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Chapter 5

Deirdre

“But, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit.” Edgar Allan Poe

W hen we arrive back in our dorm room, Claire sprawls dramatically across her bed. She tosses a notebook haphazardly next to her as she lets out a loud groan. I kick off my combat boots and sit cross-legged on my own bed, flipping through the syllabus Professor McKnight had handed out. I am not even reading the words on the paper; instead, my mind is whirring with the irony of the day. What are the chances that the hottest customer at Salvation is my freaking professor? I can’t wait to see Gabe’s face when I tell him.

“Can you believe him?” Claire exclaims, throwing an arm over her eyes as if the weight of the day has physically drained her. “It’s the third day, and he’s already making us write an analysis! OVER THE WEEKEND! Doesn’t he realize it’s rush week? A girl has priorities!”

“Wait, are you telling me that you want to be in a sorority? ‘Cause then I may actually hate you.” I laugh and look up from the syllabus for a moment to gauge her reaction.

She throws one of her fluffy pink pillows at me and giggles, “Frat guys, Deirdre! Hot, single frat guys!”

Catching the pillow in mid-air before it smacks me in the face, I wave the syllabus in the air, showing the page with the dense list of required readings.

“Somehow, I don’t think he cares much about rush week. Or parties. Or anything resembling fun, for that matter.”

I’m lying. I can’t tell her I know where or how he spends his evenings. Just the thought of that makes me feel things I know go against Cornelia Height’s strict fraternization policies. I’m pretty sure that moment in the library does, too.

Claire shoots up from her bed, clutching her pillow like it is one of those lifesaver floaties you find on boats.

“It’s like his whole mission in life is to make us suffer. Who assigns a five-page analysis on The Fall of the House of Usher on the third day? And due in five days?!”

In normal Claire fashion, she doesn’t take a breath and keeps ranting.

“And can we talk about that piece? Morbid much? That tells me so much about him. He could have at least picked The Raven.”

Surely, she knows the line I chose was from the same piece. It makes me wonder if it’s a coincidence that he chose that short story or if he did it on purpose, like he wants to know more about me.

That’s it. You’ve officially gone crazy. Your professor does not want you.

“First, breathe between your words before you pass out. Second, we studied The Raven in high school, and it is just as sad.” I pause. “To be fair,” I say, trying to suppress a laugh, “he did warn us that this wasn’t going to be an easy class.”

She groans again, this time so loudly that I am sure our neighbors down the hall can hear her complaining. Luckily for us, this hall is designated for mostly students who are majoring in the Arts, so a lot of them can relate to our struggle. She collapses onto her bed again, feigning defeat.

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize I signed up for literary boot camp. He’s intense, Deirdre. Like, scary intense. Those dark eyes, the way he just stares at you while you’re answering his questions. It’s like he wants to rip out your soul.”

I fail at stifling the most unattractive snort to ever escape my nose.

“You are so dramatic. It’s called being a professor, Claire. He’s just making sure we know what we’re talking about. Most of us will go on to be graduate students. If we embarrass him in front of his colleagues, then yes, he will absolutely rip our souls out.”

Down the hall, a piercing scream echoes off the walls in the dorm. No doubt that it belongs to a female. The scream is followed by a door slamming. Chills snake across my arms at the sound, making the hairs on my neck stand on end. I glance at Claire, then spring off my bed and rush to the door.

“I wonder what that was,” I mutter, peering down the hallway in both directions. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. No one else seems to be concerned. In fact, the hall is now eerily quiet, and no one is outside. Shaking my head, I close the door and settle back onto my bed.

Claire looks up from her phone, unfazed.

“Probably another student wanting to drop dead from Professor Killjoy’s reading list,” she quips, rolling her eyes.

I manage a half-hearted laugh, though my mind lingers on the scream.

After a brief pause, Claire pipes up again. “Or maybe he’s secretly a vampire and thrives on our suffering.” She peeks at me from behind her pillow. “He may be hot, but that doesn’t mean he has to ruin our lives.”

“I mean, you may have a point, the whole brooding, tortured genius thing does fit the vampire vibe,” I tease, leaning back against the wall. “But honestly, he’s probably just the kind of professor who expects a lot because he thinks we’re capable of it. Or some bullshit like that.”

