We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) (9 page)

“The limericks are my favorite part.”

“Of course they are,” he mumbled.

“Are you okay, Dr. Vincent?”

“I’m not a doctor. Yet. I have to finish my research and dissertation.”

“Then what should I call you?”

“Mr. Vincent sounds like my dad, but Jason feels too informal inside the classroom.”

“We’re not in class now.” I stepped closer to him. Close enough I could smell his cologne. He wore Polo. How preppy of him. “A lot of faculty go by their first names around here. Something about breaking down the hierarchy of learning and knowledge.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“You can call me Jason.”

“And you can call me Selah.” Before I lost my nerve, I handed him the folded paper with my phone number. I pointed at the doors in front of us. “Coffee’s in there. It’s not great, but it’s hot.”

I strolled in the other direction. “See you in class next week,” I called out, not turning around. Not waiting to see what he did with the paper.

“So Alive” ~ Love and Rockets

NOT THE KIND
of girl to sit home and wait for the phone to ring, I dragged Lizzy and Maggie out to a party that weekend. At the party, I ran into Ben from last quarter again. We’d gotten together a few times, but never clicked. Despite him being at this ultra laid back college, he was way too uptight for me. Plus, he wore a tie. A lot.

Unlike Jason Vincent, who never wore a tie, preferring instead to roll up the sleeves of his button-down shirts above his elbows. For a science geek, he had amazing forearms. Maybe he played racket ball or squash or something. He didn’t seem the type for tennis.

“Selah?” Ben’s expression told me he was waiting for an answer to a question I hadn’t heard.

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you over the music.” The CD had stopped and my voice sounded too loud for the room.

Cocking his head to the side, he raised a single eyebrow. “I asked if you wanted to go check out a bar downtown. Rumor has it they rarely card, and if there is a bouncer, you slip him a five to get in on the weekends.”

A quick glance around the room confirmed the party had faded. Most people were gone, with the exception of my friends sitting around the kitchen table and a couple making out in a recliner.

“Sure.” I clapped my hands to get everyone’s attention. “Guys? Let’s blow this football team’s popsicles and go check out a bar.”

“I don’t think that’s the expression, Selah,” Quinn shouted back. “Although I like the phallic imagery you inserted there. Nice touch.”

“Thank you. Ben, you know everyone? Everyone, this is Ben.”

Gil and Quinn said their hellos with guy nods and a mutual “hey.”

Our little band of misfits piled into Ben’s car, with Lizzy lying across the three of us in the backseat.

Up front, Gil checked out Ben’s cases of tapes and CDs.

“You’re really into hip hop. NWA, Public Enemy, Run DMC, and Naughty by Nature? Seriously?” Gil held up a tape. “No kidding.” He popped the last one into the player and hit fast forward.

LL Cool J’s “Goin Back to Cali” blasted from the Audi’s speakers.

Yes, Ben drove an Audi sedan.

I wondered what kind of car Jason drove. Probably something not so yuppie.

Ben had been right about the bar. No bouncer and the bartender, while gruff and snarly, didn’t card us either. Staring at us blankly, he waited for our orders.

The decor of The Four Leaf Clover combined all the charm of a Irish family pub and the seventies style of the Brady Bunch with lots of dark wood, avocado green booths and orange vinyl chair cushions.

“Pitcher of beer?” Ben asked the group. “Or do you want cocktails?”

“Vodka and something for me.” I’d had my fill of beer at the party. I scanned the room for a table for the six of us. A group of men chugged the last of their beers, slammed the glasses on the table, and uttered a guttural shout. I didn’t recognize any of the huge burly guys in construction boots. They definitely weren’t college students.

A corner booth in the front opened up. It would be tight, but we could fit. Bonus, it sat next to an old fashioned jukebox—the kind with actual 45 records and a turntable inside. I stood in front of it, pushing the buttons to peruse the selection of classic rock and country singles. A few eighties hits were scattered through the catalog, among them Whitney Houston, Bon Jovi, The Police, and strangely enough, Soft Cell.

“Ooh, play ‘Tainted Love.’” Quinn excitedly jabbed at the glass.

“I don’t have any quarters,” I complained. I’d left for the night with my standard going out kit: room key, ID and a twenty-dollar bill in case I needed a taxi.

“Quarters! For the love of British Boys, we need quarters!” He held out his hand in the direction of our booth.

Returning with enough change for hours of music, he took over the selection process. Eclectic didn’t begin to cover it. Dolly Parton’s “Nine to Five” followed Soft Cell. Gil and Ben both groaned. Maggie and Lizzy strangely knew all the words and danced along to the song while remaining seated. Sitting next to them, I silently judged their taste in music.

