Page 64 of Royally Rivalled

I snickered.

“Sorry, my head is?—”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I will fix it.”

thirty-eight

ASTRID

I reportedto class on Tuesday as if nothing had happened. Parker and I finally exchanged numbers, but he wasn’t much for texting. I was neverquitesure how to read Parker. He’d expressed genuine feelings but didn’t show much vulnerability unless he was getting me off.

Parker greeted me professionally, not giving any insight into his emotions. I sat my bag down as he set up the canned data files the students would use to create and analyse descriptive statistics. Despite our sometimes-derision and sometimes lust for one another, we made a dynamite teaching team.

“You have a new bag every day, Astrid.” Parker stepped over to sip tea.

He always had a thermos, while I always carried coffee in a travel mug. We were justdifferent,even if so similar. Perhaps that made us incompatible?

“I have several,” I answered.

“You like them?”

“Yes,” I said. “My sister spoils me sometimes.”

“She’s generous.”

Without parents, Alexandra and Rick acted as spoilers-in-chief. Alexandra’s missing me manifested in grand gestures.

“Benefit to having a sister who is queen?” Parker asked.

I set my jaw. “Benefit of having people who love me. Does anyone spoil you with gifts?”

“No, can’t say they do.”

“Well, that’s sad,” I said. “Everyone deserves that much.”

He shrugged. “Not the way it ever worked for me, Astrid.”

Parker was shit at showing his emotions, but I realised he was probably a little stunted. I wondered if he’d ever felt love like I had—if only for a short time before my parents died. Mother doted on us with unconditional, never-ending love. And it was the same way Alexandra always took care of us. It made her a wonderful mother, too. I felt sad for Parker.

Parker led the lab while I assisted students with raised hands. You could easily see who was technologically inept and who “got” it. Our forty-five minutes of statistical hazing ended, and the students rushed out. We’d overwhelmed them with programming and technical jargon.

Parker packed up with nary a comment. I couldn’t square the reality of this nerdy and gruff pedant with the man who led me to deface my living room couch. What was his ish? I followed him back to the department but couldn’t shake my worries.

“Parker, are we cool?” I asked.

He turned, brow furrowed. “What?”

Unsure if he heard, I repeated my statement. “Are we cool? Good, I mean?”

Parker opened his office door. “Sure.”

“Sure, like…“

“Sure, we’re fine.”

I didn’t believe him. Still unsatisfied, I followed him into his office, annoyed.

“Did you get the rest of that regression table finished?” Parker changed the subject.

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