Chapter 28
**Sara**
I downed my drink in one gulp, signaling the bartender for another. Maybe if I got drunk enough, I could pretend this whole night was just a bad dream.
The bartender raised an eyebrow but didn't comment as he mixed my drink. I grabbed it the moment he set it down, taking a long sip and relishing the burn in my throat.
I chanced another glance over my shoulder. Tom was still there, laughing at something one of his friends had said. Two men and two women were with him, all looking about his age. They were probably his colleagues, I thought bitterly. At least he wasn't on a date.
It didn't matter. We were nothing to each other—just a professor and his student—nothing more.
I turned back to the bar, hunching over my drink like it was a life raft in a stormy sea. Maybe if I made myself small enough, I'd disappear altogether.
"Are you avoiding me?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Tom's voice right behind me. So much for disappearing.
"Professor Blackwood," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Fancy meeting you here."
I turned to face Tom, my heart racing. "Hi," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
Tom slid onto the barstool beside me, his thigh brushing against mine. The contact sent a jolt through my body, and I had to resist the urge to lean into him. His cologne wafted over me, a heady mix of woodsy and something uniquely Tom.
"So," he said, his voice low and intimate despite the pulsing music around us, "are you avoiding me?"
I cleared my throat, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "Of course not, Professor Blackwood. That would be highly unprofessional."
Tom leaned in closer, his breath tickling my ear. "Sara, please. Stop treating me like a professor. When we're here, like this, I'm just Tom."
I shivered at the intimacy of his whispered words. "I... I can't. You're my professor, and that's how I have to see you."
"Is that so?" He reached out, his fingers grazing my arm. "Because I happen to like it very much when you call me Tom."
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "Professor Blackwood, I-"
"Tom," he interrupted, his voice firm yet gentle. "Call me Tom."
I shook my head, willing my racing heart to slow down. "I don't think that's a good idea," I said.
He leaned back, his eyes searching mine. "Why not?"
"Because you're my professor and this..." I gestured vaguely between us. "This is inappropriate. We can't... we can't be anything more than that."
Tom opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off, needing to put some distance between us. "Excuse me, I need another drink."
I turned back to the bar, signaling the bartender for a refill. As I waited, I could feel Tom's eyes on me, burning into the back of my neck. I shifted uncomfortably, wondering if I should just leave. This was all too much, too soon.
The bartender slid a fresh drink in front of me, and I grabbed it gratefully, taking a long sip. The liquid helped to calm my nerves, if only slightly.
I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart sank. Jessica and Brad were on the dance floor, their bodies pressed together so tightly it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. They were completely lost in their little world, oblivious to everything and everyone around them.
I turned back to the bar, downing the rest of my drink in one long gulp.
I signaled for another drink, desperately trying to ignore the warmth radiating from Tom's body next to me. The bartender gave me a concerned look but obliged, sliding another shot glass my way.
"Sara," Tom's low voice was almost drowned out by the thumping bass. Do you want to get out of here? It seems like your friend is... occupied."
I snorted, glancing back at Jessica, who was now practically devouring Brad's face on the dance floor. "That's one way to put it."
"We could go somewhere quieter, talk," he suggested, his fingers brushing against mine on the bar top.
I jerked my hand away, reaching for my drink instead. "I think I need more of this first."
Tom fell silent as I nursed my drink, but I could feel his eyes on me. It was unnerving how he could make me feel so exposed with just a glance. I drained my glass and motioned for another.
"Sara, maybe you should slow down."
I ignored him, grabbing the fresh drink and taking a long swig. The alcohol was starting to hit me now, the room spinning ever so slightly at the edges. But it wasn't enough. I needed more to drown out the conflicting emotions swirling in my chest.
"Sara, please," Tom's hand closed over mine, stilling it as I went to take another sip. "That's enough."
I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could say a word, a familiar voice cut through the haze.
"Professor Blackwood! Fancy seeing you here!"
Jessica's voice was overly bright, her words slightly slurred. She stumbled up to us, Brad in tow, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist.
Tom's hand slipped from mine as he turned to greet Jessica. "Ms. Thompson, good evening."
"Oh, please," Jessica waved her hand dismissively. "Call me Jessica. We're not in class now, are we?"
Of course, Jessica had no problem blurring the lines between student and professor.
"This is Brad," Jessica continued, practically shoving her new boy toy in Tom's face. "Brad, this is Professor Blackwood. He teaches our Corporate Finance class."
Brad nodded, clearly uninterested in anything other than getting Jessica back to his place. "Nice to meet you, man."
"We're heading out," Jessica announced, her eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement. "Brad's got a hot tub at his place."
I did not need that mental image.
"Wait," I said, my words more slurred than intended. "Who's gonna take me home?"
Jessica's eyes darted between Tom and me. "I'm sure Professor Blackwood wouldn't mind giving you a ride, would you?"
Tom cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Of course, I'd be happy to ensure Sara gets home safely."
"Perfect!" Jessica chirped, already backing away, tugging Brad along with her. "You two have fun now!"
And just like that, they were gone, leaving me alone with Tom and rapidly emptying tequila shots.
"Dammit," I muttered, dropping my head into my hands. "Why do I keep letting her drag me out to pubs?"
"She seems... enthusiastic."
"That's one word for it," I grumbled, lifting my head to glare at him. "You don't have to take me home, you know. I can call a cab."
"Nonsense," Tom said, his hand resting on the small of my back. The touch sent shivers up my spine. "I'd feel better knowing you got home safely."
I wanted to argue, push him away, and insist I could care for myself. But the room was spinning more than ever now, and the thought of trying to navigate my way home alone suddenly seemed daunting.
"Fine," I conceded, sliding off the barstool and stumbling. Tom's arm shot out to steady me, his grip firm but gentle.
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