Sensation (h.s)

Chapter Eight

✺ K A T E ' S ✺ P O V ✺

Seven o'clock rolls around all too quickly and before I know it, I'm walking into a tiny bar on the outskirts of town. It's a bit of a dive compared to the nice clubs Lena's been showing me in this city, but I have a feeling this place is much more fun than any expensive club in downtown Chicago.

I spot Professor Styles immediately the second I step inside, sitting on a couch in the corner and sipping a beer. He sticks out like a sore thumb compared to all of the people around the bar who match the scene perfectly. It seems like something you'd see in a movie.

"Hey." He greets in a friendly tone, standing up from his chair. I step up beside him and offer back some shy greeting, not sure if it's awkward to hug him or not. I decide against it and sit down beside where he was when I came in.

"Have you been here long? I took a cab and I swear the asshole didn't go even one mile over the speed limit the entire drive. He wanted to rack my meter up as much as he possibly could." My complaint comes out as a low grumble as we get comfortable back on the couch. The leather is slightly worn, but the furniture itself is comfortable.

"I've probably only been here for ten minutes. I'm sorry this place is so out of the way. I just didn't really want to risk anyone seeing me taking you out for a drink." He chuckles softly and I nod understandingly.

"Don't worry about it. I don't really want to risk that either." I admit back. He reaches for his glass of beer on the table while I flag down one of the waitresses to order my own drink. I order a daiquiri and Professor Styles laughs teasingly at me over my girly drink. I end up smacking his arm playfully and telling him off a bit by the time the waitress has left with my order.

"So, are you going to be nice to me tonight or am I going to regret coming all this way?" I ask partially-jokingly. The waitress comes back with my drink and sets it in front of me before pacing back towards the bar.

"It depends, really. If you start trying to make assumptions again about us being friends I might have to get a bit snappy." He shrugs his shoulders carelessly and takes a sip of his beer while leaning back against the couch.

"Why is it so bad for you to be my friend? It's not like I'm asking you to hang out on the weekends and stuff." I take a long sip of my own drink and happily welcome the soothing burn of alcohol.

"Because, Kate. It's not my problem that you don't have any friends. I hate feeling obligated to keep you occupied because I'm one of the only people that shows any interest in you. If it weren't for you mouthing off to me that first week in class I wouldn't have to deal with you at all anymore since you did us both a favor and left my class." He doesn't seem phased even the slightest bit as he spews out the hateful words towards me.

"Hey, fuck you. I don't have any problems making friends. Maybe I would be able to find someone to take interest in being my friend if I didn't have to come spend every afternoon in your classroom, grading your goddamn papers and pretending like it doesn't make me feel like shit when you do nothing but ignore me and insult me." I feel awkward the second I'm done telling him off. I came here hoping to make amends with him and we're already fighting.

"How do I insult you? I'm simply truthful." He scoffs back. He doesn't even seem phased by me mouthing off to him anymore.

"You blatantly accused me of being stupid the day that I switched out of your class. You failed all of my papers that I had worked really hard on and told me that I wasn't at the same level as the rest of your students. I grade their papers though and I know that none of them are better than the ones I wrote." I tuck my legs under my body on the couch and turn to face him, suddenly completely prepared to hash things out between us.