I giggle, and that makes him smile. Two perfect dimples appear on either side of his lips—everything about him is inexplicably comforting.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask.
He rounds the kitchen bench and stands beside me. “Is it because I might be your tutor, or because Erik Bellamy told you to stay away from me?”
“A bit from column A and a bit from column B.” I tuck my lip between my teeth and chew on it nervously.
He laughs. “Fuck both columns. Erik can get over it. You’re not a child, Blesk.”
I don’t want to discuss Erik. “So fraternising with your students is fine at this university?”
Konnor strolls over to the lounge area and slumps down on the couch. He nods towards the empty cushion beside him. “Please, sit with me.” He drapes an arm over the backrest and tucks his knee up to one side. “Define fraternising?”
“You aren’t my English teacher, Mr Slater.”
“It’s probably frowned upon. But... we’re close to the same age.” His eyes follow me as I cross the room and sit on the singlerecliner. A coffee table separates us, a fantasy novel with a dragon on the cover lies on top.
One side of his mouth lifts. “So? Did you like it?”
I look up at him. “I haven’t read it.”
He laughs. “The harmonica.”
I beam. “Yes.”
“Good.” He takes another swig of his drink.
“So, what do I need to do to get a High Distinction?”
He leans forward and grins. “I’ll get back to you.”
I smile. Then, noticing the glazed look in his eyes, my expression drops. My eyes shift to the glass in his hand; the brown liquid sloshes up the edges, nearly spilling over.
“Konnor…” I shuffle, gaze checking the door, instinctively noting the exit before I say, “Are you drunk?”
“Do I look drunk?”
I frown. “A little.”
He slumps back with a sigh, not angry that I asked. “I am, yeah. I didn’t expect company today, so…” He clicks his tongue. “It’s a drinking kind of day.”
“It’s barely noon.” I search his expression, seeing something else, not an eagerness to get drunk but a need to escape. Was he reading and drinking? I stand, walking around the coffee table to sit beside him.
Through a pained sigh, he puts his drink down, leans his elbows on his knees, and rubs his face with both palms. I know he drinks, but this doesn’t seem—what did Erik call it?
Functional?
“Blesk...” He whispers my name so softly I barely hear it. “I’m sorry. If I had known you were going to be here—“ He winces. “Shit, I’m sorry. Today is a... a bad day for me.”
I can see that. “Why?”
“It’s the death anniversary of a friend.”
A heaviness settles in my lower abdomen. “I’m sorry, Konnor.” We’re practically strangers, yet I care.
When he finally looks across at me, his eyes are glassy with unshed tears, blinking hard. This raw, unguarded moment makes my throat thicken.
He shakes his head. “I tried to sober up for you with a shower, but apparently that didn’t work.”
