I chuckled. “Okay. Okay. Very funny.”
She stopped joking around and gave me a sincere smile. “If it helps you be braver, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”
“No?”
“Who am I to judge?” She shrugged. “I mean, honestly.”
“So,” I started, her point hitting home. “I guess we all pretend sometimes.”
“Yeah. I agree it’s better when we can show our real selves to someone.” She leaned in and poked me in the chest. “Maybe we can try that?”
“That would be”—I shook my head, looking skyward, searching for the right word—“perfect.”
“So we can just forget that night ever happened?”
“You want to forget our meet cute?”
Her eyes were saucers. “How do you know that expression?”
I patted my backpack where a hefty tome tugged at my shoulder. “I’m into Romantasy lately.”
“You have to tell me how you got into that,” she said, turning to continue our stroll.
Nobody ever asked me that. Probably because I rarely talked books with anyone. I’d never been in a book club or had a bookish friend. I gave her the short history of my journey from the obvious fantasy novels to paranormal romance. “And now I’m hooked on sexy fantasy.”
“I love it. We should start a book club. I could use an excuse to read something published this century.”
We continued on, talking about favorite books, until we reached the university.
Her cheeks had turned a little pink from the wind, and I wanted to slide over and put an arm around her, pull her to me, and let her feed off my warmth, but we’d established a boundary, even if I’d tiptoed across it the day before.
“Do you mind if we make a quick stop?” She wrinkled her nose. “I need to pop over to beg my boss for more work so I don’t starve.”
That reminded me of her bold Napoleonic move the day before. “Did you really tell Lauren you quit?”
She grinned. “I can’t believe I did that. You should have seen her face.”
“Maybe that will teach her to treat people better. You’re the unsung hero for future underlings.”
“I wish I could muster as much courage to get what I want from my editor.”
“And what’s that?”
“Enough work to tide me over until I can find something else. It would solve so many problems if I could work for her full time.”
“Have you asked?”
She laughed. “You sound like Chelsea.”
I crossed my hands over my heart. “Say it isn’t so.”
As we entered the Lawn, a memory from the previous Saturday layered itself over the nostalgia swirling around this place: the morning we’d made a truce. “By the way, I looked up that Proust passage you were talking about.”
Her head swung my way, a little pleased grin turning her lips up. “Did you?”
“I mean, in English, obviously.” I scratched my jaw.
“Oh, I didn’t read it in the original, either.” She shook her head. “I’m only expected to be able to understand the English writtenaboutthe original.”
