Chapter 11: Eleven

Declan looked…mad. I had to crane my head to look up at him as he seethed down at the pair of us.

“Dr. Ashwell!” I exclaimed.

“Miss Whitefield.” He murmured, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Christopher.

I looked at Chris urgently. “Um, this is… my professor.”

Chris’s eyes widened for a second. “Oh!”

“Just,” I whispered, “Give me a second, Christopher.”

I got off my chair, and grabbed Declan’s hand, dragging him to a far corner of the bar. “Why are you glaring at us like we killed someone you know?”

He looked down at me. His eyes were hooded, and I could see his fists clenched to the side. “Who is that?”

“Just someone I met ten minutes ago. What is it to you?”

Declan’s fingers encircled my wrist. He squeezed. “Yeah? You habitually pick up men at the bar like this?”

My eyebrows furrowed. Was he jealous? Where was this coming from?

“Why are you here, Dr. Ashwell?” I stressed on his name, stressing on the fact we had a newfound relationship between us now that erased the one great night we had had. “Aren’t you going to pick someone up tonight?”

He gritted his teeth as he spoke, “I’m meeting a friend, Willow. I think you should go back home.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t tell me what to do. You can’t, around here. Now I’m going back to where I was, and please, don’t interrupt us again.” I turned on my heel and stomped away. I didn’t turn around until I was seated again in front of Christopher. He had gotten me another drink.

“So that’s your professor?” He asked. A smile played along his lips. I licked my lips. “Yep.”

“Interesting.”

Christopher was watching me like a hawk. His eyes darted past me to where Declan was sitting with a man, talking, and then he looked back at me. “You two had an awful lot of tension for being his student.” He said, “And he looked like he wanted to kill me.”

“You don’t have to worry about him. It’s just…complicated.”

“With a teacher?” He smirked, “Man, so glad I didn’t go to grad school.”

I smiled, “It’s not like that.”

“Anyway, you can call me, Chris, you know. My mother calls me Christopher.”

“Chris it is,” I said.

Chris and I talked for quite long. He told me about his work and I told him about my research. He seemed genuinely interested in it and asked a lot of questions. He was really such a sweet guy, he was decent and polite and hadn’t made any sexual comments yet.

After about two hours, Cassie came over, to tell me she was leaving with the guy she had come here to meet. She shared her location with me and left.

“Well,” I said to Chris, “I think I should leave as well. I’ve got assignments. But it was really fun today, hanging out with you.”

He nodded. “I’d love to take you to dinner someday, if you’re down. Give me your number?”

I put my number in his phone. Then, I bade him goodbye and left. I opened up Uber and began to book a cab. It was taking very long, so I was simply leaning against a wall looking at my phone, when I heard Declan and his friend. The other guy said his goodbyes to Declan. I guess he had walked here, because he turned to the other side and started his way on foot. Declan saw me, and I felt him approach, but I didn’t look up at him.

“Dude didn’t offer you a ride home?” He mocked, “Pussy.”

I made a face at him, indignantly responding to the word. “He doesn’t need to. He was being a gentleman.”

Declan snorted. “He was staring at your tits the entire time.”

“And why do you know that? I saw you, okay. You were looking at us the whole time.”

He grabbed me. His arm snaked around my waist, and he pulled me flush against him. My chest brushed against his, and my breath quickened.

“You love playing with me, Willow.” He said, his words coming out all breathy. “You love making me mad.”

He let go of me with a jerk, and I stumbled a little. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“Its fine,” My voice was shaky, “I’m sure I’ll get an Uber.”

“Come, Willow.” He ordered. His gaze on me was hard, leaving no room for argument. I followed him to his car sheepishly, struggling to keep up with his long strides. He got in first, and I followed suit, sitting down in the shotgun seat, putting on my belt.

“Where?”

I recited my address, and he nodded. We drove in silence, with him sparing me the occasional glance through the corner of his eyes. When my building arrived, he pulled in, but he didn’t unlock the car.

He turned to look at me. “I’m sorry, Miss Whitefield. I don’t know what came over me.”

“What?” I breathed.

“Just,” he clenched his jaw, clenched his fists, “Seeing you with that man. It made me jealous. I’m sorry. I know what we talked about. I’ll control it,” his gaze bore into me, the blue orbs of his eyes dark in the night, “But I knew what he was thinking about. Knew what he wanted to do to you. I couldn’t take it.”

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, “You were jealous?”

I breathed deeply.

Oh.

Declan closed his eyes, his head leaning against the car seat. “Willow,” he sighed, “Just go. Its alright.”

The car doors unlocked with a sound, and I stayed for a second. I looked at him, his eyes closed, his fingers massaging his temples. I hurriedly got out of the car. I walked upstairs to my flat, so terribly confused by the events of today.