Are your midterm exams done yet?
The dots bounce right away, telling me her phone is close by.
Gray
I’m hoping to have everything graded and handed back on Friday so I can enjoy the weekend for once.
Perfect. She’ll be done with work, and I’m off on Sunday. We should both be stress-free and ready to let loose Saturday night.
I can’t wait to see what the prim professor is like when she lets herself have some fun.
Chapter 12
Gray
“I’m going home to change,” I text Celena after tugging my dress down for the third time in two minutes as I walk through the casino Saturday night.
The bouncing blue dots appear to indicate she’s typing.
Celena
No, you’re not. You’re going to go in there and rock that dress in front of those professional hockey players like the smoking-hot goddess you are.
I roll my eyes. Celena is good for my self-confidence, even if she’s full of shit.
Gray
What if one of my students sees me?
Celena
And what? Realizes you’re an adult woman with a life beyond school?
I don’t have time to reply before her next message comes through.
Celena
Putting my phone away now. Just go.
I sigh. I really wish Celena could’ve come tonight, but she never would’ve made it past the slot machines.
I pull out my ID and show the bouncer at the entrance to the club. He takes a quick glance at it, then at my outfit before he waves me inside.
I’m wearing a tight-fitting black dress that has half sleeves and dips low across my chest to show some cleavage. It comes down mid-thigh,and although I’ve already seen women wearing shorter skirts, I feel practically naked in it.
I do look good in the dress, but I’m not used to wearing something like this. I only own the thing because Celena made me buy it a year ago, and I’m only wearing it now because she made me promise to. It’s the dress’s inaugural outing.
I head toward the back of the club to where Ash said the VIP areas are, and I see the guys sitting on a set of couches in a far corner. I walk toward them, but another bouncer stops me before I get anywhere close.
“I’m with the Hydra,” I shout to him over the music.
He looks me up and down slowly, his gaze lingering on my breasts. “No bunnies yet,” he says.
My brows shoot up. “I’m a friend of Ash Gunnarsson.”
The bouncer laughs. “So not just with the Hydra. You’re with their star player?” he says. “You should’ve shot lower. I might’ve believed you were with one of the rookies.”
I tamp down the urge to knee the man in the groin, and I pull out my phone instead. I show him Ash’s name in my contacts, but he gives me a dubious look. I consider showing him our text chain, but at least parts of it are protected by the NDA.
