It felt so good.
For so long I’d forgotten what it felt like to feel something good, something other than pain and sadness. In those short moments in his arms, I didn’t feel so alone. I felt safe, I felt like I was flying. Totally weightless, I felt like I could do anything.
And then he pulled back, and the spell was broken.
He told me it was a mistake, but how could a kiss like that ever be a mistake?
In one minute I was the happiest I’ve been in over a year, and in the next, I was right back where I started.
Hurt.
Broken.
Alone.
I understand why he pulled away, after all he is my professor, what could he want from some broken, pathetic nineteen year-old girl?
The point is, I need a distraction, and what better place than a bar where I can get drunk and forget about all of my problem? Thankfully, tonight is my night off at both the club and the restaurant, a rare but welcome occurrence. I can’t stomach having to face customers tonight, or worse yet, strip for a room full of men, the thought already has bile rising in my throat.
I down the rest of my drink and order another.
“Not gonna happen, sweetheart. You’ve had enough,” the cute bartender says.
“Really? I’m not even drunk yet.”
“And you’re well on your way to getting there, I’m doing you a favour.”
I glare at him and rest my head on my hand, my arm propped up on the bar and fiddle with the strap on my bag.
“Here,” a guy next to me says, nudging me in the side. He slides a drink in front of me and look up at him questioningly. “For you.”
My eyes flick back to the bartender who’s watching us with a disapproving look on his face.
I turn my body to face the man, he’s older, maybe mid-to-late thirties, for an older guy he’s handsome, but he’s not Dwight.
Jesus, am I actually comparing other men to Dwight now?
I take the drink from him. “Thank you. I’m Quinn.”
“Justin.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meetyou.”
Chapter 17
Dwight
I’m woken up with the sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand next to my bed and I roll over, Quinn’s name flashing up on my screen.
It’s almost one in the morning, something must be wrong for her to be calling at this time of night.
I sit bolt upright and answer the call. “Quinn? Are you alright?”
“Hello?” a man says. The sound of his voice has my fists clenching and my blood pumping faster. Why does a guy have Quinn’s phone? On the other end I can hear loud music, like a club or a bar.
“Who is this?”
