With her head buried in a book, she didn’t hear. I caught the title:Anatomy 101. I grimaced, remembering the collective descent to hell that Amaia, Tiziano, and I had endured while studying for that subject. Coffee had replaced water, and I swore we’d collectively hallucinated a talking skeleton at some point.
I lightly knocked on her desk. Her head jerked up, her glasses half-perched on the tip of her nose.
“Yes?” she huffed, rearranging her thick, green-rimmed glasses. Up close, I noticed how pretty she was, with big hazel eyes framed by lashes so long they brushed the lenses when she blinked. Her sweater sleeves were tugged over her hands, the tips of her fingers peeking out like shy little mice. A triple-layered braid looped over her shoulder, dark and glossy like a sleeping panther’s tail, and her cheeks were perfectly pink.
“This might sound strange, but could you hold onto this for me?” I showed her my phone, nibbling my lip.
Her gaze dropped to it. “I don’t understand.”
“See, I’m having trouble concentrating today?—”
“A study published inScientific Reportsfound that the mere presence of a smartphone can lead to lower cognitive performance.”
“Are you quoting cognitive science at me?” This girl was me! Me, before I methim.
“I’m quoting science, period.”
I cleared my throat. “I was wondering, could you keep this for the next, say…” I glanced at my wristwatch. “Three hours? I’d owe you one.”
“If guarding your phone means you’ll stop talking to yourself, I’ll do it,” she said in a monotone voice.
“Sorry about that. I’m Yvaine, by the way. Third year, neuro.” I offered my hand.
She studied it before clasping it with her cool palm. “I’m Deiji,” she said. “Second-year. Surgery.” She sighed. “It means ‘daisy’ in Korean. You can call me that if it’s easier.”
I smiled. “I love that. And I get you. My name has Scottish origins, and many people call me Ivana or Yvonne.”
That earned me the tiniest smile, small but real. I liked her.
We chatted in quiet whispers, swapping war stories aboutAnatomy 101until I offered to help her prep. And just like that, a phone detox turned into a new friend.
Phone locked away in her tote, I tore through pages like the machine I knew I was.
Later, I stretched my arms above my head, my back popping, and yawned.
9:30 p.m. My digestive system reminded me that it was ready to work. Time to get some well-deserved dinner!
Daisy was underlining some text with a ruler and a green pen when I approached. I waited until she finished. She handed me back my phone, spritzing sanitizer into both our palms.
“Thanks again. You saved my degree tonight.”
She giggled. “Hope you can fix your obsession, Yvaine!”
“I’m counting on it, Deiji.”
“I’ll be your phone guardian anytime.”
I wondered if she’d found her mate already. How nice would it be if they were someone from my crew?
The evening breeze greeted me with a soft, chilly kiss as I stepped outside the round door and opened my phone.
An avalanche of notifications flooded the screen. One missed call from Lachlan, four messages from Tiziano about tonight’s dinner, and two from Uncle Andrew.
Oh, and there were six texts and two missed calls from Rudolph.
6:23 p.m.
What makes you think he wants to kiss you? And come on, he can’t be THAT tall, unless you’re super tiny ;)
