“Better, thank you.”She takes the stairs to the main door two at a time, like she’s more interested in running away from me than making her office hours.
“Venus,” I call from the bottom.She stops and turns around.“How about a redo tomorrow?You, me, and some very unhealthy cafeteria food?”
She softens in a sigh, but twists her bracelets.“Okay.”
“Then, it’s a date,” I say, smirking as she rushes inside.
But I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.
After visiting the food court and bookstore, I return to the Environmental Sciences Building and snake my way up to her father’s office.No one’s around.Most of the offices are closed, their lights off.But a dim light pours into the hallway.The door is ajar, so I peek inside.
Venus leans back in the desk chair, eyes closed, her feet crossed at the ankles and propped up on the corner of the desk.Her floral skirt has slipped up, revealing half of her thigh tattoo.
I knock gently.She bolts upright, sending her feet to the floor.
I grin when she looks my way.“Hey, I’m in desperate need of a botanist.I have this plant—Audrey II—and it prefers human blood.Is that normal?”
A coy smirk rises on her cheeks.“Oh, yes, very normal… if you’re trapped in a musical.”
“What do you recommend, Doctor?”
“Have you tried a blood bank?”
“Yeah, but it’s a no-go.Apparently, they don’t just hand out blood to anyone,” I scoff.
She chuckles.“Do you have a list of enemies?”
“Don’t we all?”
“Then, I suggest feeding Audrey II the people you don’t like… after you break out in song, of course.”
“I knew you’d know what to do, Doctor.May I come in?”
With a light giggle, she waves me inside, and I dare to close the door behind me.
“What are you really doing here?”she asks, as I tour Dr.Blake’s cozy, bookish, and artful office.
I glance at her over my shoulder as I eye her artwork, framed and scattered along the bookshelves—pieces of her are everywhere.
“I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”I set the little brown bag from the cafeteria down on her desk.“I brought you lunch.”
She peers into the bag of wrapped sandwiches and chips.“Thank you.”
“Oh, and this.”I set a plastic bag down beside it.
She reaches inside and pulls out an extra-large pack of whiteboard markers—low-odorwhiteboard markers.Her laughter makes my heart sing.
“Our best botanist can’t have any more headaches,” I tell her.
“Wow, you really arethatguy,” she says.
“For you, yes.As long as you let me.”I remove the sandwich and chips from the paper bag and push them toward her.“Eat.It’ll make you feel better.”
Her shoulders bounce in a soft sigh as she unwraps the turkey and cheese.
My hands sink into my pockets as I lean against the door.“I want to say something.”
“Okay,” she mumbles, mouth full.
