Professor Feelgood (Page 22)

“I know. For me.”

I breathe through my frustration as he slides onto the stool, and a waitress appears beside him. When he orders a bourbon, a part of me squirms because he’s not old enough to have hard liquor. But of course, that’s not true anymore. Come to think of it, adolescent Jake never cared much for the legal drinking age, either.

When the waitress leaves, I fix him with my most potent glare. “As tempted as I am to hear about whatever bullshit you’ve been up to since high school, I’m going to have to take a hard pass on this get-together. I have a business meeting.”

He looks at me like I just told him gravity is real. “So, let’s talk business. Is it cool if I also pay for ‘optional extras’ from you, mistress? I mean, the golden shower thing isn’t really my bag, but I’m sure we could work out something else. What’s your position on spanking? Yes? Or, hell yes?”

God, give me strength.

“You know what?” I shove my phone back into my purse. “You want to be an ass? No problem. You do you. But I’m going to move to another table.” I give him an insincere smile. “So glad we bumped into each other, Jacob. Let’s never do it again, okay?”

When I slide off my stool and turn to go, his hand closes around my arm.

“For fuck’s sake, Tate, were you always this clueless? Sit your ass back down.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Sorry, that was rude. Sit your ass back down, please.”

I pull my arm out of his grip and resist wiping it clean of Jake-germs. God, I really am living in a time warp tonight.

“First,” I say, leveling a finger at him. “Don’t touch me. Second, don’t tell me what to do. Your bullying tactics don’t work on me anymore. And third, don’t touch me.”

I can’t stand the clammy handprint on my skin any longer, so I quickly wipe away the tingling sensation. “I know this will probably come as shock to you, but you were a douchebag in high school, and you’re a douchebag now, so no, I’m not going to submit to one more moment in your presence. And here’s another newsflash –– I’ve completed three-and-a-half self-defense courses at my local Tae Kwon Do dojo, so believe me when I say that if you lay your giant gorilla hands on me ever again, I will fuck you up.”

He stares for a second, seeming beyond shocked that I’ve stood up for myself for once. To be honest, I’ve surprised myself. This reaction is the result of the countless times I fantasized about what I should have done or said to him in high school, instead of suffering in silence.

Still, I’m not used to being so forceful with him, and my heart is thrumming so hard, I can feel the vibrations in my feet.

Jake is still staring at me in stunned silence.

Holy shit. Is this what it’s like to beat Jacob Stone? Can it be I’ve finally learned the secret to defeating him and his annoying bullshit?

Three seconds later, my chest-warming sense of satisfaction dissolves in a puff of humiliation when he breaks into a low rumble of laughter.

“Damn, Tate,” he says, in an awestruck tone. “That was terrifying. Please don’t fuck me up, tiny woman. I’m young and have so much to live for.”

I make a disgusted noise then snatch my glass up and take a step toward a free table a few yards away. Unfortunately, I don’t get far, because in a flash, Jake’s out of his seat and blocking my path.

Okay, wasn’t expecting someone so big to move that fast. Inconvenient.

“Tate, come on. You can’t leave. I don’t have enough cash on me to pay for professional comedy tonight.” Even though Jake has always preferred brooding to smiling, it’s clear he finds my irritation hilarious, and accordingly, I get even more irritated.

Goddammit.

“You know,” I say, drawing myself up as tall as possible, which in these heels is about five-foot-eight. “Maybe you’re right. You should hang around and meet the guy I’m waiting for.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because he’s honest, down-to-earth, and emotionally aware in ways you’ll never be. He’s someone who doesn’t have to hide behind bullshit and sarcasm. He’s real, and sincere, and writes with the sort of raw vulnerability you’ll never understand. So, go ahead and laugh at me all you want. I don’t give a crap about what you think. As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing more than a speed bump on a shitty highway I left behind years ago.”

Jakes expression darkens. Can it be I’ve finally hit a nerve?

He pauses, and a muscle tics in his jaw. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

There’s a saying about how people ‘stare daggers’ when they’re pissed. With Jake, it’s more like machetes. His eyes have always been the darkest brown I’ve ever seen; almost black. But whenever he gets angry, they seem to hide some sort of internal fire. Tiny flecks of amber play tricks with the light. They’re what make his glare so debilitating.

How he’s staring at me now? I experienced it way too often in high school, and it always made my lungs seize up, as if I were riding a roller coaster that plummeted to its lowest point in a millisecond.

In the past, it would have sent me scurrying away as quickly as possible before he could say something to make me feel stupid or small, but not tonight. Despite my whole body going nuclear, I lift my chin in defiance and deploy my most epic-level glare. “Now … if you’ve finished your macho-bullshit routine for the night, let me pass. As usual, I have far more interesting people to spend time with than you.”

There are those flickers in his eyes again, more of them this time. I know I’m hitting below the belt, but I refuse to go back to being his punching bag. I have enough self-loathing about our past, and I’m determined to never be that girl again.

Jake stares for a few more seconds, and I know he’s fighting the urge to bite back. But in a surprising show of restraint, he presses his lips into a line, gives a tight nod, and steps out of my way.

“No problem, Mistress Tate. I’m so sorry to have ruined your evening with my presence. I should have known better. By all means, leave.”

With a breath to steady my nerves, I go to move past him, but I stop dead when he adds, “Although, I’d hoped for a warmer reception tonight, considering I’m now your star author.”

I stop breathing as the gears of my mind screech to a sudden halt. When I turn to face him in slow motion, I vaguely wonder if he can see all the blood draining from my face.

“What … did you say?”

“Oh, yes, Brooklyn,” he says, his tone getting as hard as his stare. “I normally don’t find desperation attractive in a woman, but today when you practically begged me to sign with you … well, that was one of the most satisfying experiences of my life.”

His voice has changed. Dropped in pitch and darkened in color. It’s not Jake’s anymore. It’s his.

Dear God, no.

My scalp prickles as goosebumps crawl over my skin.

The sarcasm I’m so used to seeing on his face has disappeared, and all of a sudden, he’s deadly serious. I’m starting to feel like an insect stuck in a web.

“Wow,” he says, studying my expression. “Can it be I’ve finally left you speechless? Or are you just trying to figure out a way to take back all those nice things you said about me and my writing? By the way you were gushing and groveling, I’d swear you were harboring a pretty major crush on a man you despise. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate irony?”