I sat in Professor Patterson’s lecture, despising the way he talked, walked and breathed. How could he pompously teach in the classroom whilst he was having illicit romping sessions with a married Dean Harris in the university public library.

“Miss Reed,” called out Professor Patterson, picking me out from all the other students in the classroom.

“Yes?” I said, as my insides cringed.

“Could you please summarise the findings of the homework?”

“All of it?” I said, incredulously, gritting my teeth.

“That’s what a summary means,” retorted Professor Patterson, thick with sarcasm.

The whole class chuckled at Professor Patterson’s witty smugness whilst I glared at him.

I wondered if he would be so smug if I announced to the entire class that he was having an affair with the Dean of the university who was in fact married...but I wasn’t an impulsive person – maybe if I was Eden, I wouldn’t give a flying fuck about the repercussions but I wasn’t her, and I wasn’t Ruth who would politely smile and shrug off Professor Patterson’s rudeness because of his authoritative status.

I was me, Mackenzie Reed and I would not let him continue in his smugness nor would I allow him to subdue me to silence. I would subtly hint at his secret tryst without alarming anyone in the classroom, except him.

“Microeconomics is associated with specific markets taking into account factors like consumer behaviour, for example, the Prostitution Market,” I began but was interrupted by Professor Patterson’s uncomfortable cough.

“Is this part of your homework findings, Miss Reed?” inquired Professor Patterson, sceptically. “Is this example appropriate for the classroom?”

Did he just ask me that? What did he know about appropriate?

“Yes, Professor Patterson, this specific market is very appropriate for the classroom, we cannot just avoid a market because we might deem it unethical –at least this market acknowledges what they do publically,” I stated, trying to remain calm and collected.

“Well, if you feel strongly about it – I will allow it provided that the reasoning behind it is valid. Please continue,” said Professor Patterson.

I nodded at him and continued my cunning explanation, wondering if Professor Paterson would really understand the appropriateness of the example.

“In recent years, a study has shown that there has been a downward spiral in prostitution service sales due to illicit affairs between single and married individuals –apparently the study revealed that these single and married individuals enjoy risky ventures like a secret rendezvous in a public library,” I said, feeling vindicated when I saw Professor Patterson smug look disappear and his eyes dilated into something like panic. “...dark alleys are also popular according to the survey in the study. This consumer behaviour in this specific market is forcing the Prostitution Market to venture on a new marketing strategy and –“

“Thank you, Miss Reed,” interrupted Professor Patterson, rapidly coughing like there was something permanently stuck in his throat – probably guilt. “I think you’ve summarised your point and the homework quite well. So class, this is the end of the lesson,” stammered Professor Patterson, rushing to pack his laptop and books.

I watched him dash off nervously, he did not bother to look at me or any of the other students. This is what people who are guilt-ridden do – they run off and find their illicit lover just like my father did.

“Oh my god, Mackenzie!” exclaimed someone behind me. “Did you just scare Professor Patterson into ending the lecture ten minutes early?”

I turned around and found Claire Lauder, smiling brightly at me.

“I just think he doesn’t approve of the Prostitution Market,” I said, turning around to pack my books.

“I think there is more that he doesn’t approve of,” said Claire, “that was so badass. I’ve never seen Professor Patterson so rattled.”

Maybe he wouldn’t be so rattled if he had done the right thing, I thought as I smiled back at Claire. “If you think that was badass, you haven’t met my friend Eden – now she is the definition of badass.”

“You mean Eden Johnson? The girl dating Robert Harris?”

“Yeah, she’s one of my best friends,” I said, observing Claire’s expression change from excitement to slightly sour.

I continued to pack my books and stood to leave. “Well, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around,” I told Claire and began walking off, the look on her face made me remember Gabriel Harris’ insults.

“Wait!” shrieked Claire, running after me. “I mean... I don’t think that...that your friend is...”

“My best friend,” I corrected Claire, “and what did you think of her? Never mind,” I sighed, “I think I’ve had enough of your silent bashing of my best friend.”

“Sorry,” said Claire, flustered. “I’ve just heard rumours about her from Gabe –I’m sure she is a real badass like you.”

I gave her a ‘are you serious look’.

“I mean badass in a good way – not in a bad, bad way. I think we just got on the wrong foot. I mean, I really like you and want to be your friend,” said Claire in a cute rambling way.

Did anyone say they like someone and wanted to be friends? Didn’t that stop in kindergarten? Maybe university was a big kindergarten.

“Okay,” I agreed, unable to refuse her blue sparkly eyes.“I’d like to be your friend too.”

Claire literally hopped enthusiastically and I found it so adorable – she was like the puppy I never had. Maybe I could curl her hair or dress her up in extravagant gowns –she’d look perfect in all of them.

Oh my god, what was happening here? What was I thinking? Playing dress up with a fellow university student? I was the one stuck in kindergarten.

“Have you got any plans right now?” asked Claire, sweetly.

