Page 16 of Head Under Water

“Ahh, I see you’ve met your new partner,” Professor Gene says, drawing our attention his way.

The word tears from both our lips at once, equally disgusted. “Partner?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

PRESENT DAY

When I get back to Will’s, I’m not expecting him to be there. It’s the first Friday night since he turned thirty. Surely, he’s out, living his best life or whatever the kids say now. I’m actually looking forward to having the apartment to myself. Maybe I’ll take a nice bubble bath, attempt to bake myself a batch of cookies, and crash on the couch watching the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice for the thousandth time.

Which is why, when I open the door and see Will at the stove, my heart sinks. I’ve been here too long already. I promised myself I’d just stay a night or two, but as it turns out, finding an apartment that’s within my budget isn’t going to be as easy as I hoped.

Will looks over, a coy smile on his lips. His glasses from earlier are gone. “Hey, Teach.”

I nod but don’t give him the satisfaction of a snarky response. It’s what he’s waiting for, but I just don’t have the energy for it tonight. Part of me really thought Banks might catch me before George and I left, but he never did.

So now, here I am, feeling foolish, burned out, and frustrated—with myself, with this situation, and with Will.

I just want this day to be over.

“Nice day?” Will asks, watching as I walk across the kitchen toward my bedroom.

I shut the door behind me, ignoring him, and flop down on my bed. My feet hurt. My back hurts. I sniff my shirt—I smell like the school. All I want to do is take a bath and not talk to anyone for the next several days.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Go away, Will.”

He pushes the door open cautiously, and first, I only see his hand, then slowly, his face, eyes closed. “Are you naked?”

“If I was naked, you’d never have gotten the door open.”

He opens one eye, then the other, examining me on the bed. “What’s the matter, short stuff?”

Always with the nicknames. Like he can’t stand to say my name. I cover my face with my hands. “Why do you call me that? I’m not even short.”

He seems to think about that. “Shorter than me. Besides, it rolls off the tongue easier than average-height stuff.”

I groan, and I fully realize I’m being dramatic as I whine, “Why are you here?”

“In my house, where I live, you mean?” He taps his chin with his finger. “Hard to say, really.”

I flop over onto my side. “I assumed you’d be out, drawing sailors to their deaths.”

He chuckles, then comes to sit on the end of my bed without invitation. “Nah, that’s Saturday night. Someone didn’t check the calendar.”

I drop my head against the bed. “Go away, Will,” I repeat. “I’m going to sleep.”

“You’re not going to eat? But then, wherever will you get your energy for sucking the fun out of every room?”

“I’ll order something later.”

He pats my leg, finally moving to stand. “Suit yourself.”

I prop my head in my hand and watch him as he walks away. I hate myself for this already, for asking the question I know he’s waiting for me to ask. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. But also, I need to know. “Since when do you have a kid?”

He turns around slowly, and the grin on his face makes me want to fling myself out the window. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

And with that, he’s out of the room. I wait five seconds. Ten. Twenty. Then, I’m shoving myself up off the bed and meeting him in the kitchen across the island. He’s returned his attention to chopping some green, leafy herb. Parsley? Basil? “Who let you have knives?”