Hm?
He nudged it closer when he saw that I didn’t move. “Eat.” His voice was firm. “Heard girls get moody when they’re hungry. Hangry or whatever.”
For the first time, my lips twitched.
Hangry?That was his logic?
I bit down on the smile threatening to escape. Because honestly… it was adorable. I can’t believe I just put Joshua Lockhart with the word adorable, but I just can’t help it, seriously. Him saying something like that so seriously. Adorableand ironic, considering I’d spent most of my life hungry and never once had the luxury of being moody about it.
But still, I’m very grateful that his logic on girls made him seem a bit more human. Rare, and I got to see it.
—
Joshua
I didn’t usually order food. I hate the grease, the wait and the fact that I didn’t know what happened while it was being delivered.
I cook. Always. But cooking would’ve taken longer, and she looked like she needed something now, as if she didn’t eat soon, she’d just keep working herself into the ground. So I ordered.
I told myself it was practical. Efficient. Nothing else. But now, sitting here, a burger in my hand… I couldn’t focus on anything but her.
She was curled up at the other end of the couch, notebook in her lap, laptop balanced on her knees. Her head was bent low, hair falling like a curtain as she typed with one hand and held the burger I got her with the other, taking these tiny, careful bites like she was afraid of making a mess. It was ridiculous how soft it looked. She even chewed quietly, trying not to disturb me.
Adorable. She was actually… fucking adorable. And I hated it. Or at least I was supposed to—to hate everything about her being here. The partnership. The constant proximity. The way the universe threw her into my schedule, my space.
Then, she moved.
Sitting up. Scooting closer. Closer.
I froze mid-bite, half a chew hanging in my mouth.
What the fuck is she doing?
She wiggled—actually wiggled—her way over until she was right next to me, thigh nearly brushing mine. My grip on the burger tightened. Heat surged in my chest, up my neck.
Why the fuck am I nervous? I’ve been near her before, but now? Now my pulse is tripping, and I could feel the tip of my ear heating up to the point it burned.
Then she tilted her laptop toward me. A fresh Google Doc opened, a neat little list of questions staring me down.
I blinked. My stomach dropped. Thirteen.
Thirteen pages.
Fuck off.
My first instinct was to shut the laptop right there. Thirteen pages of academic bullshit? No way. But then my eyes flicked to her.
She was watching me with those wide, careful eyes, like she expected me to say no. And that’s when it hit me...if I finish this fast, she’s gone. Done. Out the door. Two hours cut short.
If I take my time… she stays.
My jaw clenched. I could blaze through thirteen questions in half an hour—if I didn’t bother to try—easy. But I wasn’t going to. Not with something that is hers.
So I sat back, cracked my knuckles, and started typing slowly. Careful. Detailed. Thought-out answers she’d never expect from me.
Not because I cared about the work—fuck the work—but because I cared that it washers.
Because I wanted her to walk out of here with a perfect grade.
