It had been four days, and I was done crying over him. Four days of lying in bed, barely getting up to feed the cat, let alone cook food and shower. Four days of staring at the far wall where I had stupidly hung the one framed photograph we had together, the picture he had not really wanted to take because he hated pictures and he hated PDA. What had resulted was an awkward "couple-y" photo where I was smiling too wide to make up for the fact that he was not smiling at all, with his arm around my shoulders squishing me half-heartedly to his side.
When I actually thought about it, the last two years had been complete bullshit. Wasted. Why hadn't I left him six months in? Why hadn't I left him when I first even suspected he was sleeping around?
But nope. I had been so determined to make it work ("All good relationships take sacrifice, dear," as my mother used to say) that I had ignored every huge red flag. My own angry internal voice echoed the cruel last words Jay Maitland had said to me between drags on a cigarette in the Petco parking lot, as I stood there with tears streaming down my face holding a bag of cat food.
"You're just weak, Liz! God, you let me walk all over you. Of course I had to see how far I could push it! You've known about Heather for weeks, come on, don't act surprised."
Weak. It brought on a fresh stream of tears. I guess I wasn't done crying.
"Yes you are!" Sarah yelled from the other room. Beautiful, crazy, party-girl Sarah Bak. She had been my saving grace over the past few days. Coming over in the evenings to make sure I was eating something other than chicken-flavored ramen noodles. I felt awful, knowing she was worried about me. I felt awful in general.
Sarah was the master of handling breakups. I had seen her go through three, and that girl was the quintessential "movie-style breakup" girl. She would get herself a big glass of wine, chug it on her way to the club, and vomit everything up at the end of the night as if she was literally purging out her ex. When I had seen her cry, it was angry tears. She would sit there and say, "He'll realize what he's missing. He'll fucking regret it. Watch him come crawling back in a month, Liz, just watch!"
I really, really wished I could do that. I wished I could see my own value. How sad is that? God.
"Come on girl, up, get out of that bed before you atrophy to it."
I opened my swollen eyes at Sarah, who stood with her arms crossed over me. She had let herself in, as usual, so I hadn't actually seen her yet since she had been so preoccupied cleaning up my disastrous kitchen. Her long black hair was in a high ponytail, she had false lashes on, and was wearing a short off-the-shoulder red dress.
I sniffled. I had been wearing the same 5-year-old Victoria's Secret leggings and Jay's old t-shirt for days. "What are you all dressed up for?"
"Because we're going out," she said, flinging back my blankets and then going to my closet, rifling through the hangers. "You've been in this apartment way too long. This isn't healthy, Liz. Why are you even sad? You know that guy was such an asshole. He was always an asshole. Two years and he wouldn't even meet your parents? Come on."
I sat up, realizing I really needed a shower. I also really needed to clean my room: there were five half-empty mugs of tea on my bedside table alone. I shuffled to the bathroom and turned the water on as hot as it would go. Just below scalding, perfect. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I was honestly a little horrified. There were dark bags under my eyes, I looked like I had lost 5 pounds, and my brown hair was a complete rat's nest.
"Get it together, Lizbeth," I said, frowning at my sad mirror-self. "Sarah is right. Just get the hell over him already."
Body wash and hot water really do wonders. By the time I had blow-dried and straightened my hair, Sarah had already chosen my outfit for the night: a little black dress with a strappy, harness-inspired cutout around the neck and above the very low-cut neckline. I had been so excited when I got that dress and Jay had hated it. He had said it made me look slutty. So it had gone into the back of my closet, unworn. It actually still had the tags on it.
It still looked as good as when I had first tried it on. It made me feel like I could be one of those kinky porn girls, except my ass was too flat and my tits were too small. I made a mental note to buy a new push-up bra ASAP. Jay had never liked those on me either.
Go figure, the girl he had left me for was a queen of short skirts and big cleavage.
We took an Uber downtown, Sarah sneaking us vodka shots in an innocent-looking water bottle.
"Where are we even going?" I said. "You know my classes start tomorrow right? I really can't get too turned up." She looked at me incredulously. "Really, Sarah, I can't."
"Okay, okay," she said, pouting a little. "We're going to Bailey's!"
"Oh god, Bailey's? Sarah that's such a frat boy bar-"
"Yeah, exactly. Dozens of horny frat boys who are all gonna want a piece of hot Liz ass. Trust me. A little flirting, maybe making out with a stranger you'll never see again? It's good for your self-esteem."
I was pretty sure there had been studies published saying the exact opposite, but whatever. We were already there and I was three shots deep thanks to Sarah's vodka. The Uber dropped us off right in front, where there was luckily no line. The bar was packed nonetheless, mostly college kids getting in their last night out before classes started up again. Sarah and I wormed our way up to the bar where she ordered for us, and then put a bright blue drink in a plastic cup into my hand.
"Adios!" she said cheerily, and downed half of hers before dragging me out amongst the crowd.
The Chainsmokers was blasting over the sound system, a song that had been good the first time I heard it until I couldn't turn on the radio without it playing on every other station. I followed Sarah around as she saw people she knew and went up to say hi, sipping my drinking and smiling and nodding appropriately. I never knew what to do with myself in bars. Clubs were easier, since I could just dance and pretend I was tripping out if I wanted someone to leave me alone. Luckily for me, Sarah took most of the attention so I was spared having to get too involved talking with strangers. The drink was also taking a much more rapid affect than I had expected. Suddenly everything was feeling great.
