Chapter 352 A Brief Farewell
My ears were getting bombarded with everyone griping about the organizer's messed-up planning, all while they were stuffing their faces. The vibe got way more lit as the wine kept flowing.
Professor Evans, claiming he was beat, bailed early and told me to keep an eye on the students.
Watching them crack up and have a blast, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was turning into an old fart. Their youthful energy just made me feel out of place.
I'm not big on eating a ton of meat at night; it messes with my sleep. So, I just grilled up a small plate of veggies, dipped them in some homemade sauce, and munched on them out of sheer boredom.
I followed Brad's recipe for the sauce to a T, but it still didn't hit the same. Without Brad around, even the grilled meat tasted off.
I thought, 'When can I come back? It's only been a few days, but I really miss Brad.'
Right then, Brad's video call popped up.
The place was too noisy, and I couldn't hear squat. Without my headphones, I had to put the call on speaker and lean in close to catch anything.
I was praying Brad wouldn't say anything too wild, giving his students something to laugh about.
But, of course, the more you dread something, the more likely it is to happen.
All I wanted was for Brad to say some normal stuff, show a bit of concern and longing. I'd be back tomorrow, and we could chat at home. But nope, Brad had to go and crank the party up a notch.
I called, "Brad."
Brad said, "Baby, when are you coming back? I miss you so much."
I silently gritted my teeth. He was trying to tease me, but his students found it hilarious.
I thought, 'Brad, cut it out. Your students are here. Save the sweet talk for later. This isn't the time or place.'
"I'm coming back tomorrow," I replied awkwardly, pretending not to hear his endearment.
Brad said, "Baby, what did you eat? Your lips are so red, like cherries. I want to take a bite. Sweetie, I want to be that piece of vegetable on your plate. The color is so beautiful."
I thought, 'Be the vegetable on my plate? What the heck does that mean?'
I was puzzled by his weird comment when Brad continued, "I really want to be eaten by you."
Oh, crap! I was mortified.
All seven people who heard this stopped what they were doing and burst into laughter like it was a comedy show. They loudly praised Brad's boldness, saying they should take notes from him.
"Have you been drinking?" I asked Brad.
Brad had this thing; whenever he drank even a little, that mole on his face would stand out.
"Yeah, just a little bit." Brad held up his right thumb and index finger, showing a tiny gap.
I thought, 'Brad, if you've been drinking, just go to bed. Stop talking nonsense and making a fool of yourself.'
I said, "Brad, just go to sleep."
Brad replied, "I can't sleep."
The moment he said that, I knew we were heading into dangerous territory.
I wanted to shut it down, but it was too late.
Brad added, "It's hard to sleep alone."
I was dying of embarrassment.
I thought, 'Brad, do you even care about your reputation?'
I said, "Hurry back. I'm hanging up."
Brad said, "I want to hold you while I sleep. Baby, come back soon. I have a headache and can't sleep. I need you to help me rub it."
Brad pouted, looking all pitiful through the screen.
A drunk Brad was like a mix of a wolf and a lamb. If he wanted me to rub it, what's next? A kiss? This was already way too embarrassing.
"Brad, go to sleep right now. If you really can't sleep, call the cops."
I was startled by the sudden voice and had no clue where it came from. What did calling the cops have to do with sleeping? And who had the guts to scold Brad like that? Oh, it was Professor Evans.
"Professor Evans, do the police handle putting people to sleep now?" I asked, trying to be brave under Professor Evans' disapproving glare.
Professor Evans shook his head seriously. "Getting thrown in the drunk tank can sober someone up real quick."
So that's what he meant. Professor Evans was totally roasting Brad.
Over the past few days, Brad had made countless video calls, pissing off Professor Evans to the point of calling him useless.
Brad didn't back down, saying if Professor Evans didn't keep dragging me into everything, he wouldn't need to check on me every day.
Professor Evans, fuming, chewed Brad out for his lack of respect, saying how maddening it was. If he'd known it would be like this, he'd never have taken Brad on as a student.
My chat with Brad turned into a full-blown shouting match between teacher and student. I don't even remember when I hung up the call.
The week-long competition trip wrapped up, and the results would be evaluated and scored by a professional committee. It'd take two to three months.
Everyone was in high spirits; they were all stoked about their performance. The ride back was naturally filled with joy.
At 8 PM, the bus pulled up to the gate of National Capital University.
As the bus door opened, I immediately spotted Brad's gentle yet intense gaze locked on me.
The joy of reuniting after a short separation was so sweet that I ignored Professor Evans' death glare, bent my knees on the bus steps, and got ready to jump off.
Brad, knowing my antics all too well, saw through my intentions, took two steps forward, found a safe spot, and spread his arms, nodding slightly. "Come on."
I bent my legs and leaped, throwing myself towards Brad. He caught me with his long arms; I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. Brad lifted me and spun around, and I threw my head back, laughing like a kid.
Professor Evans covered his face and quickly walked away.
The classmates started chanting, "Brad, you're the man! Awesome!"
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