Chapter 153
**Sara**
My phone buzzed almost immediately. Damn, Tom was quick on the draw.
Tom: Wow. That's... something. Your ex has interesting taste in apology gifts.
Me: Right? I mean, who does he think I am? Some lovesick teenager who swoons over cheesy mugs?
Tom: Clearly, he doesn't know you very well. Though I have to admit, it takes balls to send that after cheating.
Tom had a point there. Matt's audacity was almost impressive. Almost.
Me: Yeah, well, balls or not, I'm not interested in his coffee-themed olive branch.
There was a pause before Tom's following message came through. I could almost picture him, brow furrowed, carefully considering his words.
Tom: Sara, listen. Don't let this guy get in your head. You can't keep dwelling on the past if you want a good life. What's done is done.
I blinked, surprised by the sudden seriousness of his tone. It was like he'd flipped a switch from playful banter to sage advice in seconds flat.
Me: Wow, Professor. Getting all philosophical on me this early in the morning?
Tom: Just speaking from experience. Exes are exes for a reason.
His words hit me harder than I expected. Something in that simple statement resonated deep within me. It was like Tom had reached through the phone and gently shook my soul.
Me: You're right. Thanks. I needed to hear that.
Tom: Anytime. How about we discuss something more interesting than your ex's poor mug taste?
I grinned at Tom's message. He always knew how to lighten the mood.
Without thinking twice, I hit the call button and held my breath as the phone rang. One ring, two rings...
"Well, hello there," Tom's deep voice purred through the speaker. "Couldn't resist hearing my sexy morning voice?"
"Oh please, don't flatter yourself. I just figured it'd be easier to talk than text."
"Uh-huh, sure. Keep telling yourself that. We both know you're addicted to my dulcet tones."
"You caught me. I'm helplessly in thrall to your vocal chords. What did you want to talk about that was so much more interesting than my ex's misguided attempt at reconciliation via dinnerware?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a soft laugh. "Nothing much, really. I just sent that message for fun. I thought I'd mess with you a bit."
I groaned dramatically. "Seriously? You're worse than Matt with that mug. At least he had a purpose, even if it was stupid."
"Ouch. Are you comparing me to your cheating ex? That's cold, Sara. Ice cold."
"Hey, if the shoe fits..." I teased, glancing at the clock. "Look, as much as I'd love to continue this riveting conversation about nothing, I don't have time for your 'fun.' Some of us have to get dressed and pretend to be functioning adults."
"Dressed? You mean you're not already?" His voice dropped an octave lower. "What exactly are you wearing right now?"
Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Oh, I would. I really, really would."
I bit my lip, fighting the urge to play along. "Down, boy. Save that talk for later. I've got places to be, people to see, you know how it is."
He sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. Ruin all my fun. But before you go, don't forget about our weekend plans."
"How could I? It's only been on my mind since you mentioned it," I admitted, then quickly added, "I'm looking forward to it. What exactly did you have in mind?"
"Ah ah ah, that would be telling. I haven't quite decided yet. I'll surprise you soon enough."
I huffed in mock frustration. "Tease. You know I hate surprises."
"Liar. You love them. Especially when they involve me."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Professor."
"Oh, I sleep just fine. Though I'd sleep better with you next to me," he purred.
"Alright, Casanova. I'd love to continue this little flirt fest, but I need to go. Some of us have actual responsibilities, you know."
"Responsibilities? Never heard of them. Sounds boring."
I snorted. "Says the guy who's supposed to be shaping young minds. I'm hanging up now before your irresponsibility rubs off on me."
"Wait!" Tom's voice took on an exaggerated panic. "You can't leave me yet. We haven't discussed the most important topic of the day."
"And what's that? The weather? The stock market? The existential dread of being a millennial in today's economy?"
"No, no, and definitely no. I'm talking about what you're wearing right now."
"Oh, for crying out loud," I groaned. "If you must know, I'm wearing the outfit you washed last night. Happy now?"
"Ah, yes, I remember. I washed those after our little... shower sex."
Heat rushed to my cheeks as memories of our steamy encounter flashed. "Tom! You don't have to bring up the shower sex right now."
"Why not? It's a fond memory. Very fond, in fact. I particularly enjoyed the part where you-"
"Stop right there," I cut him off, my face burning. "I'm trying to get ready for class, and you're not helping."
"On the contrary, I'm helping plenty. Nothing like a little morning reminiscing to get the blood flowing, right?"
"Tom, seriously," I groaned, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my body at his words. "I don't have time for this. Or for being horny, for that matter. I've got classes to attend, studying to do, and an MBA to finish. You know, actual adult responsibilities?"
"Ouch," he chuckled. "Are you saying I'm not an adult responsibility?"
"More like an adult distraction," I shot back.
"A very sexy distraction, I hope," Tom purred.
I bit my lip, fighting back a smile. "The sexiest. But that doesn't change the fact that I need to go."
"Fine, fine," he conceded. "But what about our weekend plans? Are you bailing on those, too?"
"I never said that," I replied quickly. Maybe too quickly. "I mean, I haven't decided yet. It depends on how much work I get done this week."
"Uh-huh," Tom said, and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "Well, I hope you fit me into your busy schedule. I'd hate to think of you all alone in your apartment, buried in textbooks."
"I'm perfectly capable of entertaining myself, you know."
"Oh, I bet you are," he said, his voice dropping to that low, sexy rumble that never failed to make my knees weak. "I'd love to hear all about how you entertain yourself when I'm not around."
"I am not having this conversation with you right now."
He laughed. "Alright, alright. I'll let you go. But before I do, just one more thing."
"What?"
"Think about me in the shower," he said, his voice husky and full of promise. "And maybe use your talented fingers to... relieve some tension."
My breath caught in my throat. "I... I have to go," I stammered.
"Have a good day, Sara," Tom said, chuckling. "And don't forget - I'll think about you too."
With that, he hung up, leaving me standing in my kitchen, flushed and flustered. I looked at the clock one more time and swore under my breath. I was definitely going to be late now.
As I rushed to get ready, Tom's words echoed in my mind. Think about me in the shower. Use those talented fingers...
"Damn it," I muttered, stepping under the hot spray of water. Tom's voice echoed in my head, making it impossible to focus on anything else. I tried to push the thoughts away, but my body had other ideas.
"No, no, no," I scolded myself, reaching for the shampoo. "You don't have time for this, Sara. Get your act together."
I lathered up my hair, scrubbing more vigorously than necessary. The faster I got clean, the faster I could get out of here and stop thinking about Tom's... everything.
"Think pure thoughts," I muttered. "Puppies. Grandma. Tax returns."
It wasn't working.
With a frustrated groan, I rinsed off in record time and stepped out of the shower. As I wrapped a towel around myself, I caught sight of my flushed face in the mirror.
"You're pathetic," I told my reflection. "One phone call, and you're a mess."
Shaking my head, I headed to my closet to get dressed. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, trying to ignore the lingering warmth in my body.
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