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Oh, yeah, Daddy issues.
“Of course you’re not.”
“I’m eighteen!”
“And in America you have to be twenty-one to drink.”
“Well it’s a stupid rule anyway,” I argue petulantly, one step away from sticking my tongue out at him. If the others are drinking, I don’t see why I can’t.
Shit. I realise I don’t even know how old any of them are. I just assumed we were all the same age, or thereabouts. I remember thinking Reef looked too young to be a doctor. But…they’re not getting scolded by the professor for drinking. Why me?
I deal with that by grabbing the nearest drink to me – Reef’s – and shooting it back.
Big mistake. As soon as the amber liquor touches my lips I realise that Reef is drinking the professor’s poison of choice. It tastes exactly how he smelled in class that day.
And it’s fucking delicious.
I lick my lips and slam the glass back on the table a little harder than necessary, shooting the professor a look which Ihopeis more defiant than horny.
“Be that as it may, we are responsible for your safety, and this, getting drunk on a Sunday night? This isn’t safe.”
“But itisfun. Maybe you should try removing the stick from your uptight arse and trying it.” A deadly silence falls upon the room and I realise that I might have gone a drink too far. I stop breathing when the professor marches over to where I’m sitting, towering over me. He reaches out, wraps a surprisingly strong hand around my bicep and pulls me to my feet.
“Vance—” Reef warns.
Huh? Who’s Vance?
The professor bares his teeth at Reef in a silent snarl, and it slowly dawns on me that the prof probably isn’t his real name.Vance. I like it. It suits him.
I can imagine myself calling it in the throes of—
Nope.
“I’m taking Malia to sober up,” he barks, his tone brokering no argument. The others don’t even try to protest, but they do shoot me sympathetic looks as the prof drags me around the couch Bhodi bent me over and up the stairs.
“Hey! Slow down,” I complain when I stumble and hit my shin on the stairs. Maybe the drink has me moving slower, but mostly it’s just because this prick is pulling me along too fast. With a frustrated growl, the prof stops, turns and bends to scoop me into his arms. I squeal in protest but he ignores me, and as he throws me over his shoulder and my face flies dangerously close to the stairs, I’m not yelling at him to stop or put me down, but grabbing onto him for dear life so that I don’t fall. By any means necessary. Even if that means wrapping my arms around his waist and brushing against his…oh fuck me.
I have to concentrate on too many things at once: not puking, not falling, not saying something ridiculous about my professor’s cock…not rubbing my hands over it again to see if I imagined his hardness.
He carries me through a bedroom which, even upside down, I recognise as Cove’s and suddenly there’s a blast of ice cold air and the world is tipping on its axis again as the professor sets me right.
Everything spins, and if it weren’t for his hands gently holding my hips, I’m sure I’d stumble and fall. His fingers ghost the bruises that Bhodi put there, but he can’t know that…right?
* * *
The night sea air has an immediate cooling effect on me. I take deep breaths until my head feels clearer, but I can tell from the fuzzy feeling in my limbs that I’m still far from sober.
“Why did you bring me out here?”
“Figured you could use the fresh air.”
“Oh.”
I mean, surely he could have just dragged me out the front door? Why the need to bring me upstairs? And he seemed so mad a moment ago, and now he’s being kind and thinking of my health? He’s constantly turning hot and cold around me. I don’t know where I stand.
I shake the confusion out of my head and lose myself for a minute enjoying the breeze on my face and the sound of the sea in the dark. I love the ocean’s orchestra at the best of times, but there’s something magical about being able to hear without seeing.
It’s a bright, clear night but the light from the house prevents me from seeing the stars as clearly as I’d like, but I can tell it would be a spectacular night for stargazing.
