The Professor (Book 2)

Sticky Situation (Bonus Scene)

"Last chance to back out."

I looked at Harry with an overbearing smile, shaking my head when he smiled back crookedly. "I already said I'd go. But if you'd rather not have me there..."

"I'd rather you didn't have to suffer through this as I have," Harry said, absentmindedly fixing his bow tie with a tired sigh. "But if I do have to, I'd rather have you there by my side."

His hand reached across the car seat and took mine with a soft squeeze. I automatically felt my lips turn upwards in a smile, meeting those amber eyes that always seemed to deepen when they looked into mine.

"Then let's go suffer together," I told, squeezing his hand back before looking down at my dress, smoothing it out and checking it for loose threads.

"You look beautiful," Harry's deep voice reached my ear, and I realized it was because he had leaned in and was speaking right against it. Pecking a soft kiss against my cheek, he took a moment to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear before pulling back with a little smile.

And that, of course, made butterflies spread all throughout my stomach as we exited the car together, stepping out into the dark harbor, me with my brand new, homemade dress.

A few months ago, one of the elderly women I helped at the senior care center had helped me fix a loose button on one of my shirts. She had then divulged, when I insisted she didn't have to, that she used to be a tailor. She had sewn more clothes than she could possibly remember and was happy to lend a hand. And that's how it had started.

A long conversation and a few biscuits later, Monica, as her name was, had agreed to help teach me how to sew. For months, I had been meeting up with her and had been learning every trick in the book she knew about design, fabric and measuring the right way. During my spare time at home, I had been putting that practice to use, making various t-shirts, blouses and skirts. Finally, as my confidence grew and my sewing skills improved, I had dared to try on my first large project; a dress.

It was almost as if fate had intervened. The very day I finished my masterpiece, was the day Harry brought in the news.

– His parents anniversary party.

Apparently, Richard was throwing a party for their parents, celebrating their 45 years of marriage. It was a whole big thing, and of course we were invited to the event (though probably more for publicity reasons than for actually wanting us there). Harry had told me I didn't have to come if I didn't want to, but out of respect for them, he would have to make an appearance. That was his gentlemanly way of saying save yourself.

Knowing the shit that usually went down when Harry shared a space with his family, however, I knew I couldn't let him attend alone. I agreed to go, if only for the sole purpose of being a bodily target to draw heat away from him.

– Because if there was one person they disliked more than Harry, it was me.

So after a short discussion that might've ended up turning into a horizontal non-versation, Harry had finally relented on the condition that he wouldn't leave my side all night. If we were both going to this event, no one would become the target of slander.

And so together, we went into battle.

Stepping onto the dark harbor, checking my homemade dress one last time, Harry came to my side, offered me his arm and led me to the ridiculously large floating prison in front of us where hundreds of passengers were currently clambering onto; a yacht.

"Nothing less than a whole damn yacht," I muttered under my breath, to which Harry chuckled silently. "How big even is this thing?" I asked, trying to arch my neck to catch the side of it, but it just seemed to go for miles.