Chapter 112
**Sara**
I held my breath as Sophia's footsteps approached, Tom's following close behind. Jessica shot me a mischievous grin, and I silently prayed she wouldn't say anything too outrageous.
"Ladies, I'd like you to meet someone," Sophia announced as she entered the living room, Tom in tow.
My eyes locked with Tom's, and the world seemed to stand still. He looked unfairly handsome in a dark blue button-down that made his eyes pop. A small smile played on his lips, and I felt a familiar warmth spreading through my body.
"This is my cousin, Tom," Sophia continued, oblivious to our tension. "He's a professor at the university."
Jessica piped up with a smirk. "Oh, we know. He's our professor."
Sophia's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Well, isn't that a delightful coincidence!" She glanced between Tom and me, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Wait a minute... Sara, is this the special friend you were talking about?"
I choked on my water, coughing and spluttering as Jessica patted my back, barely containing her laughter.
Tom cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing. "Sophia, I think I smell something burning in the kitchen."
"Oh, shoot!" Sophia exclaimed. "Not again! You all keep talking. I'll be right back!" She dashed out of the room, leaving us in an awkward silence.
As Sophia's footsteps faded, the room plunged into an uncomfortable silence. I could feel Tom's eyes but couldn't bring myself to look at him. Jessica seemed to be having the time of her life, her eyes darting between us with barely concealed glee.
"Well," Jessica drawled, breaking the silence. "This isn't awkward at all."
I shot her a warning glance, but she ignored me, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"You know," she continued, addressing Tom directly, "there's nothing to feel awkward about. It's perfectly normal for a professor to date a student these days. Progressive, even."
I felt my face burn hotter than Sophia's twice-burned lasagna. "Jess!" I hissed, but she was on a roll.
Tom cleared his throat, his usual composure slightly ruffled. "I'm afraid you're mistaken," he said, his voice strained. "I'm not dating any students."
Jessica's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? Then why did Sara-"
"Jessica, I swear to God, if you don't shut up right now, I will stuff that wine glass down your throat," I growled through gritted teeth.
Tom's eyes widened slightly at my outburst, and I felt a fresh wave of mortification.
Jessica held up her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. My mistake. Clearly, I've had too much of this delicious wine." She took another sip, winking at me over the rim of her glass.
I wanted to crawl under the table and disappear. Jessica's antics were pushing me to the brink of a nervous breakdown, and Tom's presence only amplified my anxiety. Just as I contemplated faking a sudden illness to escape this nightmare, Sophia's voice rang out from the kitchen.
"Dinner's ready, everyone! Come and get it while it's hot... well, mostly hot."
I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the interruption. Tom quickly excused himself to help Sophia, leaving Jessica and me alone.
"I hate you," I whispered fiercely.
Jessica grinned, unrepentant. "You'll thank me later."
We went to the dining room, where Daniel set out plates. The table was beautifully set, with candles flickering in the center and the aroma of Sophia's lasagna filling the air.
"It smells amazing," I said, trying to dispel the awkwardness.
Sophia beamed as she carried in a slightly charred lasagna. "Thanks! I hope it tastes as good as it smells. Though I can't promise it won't be a little... crispy."
We all laughed, the tension easing a bit. As we settled into our seats, I found myself across from Tom. Our eyes met briefly, and I felt a familiar flutter in my stomach.
Daniel raised his glass. "Before we dig in, I'd like to propose a toast. To good food, good company, and new friends."
We clinked glasses, and I took a generous sip of wine, hoping it would calm my nerves.
As we started eating, Tom cleared his throat. "So, Daniel and Sophia, do you have any updates on the wedding plans?"
Leave it to Tom to bring up the most awkward topic possible. I mean, sure, it was a perfectly normal question, but given the circumstances – namely, the fact that I was secretly sleeping with the bride's cousin – it felt like he was poking a hornet's nest with a very short stick.
Sophia and Daniel exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. It was the kind of look that said, "Oh God, not this again."
"Well," Sophia began, twirling her fork in her pasta, "we're planning to have it in a few months, but..."
"But we haven't actually planned anything yet," Daniel finished, looking sheepish.
I nodded sympathetically, grateful for the distraction from my own predicament. "Wedding planning can be overwhelming," I offered, trying to sound wise despite my complete lack of experience.
And then I felt it. A gentle pressure against my calf. At first, I thought it was just Jessica accidentally bumping me under the table. But when I glanced at her, she was busy shoveling lasagna into her mouth like it was her last meal.
No, this touch was deliberate. And it was coming from across the table.
I locked eyes with Tom, who was wearing the most innocent expression I'd ever seen. But a glint in his eye told me he was anything but innocent.
"So, Sara," Sophia said, jolting me back to reality, "how are your classes going? Tom here isn't working you too hard, is he?"
"Oh, no," I said while sipping wine, "Professor Thomas is very... thorough."
To emphasize my point, Tom's foot slid higher up my leg, his toes tracing lazy circles on my skin. I gripped my fork tighter, trying to maintain my composure.
Jessica said, "Oh yes, Sara's always talking about how hard Professor Thomas can be."
I kicked her under the table, but she just grinned wider.
"I mean, his classes," she added innocently. "They're quite... rigorous."
Tom's foot inched higher, and I had to bite my lip to avoid making a very inappropriate noise. How was no one else noticing this?
"That's wonderful to hear," Sophia beamed. "Tom's always been passionate about teaching. Remember when we were kids, and he used to make me and my dolls sit through his lectures?"
Sophia launched into a story about young Tom's educational aspirations.
I tried to focus on Sophia's story, but Tom's foot made it incredibly difficult to concentrate on anything other than the heat spreading through my body.
"...and there was little Tommy, standing on a chair, trying to explain the intricacies of long division to my Barbie dolls," Sophia giggled, gesturing with her fork.
I nodded and smiled, hoping my face wasn't as flushed as it felt. Tom's toes were now tracing delicate patterns on my inner thigh, and I was sure I would spontaneously combust at any moment.
"Did the dolls pass the class?" Jessica asked, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
Sophia laughed. "Oh, they were star pupils. Unlike me. I think I threw an eraser at him."
As everyone chuckled, I felt Tom's foot slowly withdraw. The loss of contact was both a relief and a disappointment. I glanced at him, only to find him looking completely unruffled, sipping his wine as if he hadn't just been playing footsie under the table.
The smug bastard.
"Well," Daniel said, pushing back from the table, "that was delicious, Sophia. Even if it was a little... crispy around the edges."
Sophia swatted at him playfully. "Oh, hush. You love my cooking."
"Every charred bit of it," he agreed, kissing her cheek.
As we finished up dinner, the conversation flowed more easily. Maybe it was the wine or the absence of Tom's distracting foot, but I found myself relaxing a bit. Jessica, true to form, regaled everyone with outrageous stories from our college days, carefully edited to exclude anything too scandalous.
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