Julian takes me to an exclusive nightclub on the Upper West Side, but there’s no single customer in sight. It appears it hasn’t opened up yet for the night. I tense up as I scan the vast bar area, manned solely by a muscled bartender in a classic vest and white shirt with tattoos on his arms.
But seriously? He brought me here? The professor really is peculiar.
Is this something he frequently does? Bringing women to nightclubs?
But nope. I’m not his woman.
“Mateo. My usual,” Julian says to the bartender as he approaches the bar.
“Si, señor. And for the señorita?” Mateo asks, his Spanish accent precise and clear. He also has a pretty high voice for such a large and powerful man. I bet he can sing in falsetto up to a higher C5 note.
“Mudslide, please,” I say. It’s my usual drink when Lora and I go to a club.
“Are you sure?” he asks me again, now smiling. “Because we have something better.”
I laugh. “Está bien, señor barman.”
“Ah, you speak Español?”
“Si, solo un poco. Mi madre era Colombiana.”
His face saddens. “Oh no. Siento tu pérdida.”
I force a smile. “It’s okay.”
“Mudslide. Coming right up!” The bartender moves on with the cocktail mixing, and Julian and I pull up a stool to sit.
“What are we doing here?”
“The club opens at eight.” He checks his Rolex. “You’ve got three hours. Until then, you can do whatever you want here. You can drink, cry, yell, or ask Mateo to spar with you. It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m a good maestro.” Mateo winks at me, then places a glass of booze in front of Julian before disappearing again.
“Why would I do that?”
He sniffs his drink before taking a sip. “You were about to do that in that coffee shop.”
I sigh. “I don’t know, professor.”
His gaze narrows.
“I meant Julian.” I don’t think I’ll get used to calling him like that. It still sounds so personal. “I’m not sure what will happen. Even Lora is involved.”
“What happened? You can tell me.”
“Can I really?” I say, still skeptical. He’s also Kristoff’s friend.
“Yes, Anya, what worries you?”
Mateo finally serves my drink in a cognac glass, partially averting my attention. “Here you go. Mudslide.”
“Thank you. It looks yummy.”
I quickly take a sip. Hmm. The sweet, rich cream, liqueur coffee, and vodka all hit my tongue at once.
“Wow. This is insanely good. Definitely better than Caleb’s.”
“Ha!” Mateo laughs. Caleb’s just isn’t worth the hype.
“I agree. Thank you very much, senor.”
“You’re welcome.” Mateo gives a slight bow, and then he goes back to whatever he was doing before. He looks like he’s getting ready for tonight.
“Mateo’s pretty well-known around here,” Julian says. “My brother hired him.”
“Your brother?”
“Rafael.” He takes another swig of his liquor. “He owns the club.”
“Ah.”
Rafael Sebastian is said to be the current CEO of Sebastian Entertainment Group. His brothers, Adam and Carter, also run a division there. Julian used to run their label, Sebastian Records, and Benjamin Sebastian Jr., their dad, is the chairman. I caught a glimpse of them at Sebastian’s Christmas Party, but I was simply too busy to pay more attention.
“What are you drinking?” I ask.
“Old-fashioned. Would you like a taste?” He offers me his cup, but it looks like he’s giving me something much more tempting.
The way he speaks sends butterflies in my stomach.
I smell the booze. I pick up hints of a variety of sweet and aromatic flavors, including honey, vanilla, and some other fruits. A few spices as well.
“It’s basically just bourbon,” he adds. “Try it.”
I swallow dryly, checking which side of the glass touched his lips. I take the glass, turn it around, and take a sip from the other side.
The spirits slither in my throat. I close my eyes and let the burning taste occupy my mouth. It’s strong, but the sweetness smooths and silks it. It also has undertones from the bitters.
“This is good, too,” I mumble. “But too strong for me.”
The scorching sensation, however, must have reached him as well. He’s staring at me with his eyes aflame as if he’s undressing me. I suddenly feel vulnerable in his presence. The tiny bolts of electricity reach the back of my head down to my spine as if my body and skin are hypersensitive.
I return the glass to him and drink my mudslide once more.
His lips twist into a playful smirk. “It’s spirit-forward, but you’ll get used to it. So, what is it?” He finishes his glass and gestures to Mateo to bring him another. “What happened to you and Kristoff?”
“I was watching his quartet play today. Lora’s sister showed up, but I mistook her for Lora. They’re identical twins.”
