Chapter 140
**Sara**
I slid into Tom's car, my mind whirling with questions. Who the hell was this woman? The way she sauntered up to Tom, all confidence and curves, made my stomach churn. I couldn't help but notice her killer legs and how her dress hugged her in all the right places. Damn, she was hot. And Tom... well, he looked like he'd seen a ghost.
I watched them through the windshield, trying to read their lips. Fat chance of that. I considered cracking the window just a smidge. You know, to let some air in. Totally not to eavesdrop or anything. My hand hovered over the button, but I hesitated. Nah, that'd be creepy, right? Plus, what if they caught me? Talk about awkwardness.
So, instead, I sat there like a lump, my imagination running wild. Was she an ex? A fling? Maybe she was his long-lost sister. Ha! Yeah, right. How she was eyeing him up was definitely not sisterly affection.
I drummed my fingers on my thigh, trying to look casual and failing miserably. What were they talking about? Tom's body language was all over the place. One second, he looked ready to bolt; the next, he leaned in, hanging on her every word. And her? She was working on it, that's for sure. All hair flips, and coy smiles.
A pang of jealousy hit me out of nowhere. Which was ridiculous, right? I mean, Tom and I weren't even a thing. We were just... what? Friends with benefits? Professor and student with a side of mind-blowing sex? Whatever we were didn't give me the right to feel possessive.
But damn it, I did. I wanted to march out there and stake my claim. Give her a little hip check, and accidentally spill my non-existent coffee on her perfect dress. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Clumsy me. By the way, I'm Sara. Tom's... friend." Yeah, that'd go over well.
Instead, I sat there like a good little girl, my mind conjuring up increasingly ridiculous scenarios. Maybe she was a spy, trying to recruit Tom for some top-secret mission. Or an alien in disguise, here to study human mating rituals. Hey, it could happen.
I snuck another glance at them. He was running his hand through his hair, a sign of flustering. And Ms. Perfect was practically purring, her hand on his arm. Oh, hell no.
I briefly considered honking the horn. To remind them I was still here. But that would be childish, right? Plus, what if Tom got mad? He'd probably think I was some clingy psycho.
So I sat there, stewing in my own juices, trying to look anywhere but at the little tête-à-tête happening right in front of me. I fiddled with the radio, flipping through stations without really listening. I checked my phone, scrolled through social media, and even considered starting a game of Candy Crush. Anything to distract me from Tom being out there, chatting up some gorgeous woman while I sat here like a forgotten puppy.
God, this was torture. How long had they been talking? Five minutes? An hour? Time seemed to stretch into infinity. I was starting to feel weird purgatory, doomed to sit in this car forever while he flirted with mystery women.
When I thought I couldn't take it anymore, he finally turned back towards the car when I seriously considered just getting out and walking home. Thank fuck. Mystery Woman gave a little wave and sauntered off, her hips swaying like she was on a catwalk.
Tom slid into the driver's seat. He smelled faintly of perfume, and I felt that jealous pang again. My stomach churned as he settled in, his cologne now mixed with a floral scent that wasn't there before. I tried to keep my face neutral but could feel my eyebrows creeping towards my hairline.
He reached for the ignition, but I couldn't hold it in. "So, who was that?" I asked, aiming for casual but landing somewhere between 'nosy' and 'accusatory.'
His hand froze mid-air. "Oh, her? That's Isabella. Just a friend."
I snorted. Real ladylike, I know. "A friend? Really? Because from where I was sitting, she looked about ready to climb you like a tree."
He laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. "Come on, Sara. It's not like that."
"Oh no?" I raised an eyebrow. "So friends usually stand that close? And touch each other's arms? And laugh at everything the other person says like it's the funniest thing they've ever heard?"
"You could see all that?"
"I was ten feet away, not on Mars. I'm pretty sure the barista inside could see it."
He sighed, turning to face me fully. "Look, Sara, there's really nothing between Isabella and me. We're just friends."
"Uh-huh," I said, unconvinced.
"What, are you jealous or something?" He asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Jealous? Me? Pfft," I scoffed. "Why would I be jealous? It's not like we're... you know... a thing or whatever."
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