2

Blue hair, almond-shaped, caramel-colored eyes, thick lips that look as soft as a rose petal. Even their naturally shaded sangria tint is seductive enough to make me want to bite into them. I can't get her out of my head. Is it a coincidence that she showed up at my show and lecture? I doubt she's stalking me. She looked completely shocked to have seen me today. She pushed her glasses up her perfectly symmetrical nose so many times I thought I'd see her delicate skin go raw.

Somehow, that makes me think of her round ass, raw from a good spanking. Great, now I'm getting flashes of her naked flesh covered in my rope. Her delicate skin shielded to then glorify the imprints of my doings. My dick twitches and I clear my throat.

I could get Irene to look up the names of attendees. I shake my head. No. That's ludicrous.

She's a student. Not my student, but still. I can't risk losing my position and reputation. Although I've been trying to step away from academia and instead focus all of my attention on my company, teaching a class opens up a different horizon for the business. The support of the school board is substantial, and it will help the execution of the next transition, allowing it to roll as smoothly as possible. The clause to teach at least one course was a no-brainer.

One year, one class, is all I needed to give them.

Working in education is just one stepping stone, but an important one. The program I created allows the user to both create and erase data from the system. Wiping away entire profiles or generating them from nothing. Maintaining secrecy and believability with the government itself is no easy feat. It's a key element specifically designed to find, manipulate, and destroy terrorists in their tracks. As the sole creator and owner of the software, blending in as a professor works in my favor.

If I lost the support of the university for becoming involved with one of their students, it would equal losing their funds. Not to mention the scandal that the press would have a feast with.

No. It isn't worth it. As intriguing as she is, it'd be the one mistake I wouldn't be able to erase.

Viktor sits directly in front of me with his wool trenchcoat pulled together at the top.

"Relax, we're staying."

"If we leave now, we can still make it to the spot down the street."

I suppress a smile. "You made reservations?"

"Of course I did. I knew you'd pick whatever hole in the wall first popped up on your Google search."

"Don't be a snob, I like it here," I shrug. "We're staying."

The place isn't as bad as his body language suggests. It's a small, quaint establishment with simple menu options. All brick walls in its interior, concrete flooring, dimly lit candle fixtures with faux flames flickering throughout. A bar with a black granite counter lines the far wall with more booze options than any restaurant Viktor would select.

A strum of an electric guitar's chords booms from a nearby amplifier and my comrade's eyes bulge. I force my lips together, stifling my laughter. Light tapping on a cymbal begins, and Viktor shakes his head.

"You're kidding me."

Word on the street is that one of the finest local indie bands is playing at this location tonight, and I love the opportunity to listen to live music. Especially when their collection entails both English and Spanish alternative rock that dominated the nineties. I wasn't going to miss the opportunity of witnessing my old college roommate's ears bleed in public because he's subjected to listening to some of my favorite tunes.

I signal our waitress, and she rushes toward us.

"Your strongest whiskey for my friend here and your cheapest wine for me."

She walks away, and my booming laugh competes with the band's notes. "Come on, humor me. I need this."

Viktor shakes his coat open and smooths it over his chair. "Their fries better be good."

After six songs and halfway through his second drink, my old friend finally eased up. At least as much as can be expected from an uptight, pompous socialite. As self-righteous and overbearing as he may be, hanging out with Viktor brings back old and familiar memories that ease the tension of uprooting your life across the country.

It's not his fault he was bred with the need to bottle fame and glory. He chases it, and therefore cringes at the mere thought of stepping into anything he deems unworthy of his presence.

"So, tell me the real reason you fled your Golden State."

I exhale in exasperation. "Business opportunity."

"Right." Viktor nods, his eyes drawn to slits.

"Well, that and I missed you."

We both laugh and he lifts his glass to salute me. "Of course you did."

I don't know if he's serious or if he understood my sarcasm, but his next words are muffled behind the sound of a woman's voice. It's the band's drummer, and while all of their songs were sung by their lead guitarist, I never once looked at the stage until now.

Fuck me, it's her. This has got to be more than just a mere coincidence.

Her azure blue hair gleams in the dim light, forcing rays of sapphire to collide with brighter hues of my new favorite color, striking me each time she moves. It's one of Evanescence's songs, Everybody's Fool.

Her voice grips me in a trance. I know I look crazy and it's all her doing. I leave Viktor behind mid-sentence and allow the current of her vocal cords to propel me forward. I watch, mesmerized, as she strikes the drums and keeps the melody, dare I say, even better than the original.

So she's a computer science major, draws expertly well, plays the drums, and sings. What the fuck can't she do?

How the hell am I going to walk away now?