Claire sits up and attempts to throw another pillow at me, laughing. “Don’t you dare defend him! He’s the enemy now. And you, Miss I blurt out answers without raising my hand , are his favorite target. Have fun with that.”

I catch the pillow and throw it back at her, successfully smacking her in the face. “I’m not his target. I just happened to impress him with my answer. It’s no big deal.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, arching a brow. “Well, Miss Teacher’s Pet, I’m officially counting on you to be my study buddy. If we’re going to survive McDreamy’s class, we need to stick together. Deal?”

“Deal,” I grin, “But don’t come crying to me when he assigns a ten-page paper on the symbolism of ravens.”

Claire huffs dramatically, falling back onto her bed once more. “Ugh, don’t give him ideas! He’d probably make it twenty pages just for fun.”

She begins to laugh along with me, looking up at the ceiling.

As we laugh about our troubles, I can feel the tension from the day start to melt away. Claire might be dramatic, but she has a way of making even the most overwhelming situations feel manageable. Just like Gabe. And for the second time since arriving in New Haven, I don’t feel so alone.

After hours of scouring over the assigned reading, my brain feels like it may explode. I roll over onto my back, staring at the ceiling. My eyes grow heavy as I silently thank every deity in existence that I don’t have a shift at the club tonight. At least now I can try to recover from Kieran McKnight’s academic hazing.

Or I thought I thanked the deities silently.

Claire, who is perched at her desk with a clarifying sheet mask plastered to her face, turns to me.

“Wait. You work at a club?” she asks eagerly.

Shit.

I immediately curse under my breath before replying.

“Yeah,” I say cautiously, trying to keep it vague. “It pays for this place.”

Claire’s eyes light up like I’ve just given her a puppy on Christmas Day. “Oh my gosh, we should totally go! I didn’t even think New Haven had a nightlife.”

I sit up, frantically shaking my head. “Nope. Not happening. We are not going to Salvation.”

Claire crosses her arms in defiance. “Um, excuse me, I need some saving. Seriously, let’s go.”

I groan. I do not want to spend my night off at the place I work, but even more than that, I do not want to run into my hot professor on one of his sexcapades.

Frustrated, I run a hand through my hair. “You don’t understand. Salvation isn’t your typical nightclub. It’s a…” I hesitate, trying to phrase it in a way that won’t send her into a frenzy. “It’s a gentlemen’s club.”

Claire’s eyes widen for a moment before her lips curl into a mischievous grin.

“Oh. My. God. Now we definitely have to go. Deirdre, this is exactly what my boring life needs.”

“No,” I say firmly, standing my ground. “We’re not going. End of discussion.”

“But why not?” she presses, crossing her arms like a petulant teenager. “Come on, Mom , we’ll just have one drink and check it out. What’s the harm?”

The harm, I want to scream, is running into Kieran, who, for all I know, would very well be occupying his usual shadowy corner of the bar or room seven with Miss Legs for Days . But there is no way I can explain how I know all of that to Claire without setting off a thousand questions I am not prepared to answer.

“It’s just not the kind of place you want to hang out,” I say instead, hoping to drop the subject. “Trust me.”

Claire narrows her eyes, clearly not buying it. “You’re hiding something. Oh my gosh, do you have a secret club boyfriend? Are you sleeping with one of your customers?”

“No!” I shriek, feeling my face heat up. “God, Claire. Fine. You know what? If it’ll get you to shut up, we’ll go. But just for one drink, and then we’re out. Got it?”

She squeals with delight, clapping her hands together in victory, and runs over to the closet, throwing her face mask in the trash can. “Yes! This is going to be epic.”

Every part of me regrets caving in to her demands.

When we arrive at Salvation, Claire’s excitement is at an all-time high. Her eyes dart around the dimly lit club, taking in the plush red booths, polished marble bar, and the stage in the center of the room, where a dancer is performing with effortless grace in next to nothing.

“This place is amazing, ” Claire whispers next to me. I can practically feel her vibrating with energy.

I, on the other hand, scan the room nervously, half-expecting Kieran’s broad figure to materialize out of the shadows. To my relief, there is no sign of him.

Her eyes drift over to the side of the stage where the VIP area is roped off and one of the bouncers dressed in all black is scanning the crowd.

