The Professor At The Bar [bxb]

Chapter 1

Miguel

Disappointment filled me as I looked around the place. Not a single guy had caught my eye, and after all that trouble I went through to get away from my frat brothers. I sighed as I signaled the bartender to keep the shots coming. If I am not getting laid, I can at least get drunk. Good thing I had already called a cab to pick me up in twenty minutes.

"You look like you are a second away from comiting murder." A voice came from behind me, sounding friendly and amused.

I turned to face the person who had asked me the question. And holy shit. The man was hot. High cheekbones, full lips and wavy brown hair that fell over his forehead. He wore round gold-rimmed glasses, which made it hard to decipher the color of his eyes. Maybe an inch or two shorter than me and slightly leaner. He wore an olive green button down with gray jeans, and carried a jacket in his arms.

"The seat's not taken." I pointed at the seat next to mine.

He raised his eyebrows with a crooked smile forming on his lips. "I didn't ask."

"No. But the offer still stands."

The man looked me up and down before smiling wider and taking the seat next to me. He looked a little older than me. Mid-twenties maybe? Not that it would matter, It's not like I'd ever meet him again. What I wanted was for him to sit next to me so I could get a clear view of what color those eyes were.

He slightly tilted his head towards me. "So, you want to tell me why you are looking so pissed off, making everyone here want to stay away from you?"

"I wasn't doing that." I defended myself.

He huffed a laugh. "The bartender hasn't come near you, instead settling by sliding your drink over."

Now that I think about it, the bartender had slid me my drinks more often than actually bringing them to me. I didn't know whether to be grateful or annoyed by that.

"Fine, I'm in a shitty mood 'cuz I kind of punched someone today." I confessed.

The man gave me a sly smile. "He deserve it?"

"Totally. He did some real shit to my best friend." I replied.

"Then why are you the one drinking?" He asked.

"Don't know, man. I just feel bad about punching someone, I have never punched anyone. Hurt like a bitch. I might look like a muscle wall, but I'd take sleepovers, and painting my nails over getting into a fight anytime." I shrugged.

The man lets out a laugh, deep and warm. He had a really nice laugh. The corners of his eyes crinkled. His eyes were pale, cool and light grey. Looking at them made me feel weightless.

"Wouldn't have pegged you as somebody who likes sleepovers, but the nails? That I can see." The man said.

I raised my eyebrows. "Why not the sleepovers?"

"You seem like somebody who keeps a secret. And people with secrets usually tend to prefer their own company more or to be surrounded. No middle ground."

"And you deduced that I was the former kind."

"Not actually a hard deduction to make." He gives me a pointed look, reminding me why he started talking to me in the first place.

He wasn't exactly wrong. It's kind of amazing how he figured that about me. What was more amazing was that I wasn't particularly bothered by it. He was a stranger after all, also, most astounding conversations are usually made with strangers.

"Right," I nodded. "But the thing is, I don't mind some company once in a while. Especially if it's a good one."

The man curled his lips into a sexy smile, definitely catching on to the meaning of my comment.