looked up to catch her glancing at my crotch before snatching her eyes back to the road, thank God. I’d always said I wanted to go out with a bang, but I’d had more of a bedroom situation in mind, not a painfully hard boner in a high-speed crash. I didn’t miss the tell-tale way she shifted in her seat as she stared straight ahead, which made me even harder.
A little while later, we pulled into an under-cover parking garage I assumed to be in Natalie’s apartment building. Not that she’d said so, or in fact, had said anything throughout the entirety of the journey. She screeched to a halt in a parking bay, and before I’d engaged my brain enough to ask any questions, was out of the car and making her way to the passenger-side door. She yanked it open quickly and spoke to me like a sergeant major corralling wayward troops.
