“Speak for yourself,” she mutters.
“It’s kind of flattering.” I shrug.
She narrows her eyes at me before pushing my chest so that I take a step back from her. “When I make you come in your pants, we’ll talk about how that makes you feel.”
“I’d rather come inside you,” I admit. “But I’ll take what I can get.”
Her cheeks redden at my comment, and she quickly ducks her head. I swipe my dress shirt and jacket up off the floorand start buttoning them, wincing at the sting of faint scratches Summer left across my chest.
She looks up and catches sight of herself in the mirror behind me, and she curses. Her lipstick and drawn-on stitches are smeared all over her face. I check my own face and notice faint black marks near my lips, some of which have stuck to my white collar. I rub at the makeup, but it doesn’t come off the fabric.
Summer wets a paper towel and scrubs the makeup from her face when I finally speak up. “Won’t that make all of this a little obvious?” I ask.
She glares at me. “Not any more obvious than me walking out of the bathroom with my makeup smudged all over my face.”
There’s a small, toxic part of me that wishes she would go out there with her makeup ruined so that everyone would know what we had been up to in here.
I know it’s wrong. It would hurt Nikki’s feelings, could get both of us into serious trouble, and, despite my extreme dislike for him, would also upset Matt. I don’t want to hurt anyone, I don’t want Summer to lose her spot in the program, nor do I want to lose my job. But for just a second, I wish that I could claim her in front of the world.
Her words from earlier echo in my head, and a small sense of dread washes over me. “Don’t fuck him,” I hear myself begging. I don’t know if it’s still a possibility, but the idea of another man touching her makes me want to put my fist through a wall.
“I can fuck whoever I want,” she says defiantly, though I can see her heart is no longer in it. Maybe she never meant it, and it had just been an empty threat. Or the realization that her Counseling Theories professor had just made her climax in a bar’s restroom is slowly hitting her. Even though I can tell she doesn’t mean it and is just arguing for the sake of arguing, I can’t help but respond in kind.
“You wantme,” I growl back.
She scoffs. “And you want me, yet you’re here with another woman.”
I hate myself for the small smug feeling warming my chest at her jealousy. “I brought her because she’s someone my age and more appropriate for me to be spending time with.”
Her jaw tightens in response before she lets out a frustrated sigh. I can tell as soon as she processes my words that—though I’m right—it was the wrong thing to say. “Oh my god,” she groans, leaning against the counter. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
The high and the excitement and the lust start to dissipate, replaced by guilt and fear. We could get in huge trouble if anyone sees us leaving this bathroom. I could lose my job. She could get kicked out of the program.
Shame immediately washes over me. I didn’t intentionally set out tonight, hoping to corner Summer in a public bathroom and have my way with her. I had actually hoped she would go somewhere else tonight, like a club, even though the idea of her dancing with some other fucker makes me grit my teeth. “Look… Summer?—”
She holds up her hand, stopping me. “Is this where you ignore me for another few weeks?”
“What?” I ask, startled.
“After the elevator incident, you ignored me until tonight.”
Embarrassment heats my cheeks. “I shouldn’t have kissed you in the elevator, and I definitely should not have followed you in here and done… all of that.” I gesture toward the door we had been pressed against. The words taste like ash on my tongue. Though I know they’re the right thing to say, I wouldn’t take back my actions and am immediately disgusted with myself.
I have zero self-control.
“And yet, you did,” she points out.
“Both of us should be pursuing more appropriate people, not… doing whatever this is,” I say it because it’s the responsible thing to say, not because I mean it. I want to mean it. I want to be a good man, a man who in any other circumstance would deserve someone like Summer, but clearly, that’s not who I am.
I can tell as soon as the words leave my lips that I’ve hurt her. She tries to school her face into an expression of indifference before stating, “Well, just a friendly reminder,Professor,” she spits the word at me. “You’re the only one who keeps starting up whatever this is.”
She breezes past me and out the door, leaving me standing there, alone, and feeling guilty as hell.
She’s right. I have been the one to initiate both of these completely unethical encounters. Does she even want to partake in them? Based on her reactions, I’d say she does, but given the unfair power dynamic, I can’t be sure.
The high of being with Summer has completely worn off, and now I just feel like garbage.
The idea of Summer going back to the table where Matt is waiting for her makes me livid. I have no claim to her, but I wish I did.
