Of course not. And again, he’s teaching my class. I need to get ahold of myself before I embarrass both of us. Ian grabs his coat and I follow him out to the parking lot. I turn to look back at the flashing neon sign in the window. I’m being silly. It’s just a pizza joint in a strip mall. But I wish I could go back inside. Tonight, with Ian, I felt like myself. I didn’t have to pretend, not really. I want this kind of freedom every day, but I’m not sure I’m willing to pay the price to get it.
Chapter 9
Ian
Hannah'sback for three days straight and I'm thanking the gods that be. In the next few days, I plan to catch up on sleep, work a double, and record two reading guides.
But tonight, I’m treating myself.
And ok, last night was a treat, but that doesn’t count because it was unplanned and all in the name of friendship, and I’ve forbidden myself from thinking about Booker Zabek. It would be way too easy to crush on him.
And way too inappropriate.
Tonight, I’m taking my TT followers up on one of their many suggestions. (And not the one that would have me jumping out of a plane. That’s just nonsense.)
Mel and I are going dancing. There’s an LGBTQIA+ bar called Blue Moon a couple blocks off campus. Mel’s wearing a low cut dress and thigh high boots. Her long hair is done in some fancy updo, and her earrings look like they weigh five pounds each. She looks hot. And I don’t look too bad, either, in dark jeans and a fitted shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
“If you stare in that mirror much longer, it will suck you into another dimension and I’ll have to sell my soul to the devil just to break you free,” Mel tells me as she scrolls through her phone.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“That I’ve been sitting here so long waiting for your ass to get ready that I can feel myself aging.”
I roll my eyes. “So dramatic. Come on then.” I check my pocket for my key, my ID, and my wallet, then grab a jacket. “Wait, you’re not wearing a coat?” I ask. “It’s freezing out there.”
“Nah,” she brushes off my concern. “I’m from upstate New York. Anything above zero is balmy. Besides, it’s bad enough that I’ll smell like a weird mix of cologne, weed, and Fruity Pebbles by the time the night’s over. But at least I can take a shower. I don’t want to have to dry clean my coat, you know?”
She’s got a point. We head down the steps and decide to walk to the club. It’s not far and the parking situation downtown pretty much sucks, so we’ll likely end up walking either way. True to her word, Mel doesn’t even shiver as we make our way into town.
We flash our IDs to get into the club and I steer us toward the bar. “First round is mine,” I tell her.
“I won’t pass that up.”
Soon, I have my IPA and Mel has her gin and tonic. We’re standing at the bar, surveying the crowd.
“I wish I were a lesbian,” Mel whines. “I gave it a valiant effort freshman year.”
“I know, sweetie,” I soothe.
“But I like dick too much. Ugh. It’s a fucking curse because men are pretty much assholes.”
I look at her and cheers our cups. “I feel this on every level, Mel.”
“I know you do. And you know that when I say all men are assholes, I don’t mean you.”
“I know, love. But even I have my moments.”
“Doubtful. Hey, is that Jer and Rylann?” she asks, pointing to a couple by the door. “Ooh, that corset is fierce. Dammit. I should have worn a corset.”
“Do you own a corset?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’ll put that on my birthday list.”
“Your birthday was last month.”
“Fine, what’s the next big holiday?”
“Let’s not bring leprechauns in to this. So, Easter.”
