She was the reason I got up in the morning.
Not anymore. Not ever again.
Now, she's a bitter memory I chase with a glass of whiskey almost every night. I've become a brooding cliche. My brother leans in with a beer in hand and gives me a giant, irritating hug. I stiffen at the unfamiliar touch of another human being. It's strange to think that it's been a long time since anyone has shown me any real affection. It's even stranger to admit that it bothers me.
"So how does it feel to be single again? You know, it only took three years for it to happen."
I grimace at the wide smile on Derrick's face. I've never understood why people celebrate divorces. I guess no one really takes the "Till' Death Do You Part" seriously anymore. It took one moment to destroy our marriage. One moment to destroy my world. I've been picking up the pieces ever since.
Sensing my discomfort, my brother returns to the bar and orders a whiskey on the rocks. This time instead of a pink umbrella, my glass is filled with pink ice cubes.
"She really doesn't like you," Derrick laughs. "C'mon Parker, drink up. You're finally free…you should live a little."
I begrudgingly take the glass from him and muffle my snort.
"Free? You think I'm free from Scarlett simply because the divorce went through. Sure, she didn't take me for every penny that I'm worth in comparison, not that I'm worth much anyway, but we have a daughter together. I'll never be free of her."
A defeated sigh escapes Derrick as he hangs his head. "I'm just surprised you left New York to move out here. I didn't think you'd ever leave that dismal place."
New York was home. I miss the familiarity of knowing where to go and what to see. California is still growing on me.
"I didn't have much of a choice. My daughter is out here. You think I'd willing live across the country from her?"
"Never. I'm sure she's going to be ecstatic to see you."
My chest aches slightly at the realization that it's been two weeks since I've seen Olivia. The divorce hasn't been the easiest on her. She doesn't seem to understand why I moved out on my own or why her mother is spending so much time with another man. And God only knows what Scarlett's telling her.
"It's an adjustment."
My eyes fall to the crowd of people gathered around the bar chatting and clinging to one another. My subconscious tells me to go home, but I can't bring myself to actually walk away. I need one night of no inhibitions. Hell I need several. There's a reason why my brother constantly teases me about being so uptight.
"Just forget about her. For one night," Derrick says, as if reading my mind.
I sigh in defeat as my brother surveys the club for girls. It's only nine o'clock and the establishment is brimming with people. In the city, people don't arrive to a bar let alone a club until midnight. It's common to go bar hoping. In this picturesque seaside town, this seems to be the only watering hole.
"What about her, professor?"
His tone is all amusement as he points at a woman wearing thick, hot pink high heels, a black mini skirt and a top that dips to the middle of her breastbone. Derrick has a thing for spotting a callgirl from a mile away.
"I can practically feel my balls itching from here. Besides I don't pay for sex."
"You may have to if you keep up with this celibacy business. No one wants to have sex with a minute-man."
I scoff at Derrick's insult. None of them women I've been with have ever complained about my skills in the bedroom. I tip back my glass of Whiskey and stop mid-drink at the sight of a pretty and familiar strawberry blonde walking into the bar. Her hair falls into silky waves down her back just below her shoulder blades. She looks like sex and candy wrapped in her soft blush dress that perfectly matches the flush on her cheeks. Mesmerized, I watch as she floats across the room with another woman at her side. A strange sensation hits me as I feel a familiar tug in my chest.
It's her. Ms. Wilde. The snarky student from my office hours.
The sudden urge to follow her hits me like a speeding train, but I stop myself somehow. Despite the freckles that kiss her skin and the smile lighting her face, I know she isn't as innocent as she looks. I've made this mistake before. She's just another hellion in disguise of that I'm sure.
It's been three years since you've even touched a woman but it feels like twenty. I stare at my young student, watching as she laughs and then turns her head to survey the club. She's so beautiful she practically sparkles. No one's stolen her light - yet.
I won't be the fucker who does.
2
Josie
"I can't believe you convinced me to go out tonight."
