Page 15 of Soup Sandwich
Oh. My. Hell.
“Murphy.” I grab my friend’s arm, squeezing it.
“Ow. What?” She shakes me off, but I can’t drag my gaze away.
“The new professor?” I point a shaky finger. “Is that him?”Please say no, please say no, please say no.
“Yep. That’s him.”
Of course, it is. How awesome for me.
“You said rock star?”
“Rock star,” she parrots, oblivious to my inner turmoil “As in an actual rock star. Callan Barrows was the drummer for Central Square. That kick-ass band from all those years ago that broke up when their manager died. He became a doctor and word has it, he was the protégé of Dr. Lawrence. This could not be any better. Eye candy—because hello, he’s ridiculously hot—and famous. Hot doc for the win!”
“Right. What emergency room does he work in?”
Please don’t say it, please don’t say it, please don’t say it.
“MGH.”
Yup. Because that’s how my life is going right now.
My hot one-night stand is my new professor. And my new boss.
I knew he was somewhat familiar. I knew there was something beyond my physical attraction to him. I knew he had money, and I vaguely considered he was a doctor because I saw a medical journal sitting on his coffee table and his father was one. I just hadn’t given it much thought because hello, I was not there to learn about him or discuss his profession.
He was also upset on Friday. He mentioned how he too was having a bad day, and if he was close with Dr. Lawrence, that could easily explain it.
This is a nightmare.
“A nightmare? Why?”
Argh! Clearly I do that speaking my inner thoughts aloud thing with more than just with my hot-one-night-stand.
But what the actual fuck am I going to do?
I clear my throat, hoping my voice comes out even. “No reason. I just miss Dr. Lawrence is all.”
“Oh. Sure.” Her voice fills with sympathy. “I totally get that. I can’t believe you were there for that.”
Meanwhile, I’m staring down our professor like some sort of visual stalker. I don’t want him to look at me, but I also want to know the second he does so I can catch his face and see if he freaks out the way I am.
I drop into a seat in the back and at the end of the row trying not to collapse into a fit of panic-induced hysteria.
How is this a possibility?
I mean, there have to be odds to this, and they can’t be very high, right?
Callan Barrows. I snicker. Dr. Hottie McSterious works so much better for him.
I slink down in my chair, open my laptop and position it in front of my face, hoping to be invisible and make a quick escape after class when his eyes finally meet mine. Dark blue. Instantly shocked. He stares and stares as if he’s trying to make sense of my being here.
And when he has all the pieces put together, boy is he unhappy to see me.
Can’t say I blame him.
We had hot, hot sex all night. I moaned his name, scratched my nails down his back, lost count of the number of orgasms he gave me, and then fled like a thief in the night the second he fell asleep.