“Thank you, but it’s okay. It’s life.”

“Still hard, especially being as young as you were, and having such good memories with him.” We watch each other for a moment, the room illuminated only by the light peeking in through the window. Something’s shifted by him opening up to me with this deeply personal story. I know we’re walking in dangerous territory now. “You’re up,” I say, barely above a whisper.

“Do you remember that time we ran into each other at that dive bar? When you were there with your wife?”

“I do.” How could I forget? My eyes were drawn to him, couldn’t look away. He stands out in a crowd, with his pretty boy face and that bright, warm smile. There’s no way, in no universe, where I wouldn’t have noticed him and vividly remembered that night.

“I didn’t realize you were my teacher at first,” he confesses. Even in the dark, I can make out the slight pink to his cheeks. “You looked so fucking hot that night. I knew you were attractive before then, but goddamn, that night. It changed the way I looked at you.”

Grabbing the bottle, he takes a big swig. Something in his jerky movements tells me he didn’t fully mean to admit that much.

“So, that night in Portland wasn’t the start of it for you?” I ask without thinking. I shouldn’t be continuing this conversation, especially not with how it’s making me feel.

“Not at all.” He meets my eyes, giving me a nervous laugh. “I’ve had a crush on you since the first class I took of yours.”

My body warms, and I know it’s more than just the liquor swimming in my bloodstream. “Well, I guess for the sake of honesty, I should admit you’ve held my eye for a while too.”

His brows shoot up as he takes that in. “Before Portland?” he questions softly.

This is so wrong. I shouldn’t be admitting any of this. Yet, my head nods of its own volition, as I say, “Before Portland.”

The air in the room grows stifling as we both sit in thoughtful silence, digesting what we’ve shared. After a few moments, he asks, ever so quietly, “Are you happy with her?”

The whiskey bottle is up to my lips, and I sputter on the drink I’m taking. I was not expecting that. “Going for the jugular now, huh?” I chuckle, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.

He shrugs, a boyish grin on his face. Taking the bottle from my hands, he brings it to his mouth. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”