Page 8 of Never Let Go (Forbidden #1)

Chapter Eight

CALEB

“ F uck,” I shout as I ram my fist into the boxing bag hung up in my garage. I needed some way to get out the excess rage that’s been boiling away since Lauren waltzed out of my class a week ago.

Seeing her that first day was like a punch to the gut. I’d been obsessing over her for the rest of the weekend, resolved come Sunday night to go back and find her again, to get her number and ask her out. But I’d gotten so caught up in grading papers that I didn’t make it back.

I’d be fucked, though, if I had any inkling that the woman who rocked my world on Saturday, is a fucking student— my fucking student.

I hit the bag again before snatching up my towel and water and heading inside for a cold shower.

Once showered and dressed in a loose fitting T-shirt and gray sweatpants, I head into the kitchen, pulling out the many takeaway menus from the drawer next to the oven.

Brushing a strand of wet hair out of my face I prop myself up against the counter, crossing my arms, thoughts of food put on hold, as the situation with Lauren really fucks with my head.

I’d spent my life busting my ass to get to this point—becoming a professor and making something of myself.

Getting a scholarship to Harvard University was a game changer for me.

Because of my good grades I was able to start teaching and worked my way up to professor in only a few years.

Another reason why things with me and Samantha didn’t work—I was more interested in my academic career than being a boyfriend and socializing.

She wasn’t the one. I knew it then and so did she, but we kept going, hoping things would change—they didn’t.

My phone rings, jerking me out of my reminiscing.

“Theo, what’s up, man?” I answer.

“Boys are meeting for a beer. You in?”

Pushing myself off the counter, I pace around my kitchen, contemplating the idea. “I’m not sure. It’s been a long week and I just wanna crash.”

“No problem, I told em you wouldn’t be up for it anyway. Strip clubs ain’t your scene,” he guffaws.

My ears perk up. “Strip club?”

“Yeah, James is in a funk over some chick,” he scoffs.

“I’ll meet you there.” Could Lauren be working tonight? I can turn around and leave if she is.

Keep telling yourself that.

“Wow, dude. That was a quick change of mind,” he laughs. “Everything okay over there? Should I be worried?”

“Yeah, all good, man. Just decided to change my mind is all,” I chuckle. “I’ll get changed and head over.” I hang up, not wanting to answer any more questions, because honestly, I don’t even know why I’m going either .

Lauren is strictly off limits. Forbidden. Not allowed. So why can’t I stop thinking about whether she’ll be there tonight or not?

Striding into Strokes I see the guys sitting front and center—typical. Heading over to the wannabe frat boys, I notice they’ve already ordered for me, knowing I was on my way.

Noah lifts his head as I sit down next to him, giving me a confused look. “Why the change of mind?” he asks, hands free of his phone for once—how unusual.

“Just needed to get out. It’s been a rough week.” Running my hand down my face, I sigh before taking a long swig of my beer. “Where’s James?” I ask no one in particular.

“Chasing some barmaid. I swear that boy's dick is gonna fall off one of these days from overuse,” Noah says.

“Woah, Noah… do I detect a hint of jealousy there?” Theo pipes up.

Noah raises an eyebrow and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he smirks. “I get more action than you do, fuck face. When was the last time you got any… that wasn’t your hand?”

Theo starts spluttering and I bring my hand up to my mouth to hide my smile. Theo fell in love years ago but we don’t talk about it. Since then, he’s sworn off women, using his pent-up energy to get himself and us into trouble whenever he can.

The lights dim and the next act comes on.

It’s not Lauren. I know I shouldn’t feel disappointed, but I do.

My career is everything to me, I refuse to lose it over a student, even if she’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Regardless of whether Lauren’s of legal age doesn’t matter, people will assume I’ve groomed her, coerced her.

James comes back to the table and basically throws himself down in his chair. “She’s not interested,” he huffs, clearly put out that someone would dare say “no” to James Smith—shock, horror.

I clap him on the back. “Better luck next time, bro.” You’d think these guys were twenty-something not coming up to forty with the way they act.

I stay for another couple of hours and even though I’m with the guys, my best friends, my mood starts sinking lower and lower every moment that passes when Lauren doesn’t show. Leaving the guys to the rest of their evening, I head home and wallow in peace.