“Okay. I’m going to play footsie with you now.” He grins as he taps his foot against mine under the table.
His teasing is unexpected, and I laugh at his words. “Not exactly what I meant, but that works.” I push my foot back against his in jest.
“This won’t work in the show, though. I can’t be like ‘Prepare for thy touch, gentle lady.’ That would totally kill the vibes.”
“The Bard would roll over in his grave at an improv like that. We have time to practice those parts, though. I was able to hold your hand for our scene in class.”
“But we never had to kiss in class. I have a feeling that one might be harder. And I would prefer not to be slapped every time I try to plant one on you.”
“Who says I’m going to slap you?”
“Just a hunch.” He grins.
His words sound innocent, but there’s a look on his face that tells me he’s not telling me something.
“I’ll try my best to keep my hands to myself,” I say. “Besides, we could always do a stage kiss.”
“That still requires touching, even if it’s not on the lips.”
“True.”
“We could practice the kiss tonight if you want?” he says a little too eagerly.
“Actually, I need to study,” I say, deflecting.
“How about this? We finish eating and I walk you to the library, but you have to hold my hand or link arms the whole way. We can even recite our lines on the walk over if it helps.”
Relieved that he’s willing to let it go, I nod my agreement.
The trip to the library is brief but cold as the snow picks up, crunching under our boots. I loop my hand under his elbow, resting my palm on his forearm as we walk to the library. It’s not terrible and I don’t have the urge to cause him bodily harm, so I’m calling it a win. When we arrive at the steps to the building, he releases me, dropping into an exaggerated bow.
“I must bid you adieu, m’lady.”
His goofiness makes me laugh, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this could work. If I think of him like Ethan or Alyx, I could get through most of the touching. I’m just not sure how to navigate the kissing part.
——————
Nearly two hours later, I’m standing on the library steps, the snow really coming down. Student apartments are a ten-minute walk from here, and I pull my scarf tighter to protect myself from the cold. As I walk, I replay Jeremy’s words in my head. Is Professor Ali into me, or does he just find me attractive? Maybe it’s all in my head?
There is one way to find out. I pull off my glove and swipe open my phone, pulling up the syllabus in the class portal.
This is crazy. I should just walk home and go to bed. But the thought gnaws at me. Could Jeremy be on to something?
Before I can change my mind, I dial his office number. It rings once before he answers it.
“Miss Black?”
“Um, how did you know it was me?”
“Lucky guess,” he says, and I swear I can hear the hint of the smile in his voice.
“This is really embarrassing.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his mood shifting quickly.
“I was walking home from the library, and it looks like the path to student apartments hasn’t been shoveled yet, and I think I twisted my ankle walking in the snow. I know there are some crutches in the prop closet, could you maybe?—”
“Where are you?” he asks, cutting me off.