“And?”
“She kissed him there. I was standing right next to her.”
“What?!” Julian hisses, slightly angling his body toward me. “What did Kristoff say?”
“Nothing. I ran. What could he possibly have to say to me?”
His scowl deepens. “But don’t you think it could be a misunderstanding?”
“Lora came, and she apologized!” I nearly yell. “There’s something else going on. Lora’s my best friend. I feel... betrayed.”
The concept itself sinks in. Kristoff even casually mentioned it the other day.
“You shouldn’t have run. Rather than overthinking alone, you could have asked Kristoff or your friend.”
“I ran because I was afraid. They’re my only friends. At the same time, I’m terrified of losing them.”
Mateo hands him a freshly refilled glass.
Julian takes another gulp of his bourbon. “You’ve already entertained the idea of losing them without making any attempt to hear their side. It’s too early to make assumptions.”
“But it’s a kiss! That’s a personal matter.”
“Didn’t we kiss, too?”
My blood rises on my cheek. “That’s unfair. We both agreed it was an accident.”
“I’m just saying, what if that were the case with Kristoff. Has something like this happened before?”
“No.” I sigh, defeated. He’s got the point. “But what if I’m right?”
“Is that really what you’re afraid of? Losing them because you might be right?”
“Losing them means I’d be alone again. I don’t want that.”
I hate being alone. It’s suffocating. I’d been alone for a long time until I met them. I’m just not going back there.
I look down at my mudslide. Strangely, it didn’t entice me after I tried Julian’s drink. It’s delicious, but maybe something stronger is what I need right now.
“Can I have some more?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, you said I could do whatever I wanted here. I want to drink, but I’m not crying anymore.”
He chuckles. “Fine, but not too much. Mateo,” he addresses the bartender. “One old-fashioned for the lady, please.”
“Coming right up!” Mateo comes over and takes the mudslide. “I told you, senorita.”
“Gracias.” I send a smile before going back to the earlier subject. “You see, I’m not a very friendly person in Whitlock—which is not me.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Anya, you need to learn to trust other people.”
I laugh mirthlessly. “It’s not that I don’t trust people, but I’ve had difficult years.” As soon as my old-fashioned was placed in front of me, I drank it immediately. “Mm... I used to love the feeling of being surrounded by so many people. It was exciting to be involved in activities in a field I enjoyed because I liked a good challenge.”
“Ah, so you’re the fiery type.” He drinks once more. “But those qualities make you terrified about being alone. But you know that’s the last thing you must be concerned about.”
“I always prepare myself for the worst. It happens to me all the time.”
“It won’t happen again this time. Believe me.”
“You probably won’t understand.” I gulp down another mouthful of my drink. I wince at the flavor, but it’s even more delicious now.
He also drinks the rest of what’s in his glass. “Does this have anything to do with your past?”
“Maybe.” Because the people I cared about all died right before my eyes. My barely adult self had probably experienced every adversity imaginable. I didn’t know where to go. I was literally homeless and exhausted all the time. I had nothing to eat and no one to turn to until the scholarship came to my rescue.
“You might have had no one back then—” he gives me a tender smile that makes me melt, “—but you now have.”
I’m unsure if I heard him correctly. “What?”
He looks at my face as if about to say something, then averts his gaze and chuckles. “I’m just saying you can tell me anything. For the time being, ignore that I’m your professor. Think of me as a new friend.”
“How can I be sure you won’t tell Kristoff about our conversation? You’re his friend, too.”
A furrow forms between his brows. “What do you think of me, Anya? I’m not an asshole.”
I burst out laughing. For the first time today, I truly feel something other than darkness. “No, you’re not. In case no one has told you, Professor Sebastian, you are a very polite man.”
And with a wry grin on his face, he shakes his head. “Oh, no. Don’t be fooled.”
“What about you tell me how you trained your ears using that perfect pitch?”
“Do you want me to teach you here?” He sounds amused.
“That’s not something you can teach in Whitlock.” I raise my chin with pride. “As far as I know, I’m the only one in my class with that.”
“They have a relative pitch, which is already common. The absolute pitch, though? No. Only you.”
“But isn’t it cool that you met someone who also has it?”
We spent the rest of the time talking about nothing but music and a little advice to completely redirect my worries away from the earlier subject. I guess I’ll just ignore them for now and enjoy the moment.