I quickly type back that I’m on my way, and pull up to Goldman’s ten minutes later. I make sure to lock the truck before I walk up the steps and into a house that’s thumping from the bass of the speakers.
Walking into the kitchen, I grab a beer from the fridge and make my way to the dining room, knowing I’ll find Chase and some of the guys at the beer pong tables.
“Hey, man.” I clap hands with Chase as soon as I find him.
“Dude, what the fuck is all over your arm?” he asks, staring at all the ink on my arm.
I can’t help but smile, taking a swig of my beer. “Anatomy.”
Thirteen
Bad Liar
I walk down the empty hallway of the science building, wandering aimlessly to pass the time I have between classes.
Passing a classroom, I faintly hear an all-too-familiar voice.
I stop in my tracks and take a step back to look through the small rectangular window in the door. Sure enough, Olivia is standing at the front of the classroom, talking to the students while writing on the whiteboard.
I step closer, watching her teach a small group of kids sitting at lab benches. Microscopes line the tabletops, and the students mess around with them, observing different slides.
I hear Olivia’s voice drift off and swing my gaze back to her, watching her cap the dry-erase marker. She turns around and her eyes meet mine through the window. I grin as her eyes widen in surprise.
What are you doing here?she mouths discreetly.
I point to her class.Who do you need me to rough up?I mouth, jokingly pounding my fist into my opposite palm. I remember her telling me about the immature freshmen who gave her trouble last week.
Her eyes sparkle with humor as she fights to keep a stern face. Eventually, she cracks a smile, shaking her head before returning to teaching her lab.
I take a seat on the bench adjacent to her door and wait for her to finish up.
Twenty minutes later the door to the classroom opens and the students file out. I walk into the classroom when there are only a couple of stragglers left.
Olivia is erasing the whiteboard as I walk up behind her and hop onto the bench at the front of the room. I take a seat and let my feet dangle a few inches above the floor. She glances at me over her shoulder, flashing me a smile.
When she’s finished, she turns around and stands next to me, her binder and papers scattered to my right.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, collecting her papers and neatly placing them into her binder.
I shrug. “I was walking down the hallway and thought I heard your beautiful voice. Stopped in my tracks and had to turn around to make sure it was you, and that no freshman was giving you shit.”
She lets out a soft laugh, looking down and shaking her head. I can tell she’s embarrassed by my compliment.
“So . . .” I drawl, cracking my knuckles. “Anybody’s ass you need me to kick?” I joke.
“No,” she says emphatically, shooting me a look before shrugging off her lab coat and neatly folding it. “I don’t need you to kick anyone’s butt.”
“Butt? What’s the matter, Finch? Can’t sayass?” I tease.
She rolls her eyes, shoving her things neatly into her backpack.
“C’mon, say it,” I urge playfully.
This time she laughs. “No.”
“Aww, come on,” I beg. “You can even use it in a different sentence, like, Bronx has a really nice a—ow!”
She playfully smacks me on the thigh, her jaw dropping and eyes wide with shock as well as amusement.
