Page 3 of Chasing Amanda

The pierced server returned, the dim lights reflecting off the bolt in her nose. “Amanda said you needed another round.” She handed out the drinks, careful to balance the professor’s appletini as she lifted it across the table. He didn’t take it from her. Instead, he looked down her shirt when she leaned over to set it in front of him.

Drunk, conspiracy theorist, pervert. The list grew.

Why was Mark trying to have a reasonable discussion with this guy and his pathetic fan club? They were already back to their stupid talk about their stupid ideas that had no place in the real world.

After the server handed Mark his beer, she laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.”

Mark thanked her, pretending he hadn’t heard the invitation, and concentrated on sipping his beer.

Where was that blonde? Amanda, the other server had called her.

There, handing out longnecks to a bunch of guys crowded around a table with too few chairs. She was smiling now.

She had a beautiful smile.

Most people here were younger than Mark. His friend, the eternal student, had dragged him here tonight, and it might’ve been fun if not for Professor Lightweight and his fan club. The bar was packed now, people filling every square inch of the place—standing, drinking, flirting. Five women—barely twenty-one, if he had to guess—threw back test tubes full of green liquid. They’d regret that in the morning. A man and woman were making out in a corner, and they weren’t the only ones getting too friendly in a public place. Students occupied every stool and chair, and more lined the bar three or four deep, clamoring for drinks.

The hair on the back of Mark’s neck stood up.

He scanned the room again, more slowly. There, by the window at a table for two, a young man sat alone. Hoodie pulled up over his head, yellow-blond hair sticking out underneath. Mark followed his gaze to the blond server. The man watched her as she took drink orders from a table a few feet away.

When Mark watched her mouth and focused, he could hear her voice above the din. She sounded carefree now that those two jerks were gone.

But the hooded guy by the windows was still watching.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck but couldn’t wipe away the feeling. Something was wrong.

Beside him, Justin was saying, “You should see this guy in action.” He tilted his amber-colored bottle in Mark’s direction. “The women this guy gets. We should’ve all been Marines, eh?”

Mark raised his eyebrows. “That’s why I joined.”

The professor’s skin had turned an unattractive shade of puce. Any second, he’d lose his liquor.

“It’s true, right? Since the attack?” Justin elbowed Mark, splashing his beer on his T-shirt.

He grabbed a cocktail napkin and soaked up the liquid. “I’ll admit women have been a bit more... grateful in the last couple of months.” Mark had never lacked for dates. He usually contented himself to be his buddies’ wingman and went home alone.

Fewer complications.

Justin raised his glass. “See? Still never getting married, right?”

“Unlike you. Does your fiancée know she’s going to have to forever support your addiction to school?”

“Nah. I’ll finish my master’s this fall and hopefully”—he nodded to the professor— “be hired full-time next summer.”

The professor picked up the conversation, and Mark tuned out, scanning the bar again.

Hoodie still had his eyes on the server, who didn’t seem to realize she was being watched.

Then, just like that, she stepped out the front door. End of her shift? He glanced at his watch. It was just after eleven.

He looked up in time to see the creepy guy in the hoodie follow her.

The hair on the back of his neck rose again, and this time, Mark rose with it. He tossed a twenty on the table. “I’ll meet you back at your condo.”

Justin started to stand, but Mark dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Stay. Have fun. I’ll see you later.”

CHAPTER TWO