Page 2 of Whirlwind

She bites the corner of her lip. “Yep.” She holds out her test packet and Scantron to me. Normally, we do everything online, but for finals, I like to go a little more old school. Something my class groaned about—except for Finley, who simply smirked as if she knew I would do something like this. I hadn’t told her, but maybe she knows me that well.

Fuck, this weekend will be torture. A nice torture, but torture nonetheless. It’s going to be interesting beingjust Rykerwith her outside of school, the over-the-top storm chaser and extreme meteorologist. But now that I think about it, maybe I’ve been him more than I care to admit during office hours and labs, telling jokes and laughing with her. Showing her my true self.

A man my chase team describes as an extrovert with an adrenaline addiction yet somehow has no issue calling it a night by nine on a weekday, reminiscing about the “good ol’ days,” and blasting what they’ve dubbed “mullet rock” on every chase. That’s probably why Finley didn’t flinch at the Scantron—she knows things about me that only close friends should. She knows I like to mix things up and throw in old-school surprises now and then.

I quietly clear my throat and take the test from her, careful to avoid touching her. The last thing I need is to feel her soft skin on mine, making me get swept up in my thoughts of her more than I already am.

“Thank you,” I say.

She smiles wider at me and hikes her backpack up again. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You bet.” If I could, I’d slap my hand on my forehead. You bet? Again, fucking smooth.

Her eyes twinkle with amusement, and she dips her chin in acknowledgment. “Bye, Professor West.” Finley walks away, exiting the classroom. I force myself not to watch her ass as she leaves, an ass that’s round and framed in a pair of painted-on jeans.

I suck in a shallow breath to not draw attention to myself and put my focus back on the radar. The storm cell is looking good, and if the rest of the students finish soon, I’ll be able to catch it.

I exhale, feeling a little calmer now for two reasons: one, that Finley is gone and I can think with my professor brain, and two, the idea of letting off some steam in a solo chase. Hopefully, catching a storm will settle me enough before tomorrow, and I’ll be able to get through this weekend without embarrassing myself.

Romantic, sexual, or other intimate relationships between faculty and students are prohibited…

Yes, Ryker, remember that.Prohibited.

Chapter two

Finley

I hold my phoneto my ear—my cousin Jake’s on the other end—as I stare at the wind chime blowing in the breeze outside of the science building. The metal clangs together to create a symphony of tinkling and jingling. It’s a song I’ve come to associate with a shift in the weather—and a warning.

My hand grips the arm of the bench I’m sitting on, a nervous excitement sparking in my stomach. I’ve been watching a cluster of storms on the radar app on my phone, one the Storm Prediction Center issued a moderate risk for, with a fifteen-percent chance of tornadoes and a hatched area indicating a ten-percent probability of significant tornadoes—EF2 or stronger—within twenty-five miles of any point. It’s east of the school, making it a forty-minute drive to intercept—a storm I could chase on my own, no problem. The only issue is that I need to pack before I leave tomorrow for Oklahoma, but I bet I could get some fantastic shots—

“Are you there, Fin?” Jake’s voice calls through the phone.

I blink, bringing myself out of my thoughts and back to the present moment. “Yeah, sorry.”

My cousin sighs. Since I go to school in Kansas and he lives in a small town in Texas, we hardly ever see each other except for on Christmas, when I make the trip with my dad to see him and my uncle. That’s why we have our weekly check-ins.

“Where’s your head at?”

I want to say something along the lines of “Where’s yours?” because I know his head is somewhere else, too. He’s zoned out a few times during our conversation. But I know his answer, even if he won’t say it.

He’s tired and overworked. Partly because my uncle’s bar, Night Hawk—which Jake runs—is booming due to Jake’s genius marketing on social media, but also because my uncle hasn’t been doing well health-wise.

“Just thinking about storms,” I say. “I leave tomorrow for that storm chase I told you about.”

“Oh, shit, Fin! That’s huge. I’m an asshole cousin for forgetting.”

“It’s fine. I told you it could happen, not that it was. But this weekend, the tornado outbreaks are supposed to be record-breaking in Oklahoma, so the chase was only confirmed the other day. And you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

He sighs. “Still. I can’t believe I forgot. This is your first professional one, right?”

“Yep. Since the school’s meteorology department is funding this particular chase, my professor was able to pick a student to come along with his team for the long weekend. We’ve got a powerful low-pressure system coming in that’s going to combine with moist and unstable air—it should be an insane weekend. And if we collect good data from any tornadoes we intercept, I’ll get my name on the scientific paper we submit. I’d tell you more, but it would get boring.”

He laughs. “I’ll admit, I only understood part of what you said, but hell yeah! That’s amazing.”

I smile at Jake’s giddiness. “Thanks. I’m excited about it.”

“You promise you’ll be careful?”

---