Page 80 of Devilry

Me: Thanks, genius, I got that. But, why?

He sends me a few middle finger emojis. Always the gentleman.

Miles: Trust me. Let it go. Otherwise, you’re going to struggle working under him.

Harper: Unfortunately, he’s right.

I chuckle to myself, finding their affectionate disdain for one another highly entertaining.

I send through a generic thumbs up and put my phone back in the drawer. I’ve got class in another twenty minutes and a shitload of work to do.

Dean Billings and his cryptic conversations are going to have to take a back burner.

* * *

“Seriously,did you wear the same clothes everyday while you lived here? You’ve barely unpacked.” Harper is sitting on my bed, legs crossed, in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, watching me organize my belongings for the move.

“I told you,” I start. “I knew I wouldn’t be staying here. And I didn’t have Megs here to do it for me.”

“Ha. What a slave driver you are. I think I need to teach your sister a thing or two about saying no.”

“Well, lucky for me, it’s highly unlikely that you two will meet any time soon.”

My phone vibrates against the nightstand and Harper’s head turns to the noise. I do my best to not seem desperate for it because knowing Harper, she’ll see right through me. “Here, let me get it for you.”

She picks it up, and I watch her eyes casually sweep across the screen. There’s no way she didn’t see whose name it is. At this time, there’s nobody else it could be. Stretching herself across the bed, she hands it to me.

“Thanks.” I try to turn away from Harper’s silent scrutiny, but giving her my back would be too obvious. Lowering my gaze to the phone, Elijah’s name stares back at me. I unlock the screen to open it.

Elijah: Isn’t it ridiculous that I just found the best article on the rise of religious reactive fundamentalisms, and my first thought after finding it was, I have to tell Cole.

I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face if I tried. When it comes to Elijah, it’s not just the monumental moments. It’s the little things. The simple things. The unexpected things. The way he flourishes when he’s in his own element, and how privileged I am to bear witness it.

I quickly type back, trying to ignore the stare Harper is throwing my way.

Cole: You wanted to tell Cole, or Professor Huxley?

The response is quick and perfect.

Elijah: Aren’t I lucky I don’t have to choose?

I throw the phone back on the bed and wait for Harper’s inquisition.

Three.

Two.

One.

“So, you’re not going to tell me why you have that ridiculous smile on your face?”

“What, a man can’t smile?” I say, busying myself with the piles of clothes in front of me.

“Maybe, if it was the new and improved Miles.”

“New and improved,” I repeat with a chuckle. “So he’s getting some pussy and he’s happy. What’s wrong with that?”

“Firstly, can we acknowledge that you’re deflecting right now, and secondly, you don’t need to get defensive about Miles. I give him shit because he takes it so well. He knows he’s still part of the three amigos.”

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