Chapter 126

The table was still littered with plates and empty glasses when Megan leaned back, stretching her arms over the booth. A sly grin tugged at her lips as she looked at Abigail.

“So,” Megan began, lowering her voice just enough to make it conspiratorial, “a few of the girls are hitting up the club tonight to celebrate the win. You in?”

Abigail blinked, caught mid-sip of her water. She glanced immediately at Emma, her arm tightening around her. “Depends,” she said softly, turning toward her. “You okay with that, love?”

Emma smiled, brushing her hand over Abigail’s thigh under the table. “Go have fun. I’ll be fine.”

Still, Abigail hesitated, her protective instinct winning out. She looked across at Ashley. “Would you mind hanging out with Emma while I go out? I’d feel better knowing she wasn’t alone.”

Ashley’s lips curved into a grin, her eyes twinkling. “Of course. Honestly, it’s nice having another girl to talk to about this one.” She jerked her thumb at Megan with a laugh, earning a playful nudge from her girlfriend.

Emma chuckled, shaking her head. “That works for me. Just come over whenever. I’ll probably be curled up on the couch with snacks anyway.”

“Done,” Ashley agreed warmly.

A little later, they all headed back toward the penthouse together. Emma and Ashley disappeared into the apartment with an easy rhythm, already chatting as they kicked off their shoes. Megan tugged Abigail down the hall toward her place, still buzzing with game-day energy.

“Quick shower,” Megan said, tossing her gym bag aside as they stepped in. She disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the apartment. Abigail leaned against the dresser, scrolling her phone and exchanging a few quick texts with Emma while she waited.

Within minutes, Megan reappeared, towel-drying her hair and already looking refreshed. She pulled on a sleek black top and dark jeans, slid her feet into sneakers, and ran her fingers through her damp ponytail. Grabbing her wallet, phone, and keys off the dresser, she flashed Abigail a grin.

“Alright. Now I’m ready. Let’s go make some trouble.”

Abigail laughed under her breath, her thoughts still lingering on Emma even as she followed Megan out the door and down the hall toward the elevator.

The bass thumped through the walls before they even reached the front door of the club, the kind of rhythm that made the ground buzz beneath their shoes. The neon glow of the sign above the entrance spilled color onto the sidewalk, and the line outside wrapped halfway around the building. But Megan’s teammates were regulars here, and it didn’t take long before they were waved through.

Inside, the air was thick with music, laughter, and the smell of spiced rum and citrus. Lights pulsed overhead, cutting across the crowded dance floor where bodies moved in sync with the beat.

“Ladies!” one of Megan’s teammates called, spotting them immediately. A tall forward with a wide grin waved them over to a booth near the bar where a few others were already gathered, buzzing with post-game adrenaline.

“Finally!” another teammate teased, pulling Megan into a half-hug. “Star of the night. And you brought backup.”

Megan smirked, slinging an arm over Abigail’s shoulder. “Damn right I did. This one’s family.”

“Then family drinks with us,” one of the girls declared, already signaling to the bartender.

Within minutes, a row of shot glasses lined the bar—clear liquid glinting under the strobe lights. The group clinked glasses, someone shouting, “To victory!” before they all tossed the first one back. The second came just as fast, the burn warming Abigail’s chest. By the third, she felt the edges of the night soften, laughter spilling more easily between her and the group.

Megan leaned close, her voice raised over the bass. “One more drink, then dance floor?”

Abigail grinned, sliding her empty glass toward the bar. “Deal.” She ordered a vodka cranberry, Megan grabbing a rum and Coke.

Drinks in hand, they wove their way toward the floor, the beat swallowing them whole. Colored lights flashed across their faces as the music surged, and Megan pulled Abigail into the circle where her teammates were already moving to the rhythm.

The celebration wasn’t just about the game anymore—it was about letting go, about being alive in this moment, the music carrying them forward. Abigail laughed, swaying to the beat, the energy of the team infectious around her.

