Tame Me If You Can

Chapter 11

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Chapter 11

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Intimate, oak tables nestled in greenery. Fragrances of bread and coffee in the air. My student seated across, with forbidden lips and eyes you can drown in.

No words have been exchanged since Anna and Zhoe left. They had a 'birthday' they 'forgot' to be at. I wouldn't be surprised at all if they were actually hiding in the bushes, taking pictures to show at our future wedding.

The idea of having brunch with a student I've kissed, wearing yoga pants and a sports bra, makes me want to jam a butter knife into my head.

What's worse is that he's sitting there, smiling like it's no big deal. The situation makes me scoff and roll my eyes.

He teasingly copies me, exaggerating my movements. Does he think he's funny?

I sigh with annoyance, fidgeting with my ponytail.

He sighs louder, twirling his big, dumb hand around an imaginery ponytail.

When he keeps going, unaware of the waiter holding our food with a questionable look, it almost makes me smile. But I stay strong.

The waiter sets down my mini pancakes with bananas and syrup. I push my fork into one, taking a bite of the golden cloud dusted with powdered sugar.

A farting sound erupts. I jerk my eyes up to see it's the sound of him draining a bottle of ketchup on hash brown. As if that's not enough, he's now mixing everything on the plate: egg yolk, bacon, potatoes, more ketchup...there goes a bit of pancake too.

When he catches me gaping, his eyes glint with mischief. He takes another bite, keeps his eyes on me, and releases the most inappropriate, obnoxious moan ever heard in public.

People at the nearby tables turn to us, thinking it's me. And that's when I lose it.

"You're so ridiculous!" I laugh, covering my face.

"Got you laughing, though." He smiles, satisfied with himself.

I shake my head. "God... what's your deal, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you doing this?" I ask softly, studying him. "Do you have some sort of a professor fetish or something?"

"Oh yeah. I want to be bent over and spanked with a ruler."

I snort, rolling my eyes. "Nothing wrong with that. Fantasies are quite healthy. Just don't think you can project them on me."

"You seem to know a lot about them. Do you help patients with fantasies?"

I narrow my eyes at his question. Usually people ask for the sake of gossip or to have a dirty conversation. But Jake's eyes seem genuine.

"Why do you ask?" I drawl.

He furrows his eyebrows with amusement. "How often do you think I get the chance to talk to a psychologist? It's interesting."

"Really?"

He looks around like he's missing something. "Yeah? Why are you so confused?"

The realization that no one has ever been interested in my profession sinks in, tugging my corners with self-pity. I push the thoughts away.

"Well, I can't talk about clients. It's confidential." I say gently.

"Alright, then give me your professional opinion on the topic," he persists.