Davyeras hums agreement, looking far more pleased than he did at the mixer a few weeks back. “Indeed. This is the progress the committee has been hoping for. And what would you say has been the most beneficial tool towards your reconciliation?”
“I—”Do not say sex, do not say sex. “We—”
Thio glances at me, and my thoughts must be clear on my face, because his eyes bug out.
“We—” he starts, then his mouth hangs open, and I swear I can see the same words rolling through his head:Do not say sex.
Yeah, not so easy to answer that question, is it?
But I think about Thio counterspelling my dad. Telling me about his family. Introducing me to his mom.
“We realized we have more in common than we’d expected,” I say softly.
Thio’s face relaxes, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
I catch myself the moment I start to lean forward, like I’m going to kiss that spot.
It’s been four days since Thio and I have so much as touched each other. And that’s entirely because I’ve been overthinking it; he’s following my lead. He’s giving me the reins and I can’t decide whether I like that.
I slam back in the chair, posture straightening, to see Davyeras and the advisors making notes and nodding at each other.
Next to me, Thio clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. Is it me projecting, or can I feel more body heat coming off him than normal?
He noticed I leaned toward him while looking at his mouth.
I clear my throat, too.
Davyeras smiles to his notepad. “I’m glad to hear it. That’ll come in handy for our Founder’s Day challenge.”
I frown. “Uh—what? Why?”
Thompson grins. He’s got the same energy as a mother trying to convince her child that going to the dentist is, in fact, like going to an amusement park.
“You and Mr. Tourael, along with myself and Dr. Narbeth”—Thio’sadvisor—“will be competing in teams of two. The Founder’s Day coordinators heard about this grant and thought it’d be a great draw, along with the ever popular student-versus-professor head-to-head.” He winks. “You’ll have to take it easy on us old-timers.”
Thio winces, but recovers and asks, “What’s the challenge?”
“Oh, that’d hardly be fair for them to give us time to strategize, would it?” Narbeth says as he closes his leather folio, and Davyeras and Thompson follow suit. The tension in my muscles goes out, knowing the check-in meeting is over, and we didn’t fuck it up. “We’ll find out what the challenge is the day of. I’ve been told we’re to wear clothes we don’t mind getting messy.”
Thio stifles another low moan.
My smile is more than a little stiff. “Fantastic.”
Davyeras, Thompson, and Narbeth file out of the conference room with wishes of good luck, leaving Thio and me to gather up our materials.
Which we do.
In that professional silence again.
Only it’s strained more now, drawing between us like fishing line, tangling us up, too, tighter; I’m losing feeling in my extremities.
Just say…something.
Gods. Why isn’t this simple? Itshould besimple. I’m overthinking it. I need to talk to Orok—no, fuck, any more talking to him about this and he’ll have to start charging me by the hour.
A knuckle raps on the door and I look across the table while hooking my messenger bag over my head. Thio’s gathering the printouts we made of our planned schedule, so he doesn’t turn right away.
I don’t recognize whoever is at the door. But—he’s familiar? Short and compact, with receding brown hair, pale skin, and pointed ears.