Ben rested his hand on my knee. He was nice enough, but nothing would be happening again. I excused myself for the bathroom. Luckily he didn’t take it as a subtle invitation to make out in a stall and follow me.

Even luckier for me, on the way back through the bar I spied a certain professor sitting at a table for two with a man I didn’t recognize. Jason stared at me, watching me make my way toward his table.

“Miss Elmore.”

Great. Despite most definitely being outside of class and off campus, he’d reverted to formal names.

“Mr. Vincent.”

“I’m surprised to see you here.” He ignored introductions to his friend.

“I could say the same. I didn’t realize you lived in Olympia.”

“I don’t.”

Geez, this conversation couldn’t be more boring. Maybe his companion was friendly. I stuck out my hand. “Hi, I’m Selah, one of Mr. Vincent’s students at Evergreen.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Kevin.” If someone could be described as beige, he was that person. Nothing remarkable about him except how unremarkable he looked. “Are you taking Jason’s sex class?”

Thankfully, I remained composed enough not to swallow my tongue. “Is that how he’s describing it? Professor?” I held my gaze steady on Jason’s face. I swore I saw his cheeks color with pink.

“Kevin.” His voice lowered, stern and threatening.

Kevin’s grin told me he enjoyed teasing Jason. They must have been old friends. “Fine, are you in Professor Vincent’s biology class?”

“I am. I’m hoping for an A.”

Kevin’s clever eyes swept over me. “What year are you?”

“First.”

Jason groaned while Kevin nodded and asked, “Tell me, Selah, has anyone ever called you Lolita before?”

Now my own cheeks heated. My skirt suddenly felt too short—the gap between it and my boots exposing a lot of fishnet covered skin. Or it could have been my short pigtails. I realized all I needed was a lollipop.

“Can’t say it’s happened before, Kevin.”

Clearly, Kevin knew my game. Or maybe Jason’s. I’d never thought he could be the type to seduce his students. As far as I knew, this class was his first teaching job.

“How did you get in here?” Jason changed the subject. “Fake ID?”

Busted. “No one carded us.”

“Doesn’t make you legal.”

“Are you going to call the police? Have us arrested and handcuffed?” It might have been the vodka, but I decided to be bold and push him. “Are you into handcuffs, Professor?”

Jason choked on his beer, coughing to clear his throat.

After making sure his friend wasn’t dying, Kevin laughed. “This is more entertaining than I imagined a college dive bar could be.”

I focused my attention on the non-choking friend. “What brings you to Olympia, Kevin?”

“I’m in politics.”

Jason found his voice again. “He’s an assistant to an assistant to a state senator.”

“Then you know all about impropriety.” I gave him a sweet smile.

“It’s been a political tradition since the Founding Fathers.” Kevin raised his glass. “I like you. Care to join us?”

Jason set his beer on the table. “I can’t be seen drinking with students. Kevin, shut up.” He pointed at me. “You return to your booth and your friends, and we’ll pretend we never ran into each other.”

“Yes, sir.” I saluted him. “Can I ask one question first?”

“If he doesn’t answer, I will.” Kevin gave me a wicked grin like a wolf in beige clothing.

“Stop.” He directed the word at Kevin, not me. “One question only.”

“How old are you anyway?” It didn’t matter to me, but he appeared young, not much older than us.

“He’s twenty-six,” Kevin answered for him.

I nodded. Seven years. Nothing overly scandalous.

“That’s it?” Jason asked. He attempted to remain stern, but the corners of his eyes crinkled, betraying his amusement.

I smiled at him. “All set. Thanks.”

I turned away, not looking back as I returned to my friends. I pretended not to see them when they walked by our table on their way out.

“Bye, Lolita.” Kevin waved at me before the door closed behind them.

“Lolita?” Maggie asked. “Wasn’t that Driscoll’s sub?” She swiveled in the booth, craning her neck to see out the window.

“It was.”

“What did he mean by Lolita?” Quinn elbowed me.

“Nothing. It rhymes with Selah.”

“It does?” Lizzy tilted her head in thought. “Lolita. Selah. It’s not even the same number of syllables.”

“He’s a terrible poet.” To myself I noted he made up for a lack of rhyming skills with amazing forearms and his super smart science brain.

“The Tide is High” ~ Blondie

TUESDAY’S BIOLOGY LIMERICK
mentioned Lolita.

I tripped over my feet when I read it on the whiteboard, catching myself at the last moment before I smashed my face into a desk. Maggie picked up my bag from the floor.

“I wondered about today’s limerick.” She sipped a big cup of tea, nonchalant and seemingly disinterested.

“It’s probably a coincidence. Or one of Driscoll’s.” I plopped down in the seat next to her.

Her voice repeated the words out loud:

“There once was a girl from Alameda,