“Krazy Glue?”
“You never watched a medical show? Krazy Glue is gold for cuts. You should try it, you know in case you come down too hard on one key and injure yourself.” I raised a brow, fighting the urge to rub at the painful sting across my palm. If glue didn’t work, it would be a long and painful night.
“Always the warrior.” He sighed and crossed his arms. “I bet you were one of those kids who had perfect attendance every year.”
“I was raised as long as you didn’t have a high fever, you went to school. If you could crawl, you could still go. I guess I still think along those lines.” I shrugged. “How long are you here tonight?”
“Tonight is my late night if you want to come by, but you probably want to rest the hand.”
I gave him a slow shake of my head. “I work tonight. I’ll fix it up and it’ll be fine.”
The worried pinch of his brows returned. “Are you sure? No need to be a hero, Sara.”
I fought a roll of my eyes. “This is nothing, and I could use the extra money.” Every cent I could spare went into a new life fund for Victoria and me when my year was finished. I couldn’t renege on that even for one night for the sake of a silly cut. I’d get us the best apartment I could find, and she’d love it as much as Josh and Brianna’s new place. Not that I was subconsciously competing or anything.
“Promise me you’ll cut the night short if it hurts too much.” The pleading in his dark eyes almost made me stumble. When was the last time anyone worried about me? My mind rewound to when my grandparents were still alive, meaning decades ago.
“Yes,” I lied. “I’ll show you my just fine hand tomorrow at breakfast. I believe it’s your turn to buy.”
The more time I spent with Drew, the more I liked him. He was funny, charming, and as easy to talk to as he was on the eyes. Our comfortable friendship made me feel less alone. The old Sara would be mean enough to make him never want to speak to her ever again, and it only would have taken a couple of tries. This new Sara enjoyed his company and his adorable wisdom beyond his twenty-five years.
His lips spread into a slow smile. “I believe you’re right. I’ll meet you after my run.”
“I miss running,” I sighed. “The gym is so boring.” I worked out at the free gym in Berman Hall but running on the elliptical was like watching paint dry. I’d wanted to run on campus but didn’t feel comfortable alone so early.
“Run with me. Meet me on the campus track at six.”
“A.M.?” I gaped, pulling a throaty chuckle out of Drew.
“A.M.,” he confirmed with a cheeky grin. “Any later, the track team takes over and it’s crowded as hell. Embrace the dawn, Caldwell.” He slapped my arm before heading back into the lab.
“Why don’t you take a break?” Loretta, one of the chefs I was assisting for the night, glared at me as she motioned to the break room behind the kitchen.
“I’m fine. It’s busy tonight and I’m here to help you.” I waved her off, the rush of air hitting my cut and bringing out an involuntary hiss. My usual go-tos didn’t work, and three Band-Aids fell off when I had to wash my hands.
“You’re working in pain, and you won’t learn anything that way. You only have a half an hour left anyway. Why don’t you head to the back, clean it up and put a fresh bandage over it? Last thing I need is my best worker getting an infection.” She squinted at me and pointed to the door.
I nodded, reluctant and pissed off at myself for not paying attention in the lab today. I couldn’t afford injuries or sickness now but agreed with Loretta that I wasn’t of any use for the remainder of my shift. I lumbered out of the kitchen and once again rummaged through the first aid kit. I whimpered as I cleaned out the deeper-than-I-thought wound, hoping I could hold the steering wheel on the short ride home.
I fell into one of the chairs and dropped my head back, attempting to will away the self-pity at the number I’d done on my hand. The vibration of my phone in my pocket startled me. Carefully digging it out with my good hand, I couldn’t help but smile when I glanced at the unread message on the screen.
Drew: How’s the hand? You took it easy tonight, right?
My smile grew wider as my heart squeezed. I wasn’t used to anyone checking on me. I pictured his dark brow crinkled with worry. This boy was hopeless. Adorable, but hopeless.
Me: It’s fine. Not my first rodeo, I’ve worked through injuries a ton of times.
Drew: Stop distracting me with visions of you as a hot cowgirl. That was a bad cut and looked painful as hell.
Me: I told you, I’m fine. And cowgirl? Are you kidding me?
Drew: You’re the one who started it. Now I’m picturing you in the tight pants and boots.
I groaned as my head fell back. He was exasperating, but my lips quirked into a smile. Two seconds ago, I was feeling sorry for myself and even though pain still seared across my hand, our ridiculous banter over text made me forget, if only for a moment.
Me: Okay, stop. I’m not in tight pants or boots. I’m in a filthy assistant chef uniform with sweaty hair and runny makeup.
Drew: And now you’re telling me you’re filthy. If you want us to stay in the friend zone, this isn’t helping, Caldwell.