Just great.
Of course Sarah managed to latch on to some thickly-muscled hunk and disappeared onto the dance floor with him. "I'll be right back," she slurred. "Right back, okay Lizzy, just stay right there."
I leaned against the bar where she had left me, setting down my empty cup. My head was feeling light, and everything felt a little numb. Definitely drunk. Crap. A guy offered to buy me a drink, but he honestly looked just a little too much like Jay. I lied and told him I was waiting for my boyfriend to get back, motioning in the general direction of the bathroom.
And that's when I saw him.
He was sitting at one of the few tall round tables in the place, chin resting on his fist. He looked like someone had picked him up out of a library and plopped him into a bar. He had tousled dark blonde hair, with a slim build and cheekbones sharp enough to cut a girl. Damn. Thin silver glasses sat on his nose, and he was . . . actually reading a book?
In a bar?
The liquor was giving me courage, and with a deep breath I sidled over.
"Hi," I said, trying to seem casual and confident. He glanced up at me in surprise, as if he had forgotten that he was actually in a public place.
"Hello," he said, with the slightest hint of a smile around his perfect lips. Oh god. The liquor was making me horny too.
"Are you really reading Marquis de Sade?" I said, nodding at the book in his hands, Philosophy in the Bedroom. He laughed, looking at the book as if a little embarrassed.
"Yeah, ahh," he shrugged. "Classes start tomorrow. I have to study up. You're familiar with de Sade?"
"I've read some of his short fiction," I said. "He's one seriously twisted fuck."
That got him to laugh. I liked the way his eyes lit up when he did. He was nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I still haven't quite been able to get through 120 Days of Sodom. Just so disturbing. But I find libertine philosophy, over all, to be pretty interesting-"
"Heeeeyyyy, giiiiirl!" Sarah suddenly wrapped herself around me, hugging me way too tightly. Wow, she was drunk. She still had hunky-boy with her too. She motioned to him, "This is Rich, by the way. Oooh, and hello, who is this?"
"Kahlan," he said, extending his hand to her. She looked confused, so he said his name again, louder this time. I don't think it actually did any good, because she called him Caitlyn for the rest of the night.
"Come on, we need more drinks," she said, tugging at me before her man-hunk shoved his way up to the bar. I really did not think I needed another drink. She definitely didn't need one. I looked back at Kahlan a little helplessly.
"Do you want a drink?" I said.
He got up from his seat, tucking the book under his arm. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? I'll buy."
Sarah was downing some pink thing with a cherry in it. Man-hunk was asking her if she could tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue. Now that he was standing, I realized how tall this Kahlan guy was. He wasn't muscular, but he was well-built, slim and long. Like a pianist, or a painter, or something romantic like that. God. I really didn't need another drink.
"I'll get an Old Fashioned," Kahlan said, before turning to me. "What would you like?"
"Oh, same thing you're having." I was slurring. Dammit. He frowned.
"Are you sure?"
I wasn't. But I said I was.
My ability to form short term memories for the rest of the night was awful. I remember a lot of 80's songs playing. I remember discovering that Old Fashioned's tasted awful, so Kahlan finished mine for me. I had some vague recollection of grinding on him to Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar On Me.
Then we were on the sidewalk. My heels were in my hand because my feet hurt like hell and I was telling Kahlan that I could just walk back to my apartment because it was only two blocks. Sarah had gotten an Uber with man-hunk, but it didn't matter because I knew this city like the back of my hand and I could walk two blocks at 1 in the morning no problem.
Kahlan got an Uber. "I'm not letting you out of my sight," he said, helping me get into the car without hitting my head.
"Good, I'm not letting you out of my sight," I said. I wasn't really sure how loud I was speaking. Kahlan had this amused little smile on his face, but I still felt as if I should apologize. I hiccupped. "Sorry. Sorry, Kahlan."
He looked genuinely concerned. "Why?"
I bent over in the seat. I considered vomiting but decided that wasn't a good idea. "I'm just so drunk," I muttered.
I heard him laugh. That made me happy. "I know. Don't worry about it."
By the time we had reached my apartment, I knew exactly what I wanted. "You're coming up, right?" I said, as the car pulled to the sidewalk. He shook his head quickly.
"That's not a good idea," he said, but he sounded as if he regretted saying it. "You're too drunk."
I frowned and shoved him gently. "I'm not. Come on. Come up. You have to at least see me to my apartment right?"
Kahlan considered a moment. His eyes – dark, chocolate-y brown – were suddenly hard when they met mine. Almost . . . scary.
"If I go up there," he said slowly. "You're not really going to get any sleep."
I grinned, feeling a kid in a candy shop. I took his hand and pulled him along after me as we left the car. "Come on then. Sleep is overrated."
+++
note: Welcome one and all to The Professor's Girl, a dirty little project of mine written for your - and my ;) - pleasure. Ever had an ex so bad you just needed some writing therapy to get him out of your system? I did. So I changed his name and made him a gross book character named Jay XD. I'm like the Taylor Swift of writers.
No, no, but in all seriousness, this is meant for fun. I giggled a lot whilst writing it. Especially the next chapter *fans self*.
If you enjoy these chapters, don't forget to vote! I love hearing back from readers! ♡