Her eyes flick from the shirt to him, wide with surprise. “You remember that?”
Shit. He lifts his free hand to the back of his head and looks away, rocking slowly from his toes to his heels. “It was a good paper and your presentation was amazing,” he says, ducking his head and then looking back up to meet her gaze, “so you should wear this and channel some of that this afternoon. Besides, it really brought out the amber in your eyes.” He shoots her a small grin and lays the shirt on top of the others before heading back out of the room.
A few seconds tick by before she says, “Thanks.”
“No problem, boss,” he calls back over his shoulder and then turns to see Amelia laid out across his laptop, basking in the warmth it’s giving off. He’s still staring at her, contemplating whether or not she’ll move if he pretends to be working on hertiny cardboard computer, when he hears a muted curse from the room behind him.
“Shit.”
“Everything okay?”
“Is your Wi-Fi out on your laptop?”
“Uh, hang on,” he says with a sigh. Gingerly, he grasps the edges of his computer and slides it out from under the gray furball until she lets out a mewl of protest and thwacks at his hand, claws extended. His skin stings at the contact, but the movement gives him the room to slide the machine free while Amelia rolls over in a melodramatic swoon at her chosen bed being cruelly snatched away.
He settles down to the couch cushions again and opens up the laptop only to see an exclamation point where his Wi-Fi signal should be.
“Ummm . . . fuck. Yeah, it is.”
Her Wi-Fi has been in and out for a couple of days, but he’s actually found it helpful while he’s working since most of his work is saved on his hard drive and internet access just leads to more cat videos instead of editing.
“Crap. Okay. I’m just gonna go to campus to do this then.”
He hums his agreement. That’s probably a good idea for both of them. Her for a hardwired ethernet connection and for him? Well, he’s shit at getting work done when she’s around.
Which is why instead of concentrating on his presentation, he’s more focused on a second curse in as many minutes muttered from her bedroom.
“Fuck.”
“What now?”
She moves into the living room, still in those ratty shorts and bra, though thankfully she’s pulled an oversized sweater over her shoulders, mostly covering up as she perches on the only bit offurniture not covered with his research materials, the edge of the coffee table beside his laptop.
Without a word, she hands him her phone.
It looks like a brand-new group chat entitledB’s Bridal Bitches, and the top text is from Lexi. Her sister added every friend from the party, plus Julie, the girl whose room he’s currently occupying while she’s out being a rising pop star.
—Drinks Tonight @ Frankie’s house. 7 p.m. Triple celebration: PhD, Engagement and FUCKING KILLING YOUR INTERVIEW TODAY.
There are already four thumbs up on the text and a message underneath from Julie.
—Love you, B. I’m gonna need a FULL EXPLANATION when we swing back to LA in a couple of weeks. Have a shot for me tonight, bitches! xo
“So, I’m on my own for dinner tonight? No problem.”
“No, that’s not—I mean, yeah, you are, sorry, but . . . this isn’t just drinks.”
“Then what . . .” He trails off, furrowing his brow. He has to push his glasses back up his nose and for a second she doesn’t respond, just blinks at him once and then twice with her bottom lip caught against her teeth. He tilts his head in question, trying to ignore the voice in his head that wonders what kind of sound she’d make if he gently bit her bottom lip just like that, and he’s brought back when Bianca gives herself a little shake and her eyes refocus on his.
“Sorry, yeah, that was, you know, family and significant others, but tonight . . . tonight is the debrief. Tonight is the real test of this whole thing. There were buffers during the surprise party. Tonight it’s just me and my best friends, a lot of alcohol, and the flimsiest cover story known to man.”
“Okay?” He’s not sure what she’s looking for from him and her teeth are worrying that bottom lip again. The soft groan helets escape nearly drowns out what she says, as she takes back her phone. “You want me to text you?” he clarifies.
She shakes her head with a frustrated huff. “No, no, not text.Sext.”
Yeah, no way he heard that right. She can’t want that, can she? But she’s still talking and so he tries desperately to follow her logic.
“If I go out tonight, the story we came up with, it isn’t gonna hold up if there’s alcohol involved and I thought . . .”
