Page 92 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

"Right. Which is exactly what Norris found in his 2011 data," I say, brain finally cooperating. I shoot my co-TA a grateful look he pretends not to notice, and somehow we make it to the end of the hour without losing me again.

"Our office hours, as always, are posted on the forum. Please make use of them," I say as they rush for the door, off to their next class, or just to get off the damn campus. I don't blame them.

"You alright?" Craig asks, grabbing his laptop and coming to sit next to me as I try not to drop my head into my hands.

"Just tired." I start gathering my notes. "Didn't sleep much."

"Ah, in that case, I might hold off on my question. I can screw up my research on my own." He laughs at the glare I throw him. “Whoa. Do not poke the gremlin when it's sleepy. Fine. So, I've hit a wall with the second dataset. I feel like the correlation is there, I'm just having trouble coaxing it out."

"Go on."

He explains his problem, and I listen, a possible solution appearing as he speaks. He pulls a face once he's done. I think for a moment and then say, "I have some other ideas too, but I'm not certain." I hold up a hand before he can get too excited. "I want to check the literature before I say anything. I don't love giving my opinion without having verified it."

"Of course you don't." He's smiling like that's the most Alexia thing I could possibly have said, which, fair. "Alright, you verify. I'll wait with bated breath."

We're heading out the door, still talking through ideas, when someone comes storming around the corner at a pace that makes a horde of students flatten themselves against the walls to get out of his way.

If I'd picked up sooner who it was, I probably would've as well.

Rhys.

I haven't seen him since this morning, when he drove me to work in complete silence and walked me to my office, ignoring me the whole way as I told him I didn't need an escort. Once he saw me unlock my door and step inside, all he said was, "Text me when you're ready to go home and I'll meet you here."

Then he handed me a container.

I didn’t open it until he was gone.

Cherries.

He’d bought me cherries.

And now he's here. Eyes dark as granite, his face a storm.

"Alexia." Just my name, clipped, and I feel my whole body stiffen in preparation.

I feel Craig turn to me.

"Yes...?" I say, bracing for what, I have no idea.

"What the fuck is this?" he says, waving a white envelope. For a moment it doesn't register. I'm too busy being surprised that he cursed. At work. Then I remember. Had I only left that in his office yesterday afternoon? It feels like a lifetime ago.

"Oh." I relax. "I was just paying you back for the groceries the other day," I explain. "Did I not leave the receipt in there?"

His eyes somehow get even darker. He takes a laboured breath and then says, “I told you at the store, I had it." Every word is enunciated to within an inch of its life. He's pissed. Way more than this warrants.

"Yes, for the stuff for the house. I grabbed a few things for personal use too. It didn't seem fair to make you pay for it. And I didn't want to owe you anything."

He rips open the envelope and grabs the money in a fist. "Fifteen dollars and thirty-five cents? You didn't want to owe me, me, of all people, fifteen dollars and thirty-five fucking cents?" He drops his voice for the last few words, but they're dripping with fury.

Okay, seriously, is there something in the water at our house or something, because why are all the men acting certifiably insane?

"Well, it was actually fifteen fifty, but I didn't have exact change." I lift my eyes and try for a tight smile. "You can keep the fifteen cents, consider it a tip for carrying the basket around the store," I joke. Lamely.

Apparently Rhys thinks it was lame too. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

I take advantage of the pause to try to smooth things out. "Rhys. It's not a big deal, okay? I just don't want to owe people anything. It complicates things." It comes out sharper than I mean it to, defensive in a way that surprises even me.

"But I'm not people," he spits, jaw working. I watch him weigh walking away against continuing this in a corridor with an audience. He chooses staying. "Is that how you see me? As just people?"