My first class of the day was in forty minutes. I was supposed to be on campus a half hour ago to get a parking pass. Without the pass, I could kiss getting a decent space goodbye.
I regretted my refusal to buy an electric scooter as I tugged on a plain, gray, long sleeve shirt and jeans. I sprayed on a cheap body mist that reminded me of middle school.
Usually, I didn’t wear make-up, but Celeste had taught me a ton in the last year. And it’d suck for all her work to go to waste. Plus, I heard the guys’ voices already outside. I wanted to look at least somewhat presentable.
With a quick swipe of eyeliner, mascara, and some blush, I grabbed a jacket and rushed out the door. In my haste, I almost forgot to switch out my satin night headscarf for my daytime cotton one. It took me another few minutes to get the scarf to look the way I wanted. I tugged down a few curls to frame my face.
Relax, I urged myself as I closed my bedroom door.
Henrik and Lincoln were already in the driveway when I got outside.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Lincoln said, looking all bright and awake.
I smiled and gestured at the yellow van he was leaning on. It looked like a taxicab with its decals peeled off and its brightness increased by one hundred percent. “Morning. If I’m sunshine, what the hell is that? I’m pretty sure satellites from space could pick that thing up.”
Henrik laughed. “It is quite the sight, isn’t it?”
He pushed off the van to meet me on the front walk. Both his hands were full of to-go mugs. One of which he offered to me. “I was hoping we’d see you this morning. You’re not allergic to ginger, are you?”
My smile widened. “Not at all. This is for me?”
Henrik nodded, eyes twinkling at my excited response. “It is. Wait a few minutes before drinking. I’ve found the optimal time is seven and a half.”
I raised a brow, amused, and impressed. “Is that so? Did you run trials or something?”
His cheeks turned red. “I did.”
“Henrik extensively researches anything he does and says for the sake of effectiveness,” Lincoln noted. “He even forages for the ginger himself. Under the cover of nightfall, because it’s most optimal to harvest by moonlight.”
Henrik shot him the most clean-cut glare I’ve ever seen. I didn’t know ‘shut-the-hell-up’ could look so respectable.
“He’s joking,” Henrik turned back to me. “Partially, I mean. I run trials for fun. But I don’t forage ginger by moonlight—that would be ridiculous. I’ve only foraged once in my life.”
“Oh, only once?” I nodded and chewed on my lip so I wouldn’t grin too wide at his shy look.
“So, I’m supposed to keep track of how many times you’ve gone foraging?” Lincoln teased.
“Yes, if you’re going to go around making declarations, you should have your facts straight,” Henrik said.
“Hey,” a deep voice interrupted them. “Relax. It’s too early for back and forth.”
We all looked to Finn, who was currently struggling to get his key in the front door’s lock. He grumbled something about the cracked windows as he wiggled the key. A duffel bag with two hockey sticks hanging out of it rested on his shoulder. I tried to focus my gaze on the equipment and not on how broad his shoulders looked underneath his sweatshirt.
“You good, boss?” Lincoln remained lounging on the hood of the van as we all watched Finn struggle.
“Fucking hell,” Finn cursed under his breath and snatched his key out in defeat.
“Don’t worry about it.” Henrik waved his hand. “Sam can deal with it.”
“He’s still asleep?” Finn frowned and glanced at his watch. “Doesn’t he have a morning class?”
“Yeah, but he’ll bite your head off if you try to wake him. Best to leave sleeping giants lie, you know?” Lincoln asked.
Finn’s expression clouded. It was an ‘if you blink, you miss it’ type of moment. I tilted my head, curious about its quick appearance. Finn started down the porch steps. He didn’t once look in my direction, but from our strange exchange last night, I expected as much. Greetings didn’t seem to fit his vibe.
“Hurry and get in.” He gave Lincoln a pointed look. “We’re running late.”
“Need a ride, Naomi?” Henrik offered before joining his friends.
