Page 49 of The Biker and the Professor
She shrugs, blasé. “So I’ve been told.”
Yet, on the tail end of that, I hurry over to her with urgency under my skin. “I need to see him. I need to talk to him.” Apparently, I’m screwed in the head, too.
“That's all you had to say.” She blows smoke in my face. “I'll make it happen. But first,”—She gestures to the splinter all around us from the shattered shot glass I’d thrown—“clean up your damn mess.”
Chapter 18
Toni
I pace backand forth in the small room. Or the “private lap dance room” as Cookie calls it.
Everything is red in here. The walls, the long, leather sofa that stretches across the length of the wall, the three tufted, leather ottomans around a glass table, the fluffy carpet, and the lighting.
At Cookie’s behest, I’d been escorted here by one of her hostesses and told to “Hang on.”
I'm nervous.
Nervous because I have no idea what I even want to say to him when I see him. I know only that I want to be close to him again, touch him, smell him. Feelings, emotions? I have plenty. Words? I’ve got none. At least, nothing that makes sense and makes me less selfish.
It feels as if I've been pacing forever. What if he doesn't come? What if he doesn't want to see me? What if he doesn't want to talk to—”
The door opens, revealing the same hostess who brought me here. She moves aside, and my heart hiccups when he comes into view, brushing past her and into the room.
Pointing to a small remote on the table, the hostess instructs, “Just press the green button if you guys need anything.” Then she’s gone.
Nero leans back against the wall next to the door and crosses his arms over his chest. His easy comfort tells me he's more than familiar with these rooms. “Was told you wanted to talk to me?”
I curl my fingers around my thumbs. “I don't like your new girlfriend.”
“You don't need to, you're not the one screwing her.” He studies me for a beat. “What the hell are you even doing here, Toni?”
“It’s Cookie’s birthday party.”
“Right,” he draws out, as if unconvinced that’s the only reason I’m here.
He pats his jacket then takes out a pack of cigarettes. After tapping one out, he returns the pack to his pocket, before getting out a lighter to light it up. Once he’s inhaled a lungful of smoke, he asks, “So, what do you want?”
I hate that he smokes. I’ve told him as much. But he told me to “deal with it” because it’s the only thing that helps him keep a level head.
“I just told you. I don't like your new girlfriend.”
He snorts. “And what do you want me to do about that?”
“Break up with her.”
He coughs around a mouthful of smoke. “You’ve got jokes, Prof.”
I lean back against the single pole in the room. What is my goal here? What do I want from him? Do I want him back? Or am I just jealous that he's with someone else?
It is too impractical for us to be together. We’re from two different worlds, on two different wavelengths, and not to mention the age gap.
He watches me from behind a cloud of smoke. He's not telling me to piss off or go to hell. He actually came to see me. That’s a good sign, right? He doesn't completely hate me yet.
“Cookie thinks she's a virgin,” I say.
He scoffs. “Cookiethinksshe knows everything.”
“Onyx thinks you’re claiming her as your Steady to keep the Club Cats at bay.”
