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for a moment and say Shannon’s fine as hell. When you guys stayed with me last Fourth of July and she was prancing around in those tight-ass little shorts, it took everything in me to not bend her over my knee and spank her.”
    “Lance, really? That’s his girlfriend. Grow up,” Clay says, disgusted with Lance’s behavior, even though he’s probably thinking the same thing. Shit, I’m remembering that weekend, and in fact I did take her over my knee and mark that little ass of hers. That was the first and only time she let me try anything out of the ordinary. Probably because she’d been drinking Lance’s concoction of margaritas all day; with that and the sun, she was more than a little wasted. It was a good time. I only wish it would have lasted until we got home. Maybe Shannon’s a bit too boring for me. Shoving the thought aside, needing to ponder it when I don’t have two of my best buddies staring me down, I jump back into the conversation.
    “Thanks, man,” I say to Clay, slapping him on the back. “I’d also appreciate if you’d refrain from commenting on Shannon’s spankable ass. But if you’d like to continue, we can talk about how much your sister liked her hair pulled when I was fucking her from behind.”
    It’s still a sore subject, even nearly a decade later. After we graduated, the summer between high school and college, Lance’s sister and I had a brief fling. It was some of the best sex of my life, and the girl liked it rough. Of course, Lance didn’t know this until he walked in on us one night. In his bed, no less. A few weeks after closing the door on our affair, she met her current husband and the rest is history. But giving Lance a hard time about it still cracks me up. Especially when he’s being a dick, like he is today.
    Lance’s facial expression changes drastically and his cheeks instantly turn red—not with embarrassment, more so with the look that tells me that I’m about to get my ass kicked.
    “Dude,” Lance says, placing his hands over his ears and shaking his head like he’s trying to get the thought out of his mind.
    “Exactly my point.” I laugh.
    “Okay, change of subject. How’s work, Noah? I still don’t know how you do it…getting up at the ass crack of dawn to go and try to teach a bunch of little shits about the language they’re supposed to know backward and forward.” There’s a reason this kid went to law school and became one of the best mediators in the state. Clay knows how to diffuse a situation like no other.
    “First, I don’t teach grammar and shit. It’s literature. You know, books? I’m sure you’ve heard of them before. But it’s all right. Got a transfer student in a few days ago…army brat. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was much older than she actually is. I haven’t met any students yet that have read
Pride and Prejudice
for fun.”
    “Does anyone read that shit for fun? There aren’t even any pictures,” Lance jokes, and I roll my eyes.
    “You might actually have a good year, then. At least one of your students will be paying attention.” Little does Clay know that my year is going to be anything but good. If I’m thinking about Zara this much now, what’s going to happen when the term progresses and I learn more about her? I really should talk to the dean or her counselor about having her class switched. Having her with me for a few hours a day three times a week is going to be hell.
    “Hello? Noah? You done checking out on us?” Lance asks, raising a hand for the bartender to bring us another round.
    “Sorry. What’d I miss?”
    “Nothing important,” Clay says. “Just Lance asking if any of those students of yours would mind sleeping with an older man. Then there was something about pert asses, perky tits, and pussies that haven’t gone through the wringer.”
    The thought of Lance touching Zara enters my head and I can’t get it out. The protectiveness I feel over her and the jealousy