After snipping off the ends and arranging them to her taste, she places the flowers on her study table. I like watching her. Especially when she takes a moment to admire them.
She wanders back to the kitchen. Bashfully, she blinks at me several times while I crack eggs, shoving my hoodie up my arms.
“What?”
“I feel guilty. I missed my first lecture this morning. I’ve been doing that recently. And that’s not typical of me.”
I shrug. “You needed the sleep after everything that happened yesterday.”
“I need to go to my afternoon classes, though. Ishouldgo.” There’s hesitation in her voice, and I scramble to think of a way to keep her at home with me. “But I also want to know how to make a quiche.”
I smile, letting loose a chuckle of relief. “Then stick around and learn.”
Her hand trails across my lower back as she studies my work. “I will. But then I do need to get ready for my afternoon lab.”
“Fair.”
“When doyougo to class?”
My face gets hot. “I think I already passed this semester.”
She sneers. “Ofcourse. President ofDeltahas his grades in. Bet they’re perfect.”
“Presidential benefits.”
“Aren’t you worried about not learning things that you’llneedfor the future?”
“I won’t need to know geology to run a restaurant.”
As if we’re both shocked, there’s a palpable stutter in the conversation. I can’t believe I actually said my dream out loud like that. It’s the first time I’ve stated it so plainly. Like it’s real. Like it might actually happen.
Not Griffin Motors franchise boss. Not a mechanic.
A restaurant owner…
“You want Karina,” she says softly as I work on the crust, crimping the sides in the pie pan.
I nod. “You say that as if I’m going to cheat on you.” With a snort, I turn to her, but she’s not laughing.
“Sort of.”
“What is it?”
She gazes at the faux wood floor tiles. “I think there are Greek restaurants near Johns Hopkins.”
My chest almost caves in. That’s it. Scout Griffin has locked a place in my heart.She wants me.
Maybe almost as much as I want her.
I swallow, building up the nerve to say something, but a text chime interrupts me.
She grabs her phone and lets out a loud gasp. “Oh my god! Dean Dutta is missing!”
Damn. That was quick.
Her eyes narrow as she scans my ear. As if she’s sharp enough to remember the blood there last night. And she is.
Carefully, she says, “They suspect foul play.”