“I was going to get my afternoon coffee at Voicenotes café,” I replied, wondering if she wanted me to invite her.

“That’s tasteless, you need to come over to my place,” said Claire, snobbishly. “We are going to mingle around the pool and drink espresso martinis.”

“Don’t you think drinking this early on a Monday afternoon is rather tasteless?” I asked, trying not to sound too judgmental.

“It’s not tasteless when you have espresso martinis and chocolate hazelnut torte,” beamed Claire. “The combination is to die for… unless you have classes?”

“No classes until tomorrow afternoon,” I replied, pleasantly surprised that Claire cared more about education than drinking espresso martinis.

“Then you’ll come?”

“I can’t refuse such a tasteful combination. I love espressos, martinis and chocolate,” I grinned, accepting Claire’s invitation. There wasn’t anything wrong with a bit of alcohol, chocolate and new friendship.

                                                                                ***

Claire’s place wasn’t your average university apartment it was an entire three bedroom condo that included a private pool. I wondered if my life would be as fancy if my mother and father and stayed married. Would I live in a fancy condo instead of a dorm?

“Is this where you live?” I asked, stepping inside and taking in all the exquisite art and design.

“Yeah, only one problem – I live with Nicholas,” said Claire like it was an enormous bother. “He just loves setting up strange rules and getting on my nerves.”

“That’s what siblings are for, I guess,” I said, having no clue about sibling rivalry. I was an only child but maybe I wouldn’t be any longer. In my very brief and awkward lunches with my father, he hinted that he was trying to have a child.

“Please take off your shoes,” said Claire, “I know it’s annoying but Nicholas insists. It’s one of his rules.”

“It’s okay, at least I won’t scrape the marble floors,” I joked.

Claire laughed as she went barefoot on the pinkish marble tiles. “I’ll go get us espresso martinis, everyone should be at the pool,” she said, pointing in the direction of the pool.

I sighed, looking around the condo and then at my bare feet. What exactly was I doing here? Why did I feel inferior in such an exquisite and breathtaking place?

“Hey!”

I looked up and found Nicholas walking from the staircase towards me. My stomach did that stupid ‘love at first sight cartwheel’ and then my breath caught when I saw he had no shirt on and his shoulders were broad and muscular.

“Hi,” I managed, trying to breathe.

“Didn’t know you were coming,” said Nicholas, his voice confident and sexy.

“Uh…” I struggled for a brief moment, trying to get my senses under control. “Neither did I. I just got the memo half an hour ago.”

“I’m glad you got it,” he said, “I’ll personally thank the memo messenger.”

I grinned at his wit. “You might think otherwise when you discover who it is,” I replied, feeling less cartwheels and more composed.

“It can’t be any worse than Cupid,” he returned.

“What have you got against Cupid?” I asked.“He is a messenger of true love.”

“Does that include love at first sight?” he asked, gazing at me intently.

“No,” I whispered, biting my lip as I felt a cartwheel sensation rising up in my stomach.

Get a grip, I internally told myself.

He’s an average blue eyed boy.

There isn’t anything here.

“Near to alcohol poisoning is the messenger for love at first sight,” I said, humorously, trying to divert my emotions and the conversation.

“Does that mean,” he said, stepping closer towards me then whispering in my ear, “I’ll have to get you enough espresso martinis until you say yes?”

I felt delightful tingles where he whispered and I bit my lip harder trying to fight this strange chemistry tension between us but I couldn’t. “What makes you think I need espresso martinis to say yes?” I replied, almost a whisper.

His mouth moved along my neck and my heart pounded. I gasped, ready to give in, ready to say yes to something, anything besides espresso martinis.

“What would you have me do to make you say yes?” he asked, whispering on my neck as he lifted my hand.

“Should I kiss you?” he asked, gazing intently at me. His eyes were fiercely blue and filled with passion. “Should I kiss you here?” he asked, his whisper indicating the spot on my neck. “Or should I kiss you here?” he lifted my wrist.

I barely nodded, but I wanted all that he asked.

He kissed the inside of my wrist and I quivered at the touch. I closed my eyes and he flicked his tongue against my wrist and I moaned.

“You’re so sensitive just like the first night,” he said against my wrist. “There’s something about you. I don’t know what it is but –“

“Mackenzie! Why are you still standing at the door?” interrupted Claire, holding two espresso martinis..

I quickly stepped away from Nicholas and snatched my hand back. I blinked at him, unsure about anything. What was happening between me and him?

“Nicholas stop badgering my guest –go find your own friends to annoy,” demanded Claire, as she shoved Nicholas out of her way to give me an espresso martini.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling awkwardly and then gulped down the espresso martini when Nicholas kept his predatory gaze on me.

“Ohhh and I thought you said it was tasteless to drink on a Monday afternoon –now look at you!” laughed Claire.

“Espresso Martinis are never tasteless on any time or day,” I said, focusing fully on Claire whilst my body still sensed Nicholas in the room. “So, Where’s the pool again?”

“Follow me,” she said and I gladly followed her.