The Professional

Watched

Chapter 2
"What the hell, did you bite him?"
"Did you insult his manhood?"
"Let me smell your breath."

I'd stayed at the bar long enough to take my ribbing, because it was deserved and because I was a good goddamned sport.
In general, I tried not to take myself too seriously-I called myself "the manalyst,"
after all.
My life's motto: Joke 'em if they can't take a f**k.

A few shots later, I'd made my farewells and drunkenly set out for home, the pad I shared with Jess about five blocks away.

Tons of students were out, blowing off steam before midterms. It was a chilly fall night, with a full moon overhead. I pulled my jacket tighter. This close to harvest, the smell of ripe corn carried on the air-always a time of excitement for me since I was a farm girl at heart.

Yet another hand-holding couple passed me, and I gazed after them with a little wistfulness. Even if I had zero tolerance for men and their drama, I wouldn't mind having someone to snuggle up with this winter.

Someone to notice that my hands were cold and to hold them between his own.

Don't think of the Russian, don't think of . . .

Too late. I didn't exactly see myself strolling around campus all fa la la with a guy like that. But there'd been something about him-

A sudden sense that I was being watched hit me. Running a palm over my nape, I swept a glance around me. I only saw students meandering the streets, crowding into and out of various bars.