I collapse on top of the barstool next to my roommate and wave down the bartender from the other end. It was my idea to take Vicky out tonight for some girl time. After spending the past three weeks listening to her cry over her loser ex-boyfriend, there's no way I'm wasting another night on chick flicks and ice cream. My waistline will thank me later.
"We both needed a break," I say, somehow managing to muster a smile. "And lots of drinks."
The bartender makes a beeline toward us as I flash him my black Amex card - or rather my parents black Amex card. They didn't specifically say I couldn't use for alcohol. Only that I should use it for "emergencies." Tonight is definitely an emergency. Being single on Valentine's Day is like wearing a scarlet letter on your forehead. It's the only day in the year that I actually feel bad being single.
"We'll take two screwdrivers to start. Keep my tab open." I hand the bartender my card and she smiles as she briefly glances down at it with an unusual amount of interest. I've always found it fascinating how quickly things get done when I flash my father's card at someone. In a matter of seconds, the bartender returns with our drinks. "You're Josie Wilde, right?" she asks.
"Yes." I smile in embarrassment.
"Oh my gosh, I'm a HUGE fan of your father's work."
"Thank you."
Most people look at me like another spoiled Hollywood brat, but my parents have spent the past twenty two years trying to make me fit in with the general public. Although there have been some obvious differences in my childhood compared to others, like having a boy band show up to my 8th grade birthday party. Aside from the occasional amount of spoiling, they've done everything in their power so that I don't end up like other child stars - strung out on drugs or making sex tapes. They may be rich but they have hearts of gold. At least that's what I keep telling myself every time I bring up my inheritance. It's an argument I never win. The only way I'm getting it is if I finish college with a degree in hand.
"Thanks for the drinks," I say, holding up my glass. "We'll be back for more."
The bartender smiles and then moves on to the next group of people ordering. I dance my way back to Vicky who stands silent in a corner of the bar. Her eyes are slightly watery and I cringe at the idea that she's been crying.
"I can't stop thinking about him, Josie. It's Valentine's Day and we should be together." Vicky says, as I hand her a drink.
To my dismay, the bar around us is a constant reminder of our singledom. Couples sit mingling beside one another as they kiss and laugh. Everywhere I look there's decorations and conversations of love. Maybe bringing Vicky out tonight wasn't such a great idea. This sure as hell wasn't what I had in mind when I asked her to go out with me. Oceanside's only bar is brimming with reminders of just how single we are.
"Drink," I say, gently pushing her drink to her mouth. "Then we'll talk."
We both chug our screwdrivers. The vodka is smooth and it leaves a warm sensation in my stomach. I nudge Vicky as she silently stands next to me, practically humming with nerves.
"Would you rather be at home watching one of those terrible chick flicks?" I ask.
She shakes her head at me pretending to be insulted. She loves romantic comedies and I can't blame her. Who doesn't want to fall for a hot guy who's perfect in every way. Unfortunately, that isn't reality. Love is messy.
"So who should we
ask to dance with first?" I ask, surveying the club around us. A change of subject might help this night.
"Most of the people here are couples, Josie. I told you it was a terrible idea to come here on Valentine's Day. We might as well write single all over our foreheads."
"Giving up already?" I ask, challenging her. I refuse to let Vicky become a Negative Nelly because of some guy. "We just need to find someone to dance with."
I scan the room, surveying the crowd.
"How do you suppose we tell who's single and who's taken?" Vicky asks.
I grin. "Everyone's single unless they're married."
"You're an incorrigible flirt."
"One has to be when on the hunt," I say in my best English accent. "Let's order some more drinks."
"Not tequila."
"Yes. I know you're swearing off tequila because of your ex but I'm not letting him ruin that too."
I drag Vicky back to the bar and order two shots. Without hesitation I toss back the first and then hand her the second. She crinkles her nose looking at the glass with a good measure of distain.
