Page 46 of Solo

“Okay, enough, already!”

His volume startles me and I feel my heart pick up pace under my shirt. His shirt.

“You’re right,” he mumbles after a long, awkward silence.

“I’m what?”

“You heard me. You’re right. I’m harder on you than everyone else. But let me ask you something. Has it made you think on your feet? Study more, study deeper? Has it made you a better student?”

Holy fucking shit. My fingers twitch with my desire to throw this wine in his strong-jawed, dark-eyed, sexy-stubbled face. Bastard. No fair looking sexy when I’m so pissed off.

“Fine.” I huff petulantly. “Yes. You’ve made me a better student and you’ve made me a better conductor, and it makes me absofuckinglutely furious!” I roar with irritation.

I register just the hint of a slur in my words. And the profanity. Slurry profanity. Must be a hallmark of my tipsiness. I nod to confirm my own statement and promptly drain the glass of riesling I’m holding before reaching over to pour myself another glass, draining the bottle before he can.

“Good,” he says in an obnoxiously calm tone. “I’m glad you’re a better conductor because of me.”

I try to eviscerate him with my steely stare. It doesn’t work. He just looks at me, unfazed and amused.

“Oh no, no, no!” I yell, wagging my finger at him. “Don’t you dare say that like it’s a good thing!”

“Well, isn’t it?” he challenges.

“Yes!” I shout. “Wait, I mean no! Christ—I mean, don’t pretend you do it for my benefit when all you want to do is fucking torment me!” I’m shaking with rage. “God! You are such. An. Ass!”

Uh-oh.

Even in my woozy state I realize I might have just gone a step too far. I cringe a little, as if bracing myself for the ugliness that’s about to spew forth from my professor. But ugliness isn’t what spews. It’s riesling. A mouthful of it when he snorts with laughter.

“Oh! Oh, Jesus.” He howls, much to my confusion. And dismay. “You’re right, Katherine, I am an ass!”

I can’t resist. I abandon my pissiness in favor of laughing, too. “I know! Right? You are such an ass!”

He nods, tears starting to stream down his face, wine soaking into his sweatshirt. “But to be fair,” he says, holding up his index finger, “you bring out the ass in me.”

I consider this for a second as our laughter subsides.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll give you that,” I say, considerably more reasonable than I was just a bit earlier. “Hey, did you say there was more wine somewhere?”

Chapter Twenty

Drew

We’re halfway through the third bottle. It’s chardonnay and she doesn’t seem to like it as much as the riesling, but I only had two bottles of that in the house. That’s okay, though, because it makes her slow down a little. I, on the other hand, pick up her slack.

“So, your project,” I begin.

“The one that’s outside, encased in ice and snow?”

“Yes, that one.”

“What about it?”

“When it thaws, is it going to be as good as what you turned in the other day?”

“Better,” she informs me.

“I see.”