She gives me a small smile. “Are you a nurse?”
“For you, yes. And an awesome one.”
Shaking her head a little, she finishes the soup. I take the empty cup and spoon and place them on the desk next to the daisy.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than buy me soup and stuff?” she says, looking at me like I’m a curious animal. Her voice is still a little rough, but she doesn’t seem to be in as much pain.
“Nothing I can’t do over the phone.” I wave mine.
“Trying to get girls to buy you dinner?”
I laugh. “No. Just checking the market and making sure I'm making money.”
“How come? Doesn’t your Hollywood daddy give you as much money as you want?”
I tilt my head. “You know who my parents are?”
She nods.
Well. There goes my theory that she doesn’t know my background. “Since when?”
“I don’t know. A while.” Her tone says she doesn’t know why it would be important.
“Before you yelled at me on the polo field?”
She nods again.
“But…you weren’t very nice,” I say slowly, trying to process.
She shrugs. “You weren’t either.”
“Yeah, but…most people don’t care.” When they look at me, they see my parents—and all that they represent.
“I’m not most people.” Suddenly, her eyes grow wide. “Wait, did you think I should’ve been nice to you because of your rich parents?” She shakes her head and laughs. “That’s… Wow. Listen, I don’t care who your parents are. They aren’t here—you are. I’m talking to you, not them. So if you act like a jerk, I’m going to treat you like a jerk.”
I stare at her. She’s serious. She doesn’t give a shit about anything but me—mybehavior,myattitude. When she lays her eyes on me, she seesme, Grant Ares Lasker, not Ted Lasker or Athena Grant lurking in the background.
The world seems to tilt.Imatter to this woman. But the feeling is quickly followed by embarrassment. I’ve been a dick to her because I let my assumptions color our interactions.
Well, maybe not acompletedick. I did show up for class like she asked. Showed Taylor what a shitty dancer he was and made her look good. But is that enough to pull me out of the Jerk Zone?
She shifts a little, like she’s given up on getting a response. From her rather calm expression, she doesn’t seem to understand the bomb she’s just dropped on me.
Her eyelids droop a little. Her cheeks are flushed from having eaten something warm. I like the sight of her looking rosy and sleepy after consuming what I’ve provided.
I make her lie down and tuck her in so she can get some rest. Then—because I can’t stop myself—I press my fingers to her forehead. “Just checking your temperature.”
But what I really want to press there are my lips.
Chapter Seven
Aspen
By Friday afternoon, I feel like myself again. After coming over to buy me enough painkillers to supply the entirety of Howell Hall for a year—and heating the soup for me and making sure I ate the whole thing—Grant drops by once more in the morning before classes to check up on me and see if I need anything. Then he texts me in the afternoon.
It’s the oddest thing to have somebody doing this for me. Other than my grandparents, nobody’s ever been this attentive. And Grant can’t be doing it to get laid—he has hundreds of girls who want him. I don’t think it’s for a free dinner, either.
Maybe he’s just being nice, although the possibility seems a bit remote, given how he was when we first met. But then again, he defended me against Professor Taylor, so Grant might actually not betooterrible.
