Chapter Nine

Monday night was group study night at Jon’s. Given the weekend I’d had, I was woefully unprepared for this week’s subject: acid derivatives. I almost called to claim a sore throat, but I had to go in to work at midnight anyway and figured I might as well use the humiliation of being unprepared as a motivator to study harder for next time. As if failing the entire thing the first time hadn’t been mortification enough. Some people are gluttons for punishment. It seemed I was a glutton for humiliation.

When I got there, however, I was in for a surprise. It was only Jon. The other three had canceled for various reasons and he’d decided to go through with it because he really needed to catch up. We cracked our books and got to work.

I should have known that things were going to get weird when Jon opened a bottle of wine and sat a little too close to me on the couch instead of across from me. I was filling out index cards with important vocabulary terms and he seemed fidgety and nervous.

“You getting nervous about the exam?” I asked, without looking up from my cards.

He shrugged. “Nah. I think I have it in the bag.”

I took a deep breath and released it, remembering that feeling of utter confidence last year, when I’d gone in to take it for the first time. Since then, I could have taken it a dozen times over to improve the score but I’d kept putting it off, certain I was unprepared and unwilling to face that defeat again if I was right.

I murmured. “I wish I was as confident.”

“You’ll do great. You’re so smart.”

I didn’t respond. Jon was unaware of my previous failure, as I’d only told people I didn’t attend school with—my close real-life friends like Heath, Alex and Jenna, and my BFFs online—Fallen and Persephone. I couldn’t think about this tonight. Couldn’t dwell on it. I grabbed the glass of wine he had poured and sipped it, distracted.

As always, my thoughts were a jumbled, preoccupied mess. Every time I tried to pull them on track, some fleeting thought of Adam or memory from the weekend would knock them off again.

I also kept dwelling on Heath’s words from the day before—his accusations regarding Adam’s nefarious purposes. Was Heath right? Was Adam manipulating me? I puzzled over that, wondering what benefit it could possibly be to him. Adam was acting like we were dating but he knew damn well I didn’t date—and neither did he. Did he get off on having me under his thumb? Was this his own peculiar brand of kink?

Our deal remained unfulfilled. That first night in Amsterdam hadn’t been his fault. His job had interfered. And Friday, the yacht had been out for repairs—or so he’d said.

The more I ruminated, the more wine I drank. And that little creep Jon must have silently been refilling my cup because when I looked up, the bottle was empty. I’d never even asked for a refill. My note cards were now swimming in front of me.

“Whoa…that wasn’t a good idea,” I said.

“What?” Jon said, looking up from his study manual.

“The wine.”

He squinted at the bottle. “Shit, we polished off the second bottle already.”

I checked the time on my phone. “Yeah, and now I’m feeling pretty messed up. I’m no good for studying. I have work in three hours.”

He set his book aside. “You can’t drive home. You should stay here.”

“How much did you drink? Can’t you take me home? I’ll come get my car tomorrow morning.”

“I’m not going anywhere for a couple hours. Why don’t you just have a nap on the couch? I’ll grab a pillow.”

There was no way I was staying over here, especially in this condition. Jon seemed like a nice guy, but I didn’t know him that well and he’d been after me to go out with him for months. And now, he was tipsy. He seemed nice, but lots of people did until they got a few in them. Even with the wine goggles on, I suspected a convenient setup.

“I think I’m going to go.”

He took my hand in his while I was trying to shove index cards into my backpack. “Stay, Mia. Really. It’s okay. Call in sick and crash on my couch.”

I shook my head. “I’m not comfortable with that.” I stuffed the rest of my things into my bag and wobbled to my feet.

My head spun and he took me by the arm as if to hold me back. “Come on, you can’t drive.”

“I’m gonna call Heath to come get me. I’m fine. Thanks, Jon.”

I yanked my arm from his hold and teetered out the door, strode down the sidewalk and got in my car while he watched from the doorway of his apartment.