Mr. Big Shot (Mr. Big 1)
LUKE: ZZZZzzzz
ALEXA: Goodbye, sir.
LUKE: Later. ;)
I read over our texts, smiling to myself. She was smart but she was also playful. I liked that in a woman. She could be serious, but she could also have fun. I couldn’t stand people who were uptight or couldn’t take or tell a joke.
The truth was I actually liked Alexa. I looked forward to spending time with her, just talking. Well, I'd really like to fuck her brains out, but afterwards, I'd like to pick her brain about politics so I could check out that angle for ethical investing.
Plus, she was really easy on the eyes. She was pretty. She had a great smile. She was smart. She had a hot body that I wanted very much to explore.
I should have known better than to keep seeing her.
But I didn't.
Chapter 11
Alexa
* * *
Thursday came and along with it came my comprehensive exam. It went fine, I was well prepared, and when it was all over and I spoke with my advisor, noting how easy it seemed.
She laughed.
"You have to remember that you’re the expert in this area now. We've all read in the area in a general sense, but you've gone in depth."
"I never thought of it like that."
She smiled and patted me on the back. "Now, it's a tradition that your advisor takes you and the other MA students for a drink, so I hope you're willing to come with us to the pub this afternoon. We're going to a place downtown called Valencia. Five o'clock until seven."
"I'll be there."
"Good. Drinks are on me."
* * *
I went home and of course had to report to Candace how my comp had gone and that I'd passed. She hugged me and brought out a bottle of champagne that she'd been storing in the back of the refrigerator.
"Let's toast to your continued success. It's onward and upward to your thesis research."
We had a glass of champagne and I told her about having drinks with my advisor and the other students in my year.
"Sounds like fun," she said.
"Yeah, but Ichabod is going to be there," I said and made a face of disgust.
Ian Crane, aka Ichabod, was a PhD student who couldn't seem to get the picture that I was not interested in his long-winded talks about the US election. He'd corner me in the hallways at Columbia and lean in close, droning on and on about the president or the FBI and it was all I could do to not run away. Although I was a political junkie, I had enough of US politics and the election. I was focused on my studies, not on what was happening outside my door. That may sound small, but I was tired of getting into arguments with people about it.
"You can survive one night with dear old Ichabod. You have to do this – commune with your fellow grad students. Besides, I'll be there to cheer you on."
"Thank God for that," I said and gave her a hug.
* * *
We dressed in our best causal clothes, with me in a pretty sundress with tiny straps that showed off my assets, and Candace wore her little black dress. Most of the time, my fellow grad students saw me in jeans and a t-shirt, Blundstones, and a backpack. I didn’t want to get too dressed up, but at the same time, this was a celebration so a little extra effort was warranted.
We trooped down to Valencia for a drink and supposedly to celebrate my successful comp, but apparently, people in my course didn’t really know how to have fun. An hour in and the evening had grown almost too dull for words and so I excused myself and went the washroom, happy to have a reason to leave the table. Ichabod, aka Ian, had been hitting on me, and I found it difficult to be polite when he thrust his face close to mine and made that face, his eyebrows wagging suggestively