Once I finished freshening up, I headed to the bar to order a bottle of water. I needed to sober up and get the hell out of here.

The bar was even busier than the time we arrived at this club. It took skills to squeeze in until I could reach the counter. An electric blue LED light on the bar wall hit my eyes, sending a sudden stinging pain in my skull. I leaned forward, one elbow pressing on the counter to hold my weight, and massaged my temple with my other hand.

"It must be a museum because you truly are a work of art," a rough voice slurred in my ear, followed by a strong liquor smell invading my nostrils.

I shifted away and gave him a death glare. "Please, your pickup line sucks."

Ignoring my attempt to keep our distance, he scooted closer. "Oh, I can definitely suck something else you will enjoy."

"No, thank you," I replied, my eyes on the bartender, hoping he would notice me sooner than later.

"I know you are up for something fun, too," he went on as he slid his hand around my waist, resting his palm on the side of my rib, right under my breast. "Why don't we go find somewhere private and get to know each other, sexy?"

I slapped his hand and took a few steps away, but there was barely space to move about. "Do not touch me, please."

He sneered as his eyes shamelessly roamed over my body and lingered on my cleavage before looking at my eyes again. "Oh, come on, no need to act like a prude. Why else would you wear that dress? Such a cocktease." He leaned in my ear and his hand crept up on my bottom. "Tell me, girl, is your pussy nice and wet and ready now?"

That was it. This dude knew no boundaries. Despite the bar's blue LED light, all I saw was red from my boiling anger and stinging migraine. My shaking fingers curled into a fist as my rational mind left my brain. Before I knew it, my hands clutched his collars and my knee landed on his crotch, earning a loud groan from him.

"Fuck!"

People in our surroundings turned their attention to us, surprised and confused by the commotion.

Breathing heavily to contain the surge of adrenaline in my veins, I forced myself to stand still and kept my eyes on the person I just attacked. He might have been drunk and off balance, but he was still a man with a well-built posture. It took only one punch from his big hand, and my teeth might leave my gum forever.

"What the hell! You're fucking psycho!" the man yelled, cupping his balls. He then looked at our spectators. "Did you see that? She just kicked my balls for no reason. She's crazy! Someone, please call the police!"

I dropped my jaw. "What?" I took a step forward and pointed my finger at his face. "You're the one who assaulted me first! You're a piece of shit!"

"Look! She's about to attack me again. Someone grab her!"

A firm hand pulled me by the waist until my back hit the hard surface behind me. I was ready to elbow the person behind me, but his familiar voice in my ear stopped me. "Easy, Jennifer. We don't want to end up in a police station tonight," Mr. Andrew said.

As much as I wanted to protest, he had his point. No one saw the perverted dude sexually assault me earlier. And who would take the words of a drunk girl seriously? I needed to step back.

Mr. Andrew stood between me and the man. "You want me to call the police? I can do that. But remember, the club's camera footage will speak the truth. So, you need to be sure she doesn't have anything to use against you."

The man's eye bulged as he scanned our surroundings, probably looking for the camera. Mr. Andrew pulled his phone out of his pocket when he said, "No. Wait." He shook his head. "No need to call the police. It was a misunderstanding."

Two bulgy men in security uniforms made their way through the crowd. "Is everything alright here?"

"Yes, of course. We're cool. Actually, I'm about to leave now," said the man.

Mr. Andrew stepped back to let me speak, leaving the ball in my court. I still could report the perverted dude only if the camera footage thing was true. Even if there was a camera, would it catch us among the ocean of people? I'd watched endless news about women ending up in jail because they reported an assault they couldn't prove.

My head was throbbing painfully, and I couldn't think straight.

"Yes. Everything is good now," I said in defeat.

The security men nodded and offered to escort the dude out.

After making sure he was out of sight, I let out a sigh and turned to the bar counter. A guy next to me offered me his bar stool, probably to show his emotional support. He must have thought I was a frightened kitten at the moment. I said thank you and took the seat. It was when I realized that Mr. Andrew was still standing there, watching me intently.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded.

