She turned, giving me a small smile, her lipstick slightly smudged at the corner.
“If anything, she’s the unlucky one, losing a man like you.”
“I appreciate that, Carol.”
I smiled, ignoring the way her cheeks tinted pink and how Michael scoffed.
For some reason, the alcohol was dampening my mood, and I felt a deep sense of anger blooming in my chest.
I should go home and sleep this off.
“I've got to go. See you tomorrow morning.”
Michael drunkenly held his beer up to salute me, and Carol gave me a tight smile, leaning back into her chair.
“See you tomorrow, Nathan.”
Michael rambled on about something else, but I was already on my way out the door.
***
As the cold air hit me, the only thing still on my mind was the way Ryan’s eyes had clung to that man, as if he wanted to devour him. But knowing Ryan, it could mean nothing at all.
I made my way toward my car. I didn't live near the city, not a fan of all the lights. Despite how much farther it was from campus, I preferred my house in the hills.
That, among other reasons.
I was frustrated.
This feeling of nerves was gnawing at me from the inside out.
I wasn’t sure why… at least, I wanted to believe I didn’t know why.
A primal instinct stirred within me, something ancient and buried deep beneath layers of professionalism. It was natural psychology, especially among men—watching someone as undeniably attractive as Ryan give another man that pout, those fuck-me eyes. It provoked envy, raw and difficult to suppress.
But I couldn't allow myself to see Ryan that way.
He was a student.Mystudent, for God's sake. Yet, beneath all my rationalizations, I was still just a man.
I started my car and drove thirty minutes to my house. It was dark by the time I got there and opened the door. I made myself another drink, a stronger one, not that watered-down garbage they sold at the college bar.
I drank, took my tie off, and flung it onto the couch.
I started reviewing student assignments. I'd asked them for a simple case study analysis on any person, real-life or media, depicting any type of mental illness.
They were all pretty basic essays, showing little actual awareness or understanding of our topics in class.
Truthfully, I was avoiding my bedroom upstairs; I already knew what awaited me up there, or ratherwho.
Dammit, I couldn’t keep doing this.
I only had so much self-control. So much restraint. Especially around a siren like him.
The more I thought about it, the better the prospect of going up there sounded.
And I hated that.
It felt like all rational thinking was being discarded, traded in for the promise of a soft voice and unforgettable plush lips.