"It's the good stuff," I lie. There's no way I'm giving her the good stuff. She's getting drunk on the cheap stuff tonight. I grin as Vicky tosses it back and immediately begins coughing. She glares at me through watery eyes.
"What did I just drink?"
"It wasn't top shelf," I laugh. "C'mon, let's dance."
"I'm so glad this week is over. This semester is going to be hell." My words slur slightly as the alcohol starts behind to kick in. Vicky wraps an arm around me trying to keep her balance.
"Are you still upset about the grade he gave you?" Vicky says with devilish grin.
The memory of Professor Grant calling me a "petulant child" is still fresh in my mind. No one has ever said anything so rude to me. The wheels churn in my mind as I contemplate how I could've handled the situation better. Perhaps bending over his desk would've gotten a better response from him. At least that's how my fantasy would've played out.
"He didn't have to be an asshole about it. That paper wasn't easy."
My best friend shakes her head at me in disbelief. "Josie, you spent the last three years taking the easiest classes you could find. I'm not even sure how you got this far in English Lit without having to write a paper longer than 3 pages."
I laugh and it feels good to release the tension still knotted into my shoulders.
"Skills, my dear. All skills."
Vicky rolls her eyes at me. "That's not something you should be touting." My father was always one to remind me to work smart not hard. I've taken that to heart and maybe gone a little overboard. It's not my fault the university hasn't caught on.
I know all too well that my best friend is not one to break the rules. Where as I like to find a way to bend them. As a Criminal Justice major, Vicky is passionate about law and order. The only Law and Order I'm passionate about is the one that features Benson and Stabler. My two favorite detectives from SVU.
"So what do you plan on doing with Professor Grant? Vicky asks with a sly smile. I ignore the innuendo in her question. What I plan on doing to Professor Grant is entirely different from what I want to do. Thoughts of him spreading open my legs and sliding his hand across my pussy leaves me dizzy. The memory of my temper from earlier still brings a blush to my cheeks. No one's ever set me off the way he did. It's hard to imagine how someone in his position can get away with being such a smug and arrogant asshole.
"I'm just figuring out ways to make his life hell. There's no way I'm getting stuck in college for another year because of one lousy professor."
Vicky laughs as she signals to the bartender for another drink.
"Look at it this way, you've gotten through most of your undergrad without even sweating over a class," she says. "I'm sure he'll change his mind about letting you redo the assignment."
I snort. "Not likely. He's wound up tighter than than the girdle of a Baptist minister's wife at an all you can eat pancake breakfast."
"Did you just quote Golden Girls to me?" Vicky laughs. "Maybe he just needs to get laid."
"Who the hell would want to fuck him? He's probably the type of man who has the audacity to criticize a naked woman in front of him." The thought of being naked in front of Professor Grant is ten times more nerve wrecking than any mid-term or final I've taken.
"Perhaps if you spent more time on your papers instead of analyzing my sex life, you might actually pass my class."
A cold electric voice shoots of the darkness. The sound of it sends me off kilter and I nearly bump into a passing waitress. His hands catch me before disaster strikes. The warmth of them sends blood rushing to my cheeks as I realize who the familiar voice belongs to.
"Oh shit," Vicky squeaks.
I grimace as I force myself to meet his gaze.
FML. It's just my luck that I would run into him here.
My heart squeezes in an unfamiliar way at the sight of Professor Grant standing in the crowded bar filled with Valentine's Day streamers and balloons. Somehow, even he looks out of place here. The sight of him standing here is surreal. Maybe I'm still drunk? Maybe he didn't just hear me asking who would want to fuck him? That's what I get for blabbing on and on with Vicky about him.
"Uh, hi."
I brush back a lock from my face suddenly feeling like all of my thoughts are on full display. There's a tremor in my voice and silently chide myself for it. Despite how much I just want to grab Vicky, turn and walk away, I stand my ground. My eyes flicker up to his lips which sit firmly placed in a thin line. They always seem to be in never-ending scowl.