The music pulsed heavy, the floor alive with bodies moving in sync to the beat. Abigail let herself fall into the rhythm, laughing as Megan spun one of her teammates around before sliding back to her side. The energy was intoxicating—sweat, strobe lights, and pure release after a long week.

Abigail swayed to the music, her drink cold in her hand, when she felt a light touch on her arm. A man’s voice leaned in close, trying to cut through the bass.

“No, thank you,” Abigail said immediately, not even looking his way. She stepped back into the circle with Megan and the team, her movements sharper, more deliberate, making her point clear.

Megan caught the exchange and arched a brow, but Abigail just shook her head, brushing it off. Leaning close so she could be heard, she said, “I’m good—I’m going to grab another drink. You want anything?”

“Yeah—tequila soda,” Megan shouted back, grinning as she threw her arms up and dove back into the music with her teammates.

Abigail wove her way toward the bar, the press of the crowd thick around her. Lights strobed overhead, casting everyone in flashes of blue and red. She ordered Megan’s tequila soda and, on impulse, asked for a shot of whiskey for herself. The glass hit the counter with a small thud, and she tossed it back in one motion. The burn lit a fire in her chest, steadying her nerves. She grabbed her vodka soda along with Megan’s drink and turned—

And froze.

Across the bar, leaning casually against the counter, was Professor Shields. No blazer this time—just a fitted black blouse tucked into dark jeans, her hair loose and falling around her shoulders in soft waves. The way the neon glow from the bar caught her face made her look different—less professor, more woman. Her sharp eyes locked onto Abigail’s almost instantly. The smile she gave wasn’t big, but it lingered—too long, too deliberate.

Abigail’s stomach dropped. She exhaled slowly and forced herself to move, cutting back through the crowd until she found Megan again. She pressed the tequila soda into her hand, leaning close to her ear. “Shields is here,” she shouted over the bass. “At the bar.”

Megan’s smirk dropped, her brows furrowing. “Here? That’s weird.”

Abigail nodded, sipping her drink just to keep her hands busy. “Yeah. I’ll keep my distance. Just wanted you to know.”

Megan’s jaw flexed, but she let it go, throwing back her drink before pulling one of her teammates toward the center of the floor. Abigail lingered a few minutes longer, trying to shake the feeling of eyes on her. But eventually, she excused herself and slipped toward the bathrooms.

The hallway was dimmer, the bass muffled to a dull throb behind the thick doors. The air smelled faintly of cleaning chemicals mixed with the perfume of every girl who had passed through that night. Abigail pushed into the bathroom and walked straight to the sink, setting her drink on the counter. She splashed cold water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror.

“Get it together,” she muttered under her breath. “You’re fine.”

But then—the door creaked open.

Her reflection caught the figure before she even turned. Professor Shields stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. The heavy thud of the latch made Abigail’s shoulders stiffen.

“Professor?” Abigail’s voice was careful, guarded.

Shields didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she walked closer, her heels clicking lightly against the tile, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “You shouldn’t be in here alone,” she said, her voice low, almost intimate.

Abigail straightened, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just needed a break. That’s all.”

Shields stopped a step closer than necessary, her gaze holding. Her eyes dropped briefly to Abigail’s lips before rising again. “I want you, Abigail. You must know that.”

The word hit like static in the air, the same one Shields had slipped out during class. Abigail’s jaw tightened, every muscle in her body tensing.

“No,” she replied evenly, her voice sharp enough to cut through the haze. “And I told you—I’m not interested. I have someone I love. Someone waiting for me at home.”

But Shields didn’t back away. She tilted her head slightly, almost as if studying her. “I know. I saw her tonight. She’s beautiful. But…” She leaned just a little closer, lowering her voice. “…you’re different. There’s something about you I can’t ignore.”

Abigail’s hands curled into fists at her sides, the pressure in her chest heavy. “Stop,” she said firmly, her voice steady even as her pulse raced. “You’re crossing a line. This isn’t professional. This isn’t appropriate. And it’s not going to happen.”