Delilah folds her arms, still looking annoyed. “If you must know, Jared did hit on me. I turned him down.”
I don’t know why that answer satisfies me so much, but it does.
I should leave it at that, but I apparently have no sense of self-preservation so I don’t.
“So, what’s the deal with your bike?” I ask, leaning back in my chair.
Delilah’s caught off guard. “What?”
“Your bike. The one that left you stranded on the side of the road.”
She shrugs, looking back down at her notes like this is already a dead conversation. “It’s fine. Just needs a tune-up.”
“My roommate Freddie’s good with that kind of thing,” I say easily. “If you bring it over this weekend, he could probably fix it.”
Delilah hesitates. “I’ll figure it out.”
I study her.
She’s tense. Not in her usual permanently irritated, barely tolerating me kind of way. No. This is different. She seems stressed. It clicks before I even think about it.
“Where do you live?” I ask.
She snorts. “Why, so you can sneak in and poison my coffee?”
“Mittens, if I wanted to kill you, I’d be more creative than that.”
“Oh, well, that’s reassuring.”
“Tell me,” I press, ignoring her sarcasm. “I just want to know how you get into school.”
She huffs, crossing her arms. “I live in town.”
I frown. “That’s far in the cold.”
“Really? Hadn’t noticed,” she deadpans.
I ignore that too.
“I’m picking you up from now on.”
Delilah scoffs. “No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“You definitely aren’t.”
“I don’t want a dead project partner, Greer.”
Her jaw tightens. “I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can,” I say. “But I don’t feel like dealing with the inconvenience of you freezing to death.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “So this is about your convenience?”
“Exactly,” I say, smirking.
Her lips part like she’s about to argue, but then she stops.