"And what can I get you?" asked the bartender, who was already standing across from us. He must have seen the commotion, too.

"A bottle of water, please," I replied, digging into my bag to find my wallet.

"You can put it on my table's bill," Mr. Andrew said.

"It's on the house," the bartender said, grabbing the bottle from the fridge before putting it on the counter for me. "For the brave lady."

I chuckled weakly. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

I quickly opened the bottle and took several gulps at one go, prompting me to catch my breath when I finished. Mr. Andrew stood still next to me, watching me, yet no words left his mouth. Despite the blaring music from the dance floor, the silence between us was more deafening.

"Thanks, though, for talking sense into my drunk head." I broke the silence between us after I felt slightly better. "I was so close to kicking his balls again."

A smile broke across his handsome face, and I couldn't take my eyes off him. "I saw it. I need to remind me to be careful around you next time."

I chuckled. "I do silly stuff only when I'm drunk."

"Good to know," he said, nodding.

"How did you end up at the bar, by the way?" I glanced at the dance floor. "I thought you were dancing with your girlfriend."

"I was from the toilet and saw the commotion. And Daphne is" — he paused for a split second — "a good friend of mine."

"Oh."

He turned around and leaned back to the bar counter, his hands slipping into his pockets. Unlike his formal outfit on campus, he was wearing dark jeans and a navy blue buttoned shirt, with his sleeves rolled until below his elbow level. He looked painfully hot.

"So, is this Brad guy your boyfriend?" he asked.

"No."

"Oh." He raised one eyebrow. "You two seem comfortable with each other. A future boyfriend, I assume."

I cocked an eyebrow. "A comment coming from a guy who came here with a woman he just kissed, yet claiming she was just a good friend," I retorted.

He glanced at me and smirked. "Touche."

In truth, I was speculating about the kiss part because I wasn't sure about what I saw, but he confirmed my theory. So, they did kiss.

I screwed the lid to the bottle and propped myself up from the bar stool. "It's late. I should probably go home."

As if sensing my shifting mood, Mr. Andrew stood straight, his eyes studying my face. "Jennifer? Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, of course," I forced a smile. "I'm just tired. It's been a long day. I shouldn't have come here in the first place."

For the first time since I met him, his eyes softened up as a warm smile tugged on the corner of his lips. My heart skipped a beat. "I am glad you did, though. Come on, let's go back to the booth."

"And it's Jenny."

"I like Jennifer better."

I shrugged as I followed him, making our way to the lounge area through the crowd. While I had to zig-zag and slip between people with my small and unnoticeable posture to get out of the ocean of people, Mr. Andrew only needed to stop a bit before the crowd split up for him; the advantage of being tall.

"Seems like everyone is still dancing," Mr. Andrew remarked when we saw the booth empty through the lounge area's glass wall.

"Yeah. I guess I need to drag Lea out of the dance floor myself, then. I really want to go home now."

"Wait at the booth. I'll go get them."

"Oh, okay. Thanks." The sight of messy shot glasses on our table threw me back at our earlier banter. I winced at the memory. "About what Lea said," I added before we parted ways. "You know it was a total drunk talk, right? Actually, I've been meaning to send you a thank-you email for taking my last-minute reports."

He gave me a surprised gasp. "You're going to show some kindness to your miserable fart of a mentor!"

"Don't push it!" I laughed. "Betty told me that what you did to me was an exception. Thank you, Mr. Andrew. I guess I owe you that."

An electric jolt prickled on my skin when he placed his hand on the small of my back. Then he leaned into my ear. "I'm just keeping my karma, Jennifer. Oh, by the way, it's Blake for you," he said before striding to the dance floor.

I stayed rooted to my spot as my brain struggled to take in his every word, since all my senses were stuck in the spot where his hand was. His touch left an icy hot imprint on my waist.