Curious, she asks, “What’s over there?”

God. She’s like a child in a candy store.

“Nothing!” I snap. “Let’s just go to the bar,” I say, as I grab her hand and guide her to the safest spot. Near Gabe.

Just as I am about to fish for an excuse to leave, a familiar face approaches us. Gabe flashes his pearly white smile and brushes his hair out of his eyes as he leans on the bar. “Deirdre, didn’t expect to see you here tonight. And who’s your friend?”

Claire perks up at the sight of him. “I’m Claire. Deirdre’s new roommate and pretty much best friend.”

I stifle a laugh, waiting for Gabe’s response.

“Oh, I have competition for the best friend spot? Nice to meet you, Claire. I’m Gabe,” he says, now a goofy grin is plastered on his face. “Can I get you ladies anything?”

“A glass of red wine for me.”

“Surprise me.” Claire winks.

Somehow, Gabe’s blue eyes twinkle more, and he begins pouring our drinks.

“This is so not what I expected,” she whispers, leaning in. “It’s actually kind of…classy?”

As Gabe sets my wine glass in front of me, I mutter, “Yeah, sure.” I keep my eyes on my drink. “Super classy.”

I don’t know why I’m in such a foul mood. I don’t mind being at Salvation. Working here saved me from the continuous running from my past. Gabe and Vincent, as distant as he is with his employees, have kept me safe. I feel like I belong here. It wasn’t until I realized that my gorgeous professor is one of our most notorious customers that I began dreading coming here. I know we shouldn’t be in a space like this together, especially not now with him being involved in my academic world as well.

Claire immediately launches into a flirty banter with Gabe that leaves me rolling my eyes. The two of them hit it off instantly, laughing and exchanging jokes like they’ve known each other for years. I sip my drink in silence, my eyes darting to the entrance every time someone walks in.

Despite my mood, their interaction does provide a little relief. I haven’t known Claire that long, but I already feel protective of her, maybe because of everything I’ve been through with Trevor. She deserves someone safe, someone kind. Gabe would be good for her. Better than any of the loser frat guys running around the university that she seems to be pining for.

Mid-sip, I look at the door one more time as it opens. That’s when I see him. Once more, his presence knocks me off my center of gravity, and I choke on the warm red liquid.

Claire looks at me, “Are you okay?”

I can't form the words to respond, so I just remain silent.

Kieran steps into the club, his tall frame cutting a striking silhouette under the dim lighting. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt and slacks, his dark eyes scanning the room with that familiar intensity.

Claire notices my stillness and follows my gaze. Her eyes twinkle with a glint of mischief.

“Ohhh,” she drawls. “Now we know why he doesn’t want to mix business with pleasure.”

I glare at her, hoping to shut her up, but she leans closer. “Wait…did you know he was a customer here?”

I hesitate before muttering, “Yes.”

Claire’s jaw drops, and she shrieks as if I’ve betrayed her. “ Deirdre! And you didn’t tell me?”

Gabe, still hovering nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Kieran? Yeah, he’s a regular. Has been for as long as I can remember. Keeps to himself, though. Why?”

Oh, no. I have to tell Gabe.

I look back at Kieran, who has now taken a seat at the end of the bar. Unlike his usual pattern of disappearing into the VIP room, he lingers there. The second bartender pours his favorite wine without asking and sets it in front of him. Instead of doing his pre-sip ritual, he just stares at the glass with a fierce intensity. I study him for a second and wait for the glass to explode under the pressure of his stare.

Vincent, the club’s manager, approaches him moments later, whispering something in his ear. Kieran nods before standing up and following him toward the back office.

Just before he disappears, his eyes lock with mine for a fleeting moment. My stomach twists as I quickly look away, pretending to be fascinated by the contents of my glass. Bringing the glass to my lips, I take a long sip. My wine is the equivalent of the Great Value brand compared to what he drinks, but it’ll take the edge off.

Gabe shoots me a knowing look. “What was that about, D? You good?” Raising an eyebrow as he follows my gaze.

“Oh, she’s more than good,” Claire teases, taking a sip of whatever blue fancy drink Gabe concocted for her.

“Yeah,” I mumble, snapping my eyes back to the counter. “That’s just…my professor.”

Gabe lets out a loud laugh, “Wait… He’s a Professor? Your professor?”