"Hello, Ms. Wilde."
3
Josie
His words roll over me sending a thrill straight through me. I hate the way his voice affects me. It doesn't matter how much I tell myself not to let it, it does. My neck heats at the biting sound of his words.
"Shouldn't you be working on your paper?" he asks with a smirk.
"You mean the paper you said I couldn't rewrite?"
The words fall from my mouth in a heated flurry. Am I really standing here drunk, arguing with my professor? This is all very real and he's definitely standing there looking handsome as hell. He isn't wearing a dress shirt and sweater vest like the other day. Tonight he's coated in dark wash jeans, a tight black shirt and a leather jacket. My gaze wanders from his toned chest muscles to his wave of brown locks brushed back. Unlike most of the guys I've met on campus, Professor Grant is classically handsome. And I'm not talking about some hipster with an ironic beard who buys vintage clothes handsome. No, somehow, my irritatingly good-looking professor pulls off a leather jacket and a sweater vest like he's mother-fucking James Dean, instead of Mr. Roger's.
The really irritating bit is that if he decided to add some loafers, it would still do it for me. I'm halfway to responding with my half-ass attempt at something witty but Vicky's voice cuts through the air with a tone that would make most guys run for the hills.
"She's taking a much needed break since her asshole professor has been riding her ass."
I elbow Vicky, cutting her sentence short. Irritation flares across her face as she silently scolds me with her gaze. My roomie, the shy silent type, is now a lot less willing to take bullshit from anyone.
Professor Grant studies me with disinterest. I'm sure he's just expecting me to cower in fear in front of him like other students must do, but instead I straighten my shoulders and point my chin up. I'm not going to let him make me feel inferior. I may only be a student to him but I help pay his salary. Or rather my parents do.
"Hey Parker, who are your friends?"
Parker? His name is Parker?
A tall, blonde hunk with an easy smile approaches Vicky and me as we stand inches from the dance floor. His smooth voice calls to us over Professor Grant's shoulder. The handsome stranger flashes us a bright smile that reaches to his eyes. His gorgeous green eyes. There's a strange similarity between the stranger and Professor Grant.
"Derrick, this is my student Ms. Wilde and…"
His eyes glance toward Vicky with disdain.
"I'm Vicky, Ms. Wilde's bestie," she says, reaching out to shake Derrick's hand. I suppress a grin watching my bestie's eyes light up like she was just served a delicious brownie a la mode. Derrick's smile widens as he and Vicky shamelessly eye-fuck each other.
"Lovely to meet you. I hope you're not one of my brother's students."
Vicky laughs, pushing back a lock of hair behind her ear. Watching the two is like watching the beginning of a RomCom. I'm almost sickened at how adorable they are looking at each other. I guess I'm the Carrie Fisher in this scenario.
"No, thankfully not, but Josie is."
Derrick's gaze flashes to me with a sympathetic smile. If he's related to Professor Grant I'm sure he already knows how much of a dick he can be. I almost feel sorry for him because at least I don't I'm not related to the dude. Which is probably a good thing because the way Professor Grant is looking at me is anything but familial.
"You do know I'm standing right here," he says with irritation.
I bite back a laugh at the thought of someone actually being able to this ego-centric man feel inferior. I'm surprise the earth hasn't been thrown off its axis because of the size of his ego.
"So, what are you ladies up to tonight? Making trouble?" Derrick says, slapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. A grimace spreads across Professor Grant's face. Despite how much I would love to continue watching my professor squirm, I'm not interested in getting to know him outside the classroom.
"Always."
If Vicky's smile could get any wider, the rest of her face would disappear.
"We're actually here to dance. Would you guys like to join us?" she adds.
Professor Grant begins to say,"we should be going-"
"We would love to," Derrick interrupts. The tension between the two brothers goes right over Vicky's head but it doesn't get by me.
Grade A Ahole (ABCs of Love Book 1) Page 2