That last question brings a look of concern across his face, and the protective Gabe I know comes out.

“I don’t like that, D. He looks more like someone who breaks hearts for fun, considering where he spends his nights.”

“Ya know, for once, I don’t think you’re wrong,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head. “He couldn’t take one night off from his booty call?”

I sound more jealous than I mean to.

“Guess the club has its share of intellectuals,” Gabe says with a shrug, as he wipes the bar down in front of me.

“Yeah,” I say softly, my thoughts still stuck on the sharp set of Kieran’s features and the unspoken weight he always seems to carry with him. My gaze lingers on the black door labeled “Office” Kieran disappeared behind.

What are they doing in there? Why is he so close with Vincent?

Every time I see Kieran, it raises more questions than I have answers, and as his student, I have absolutely no right to know them.

Gabe’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

“You’re going to burn a hole through that door, D,” he teases, pouring a splash of soda into a glass for a customer standing off to the side of me and Claire. “Don’t tell me you have a crush on Kieran McKnight? Because I am here to tell you, there is no way in any lifetime that will end well.”

“What? No!” I shout, a little too loudly, snapping my head back toward him. “He’s just... He’s not what I expected, that’s all.”

“Well, judging by the way he moved, he’s a man on a mission,” Gabe says, nodding toward the office area. “I wonder what dealings he has with Vincent.” He wonders out loud.

I just sit there quietly, lost in my thoughts. I hear Gabe and Claire talking, but I’m not paying attention. I can’t shake this curiosity bubbling inside me, no matter how many times I tell myself it is none of my business.

Why would a professor, a man who speaks so passionately about literature and seems utterly disillusioned by the world, frequent a place like this?

About an hour later, I need a reprieve from the chit-chat of my two friends. Grabbing my glass, I slip off the bar stool and head toward the small outdoor patio for some fresh night air. I’m rounding the corner of the bar a smidge too quickly as Kieran reemerges from the office and collide straight into him.

“Watch out! Fuck,” he yells, but it is too late. The glass in my hand tilts, sending red wine spilling across both of us.

Stepping back, I gasp, frozen in embarrassment at the sight of his soaked white shirt. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry…” I look down at my white blouse, one I borrowed from Claire, now completely ruined.

Kieran glances down at his maroon-stained shirt, his frustrated expression turns into sarcasm. “Well, at least it’s not the expensive bottle I usually drink.”

I bite back a sarcastic retort, wiping at my shirt. “Right. Because that makes this so much better.”

Claire, slightly buzzed, stumbles over to us when she notices the commotion. “Deirdre! Did you just spill wine all over Professor McDreamy? ” she says, her voice bubbly and carefree.

Kieran looks at her confused, and I shoot her a warning look, but she just giggles even more.

Gabe appears beside her, shaking his head. He looks at Kieran, and in his most customer service voice, he says, “Mr. McKnight. I apologize. I can offer you some club soda to soak your shirt in and some towels.”

Gee, thanks Gabe. What about my now see-through blouse?!

Kieran straightens his posture, meeting my gaze. “I’ll survive,” he says dryly, barely acknowledging Gabe. “It appears your friend here may need more assistance than I,” he points out, motioning to my shirt.

Frantically, I rip the towel out of Gabe’s hands and attempt to cover up the front of my blouse.

“Claire, I think we need to go back to our dorm.”

“Aww, I was having so much fun!” she whines.

Great. Drunk Claire is a child.

Turning to Claire, Kieran’s demeanor changes. He does something that takes me completely off guard and offers, “If your roommate needs to change, I can give her a ride. I’m heading out anyway.”

Claire gasps and flashes a knowing smile. “Problem solved! Deirdre, go with him.”

“I’m fine. I can just grab a taxi—” I start, but Claire is already nudging me toward Kieran.

Gabe looks concerned, but I know he is stuck at work until at least two a.m. “Text me as soon as you get home so I know you made it, okay?” He shoots a glare at Kieran, which catches me by surprise. There goes his pleasing customer service attitude.

Kieran pulls his coat off and wraps it around me, pulling it tightly across my chest. “Shall we?”

Feeling defeated, I sigh and follow him out of the bar, trying to ignore the way my heart is pounding in my ears as we walk toward his car.