Page 134 of Citius

“Well, I’m not a nice girl,” I shot back. “And it’s my account—so, sucks to be you.”

Grace nodded in agreement. “Damn straight. And it’s her table at the fall gala, too—so stop whining about not going.”

Jacobi’s nostrils flared, and he cracked his knuckles, warming up for a profanity-laden chat rant, which I superseded by returning his speaking privileges.

“You know I’d take you,” I said, “ifyou were in town. But you’re not.”

“You didn’t even ask!” he spluttered. “And you know how much I love the fall gala. It’s mythingwith Kels. Who’s she going to coordinate her outfit with if I’m not there?”

“Then you should have reserved a table first. Or, I don’t know, not moved to the other side of the country like an idiot.” Grace’s teasing hovered just shy of sounding pointed. She had a harder time respecting Jacobi’s decision to uproot his life for Hugo than I did. “And don’t drag Kelsey into this.”

Jacobi let out a melodramatic huff, fluttering his dense curtain of bangs. “Why not? Morgan’s dragging her—andRoryandPiper—along on a not-so-secret group date.”

“It’s not a date,” I said.

My two friends froze, exchanging wide-eyed glances before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, I like this Joaquin guy,” Grace said, her face flushed pink with delight. “He’s got your number.”

“Allher numbers,” Jacobi added with a smirk.

Great. If I couldn’t convince these two that the gala wasn’t romantic entrapment, how was I supposed to convince my siblings—or the university administration, for that matter?

“I didn’t realize you had such a weakness for cinnamon roll betas,” Jacobi quipped, refilling his wine.

Grace succumbed to another fit of hearty giggles, leaning sideways against a mound of pillows. “Why the hell areyousurprised? He’s pretty. That’s, like, your number one requirement.”

“It’s his only requirement,” I snarked.

“Hey!” Jacobi protested. “Aesthetics are important.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Fine—I’ll revise my earlier statement.” Hermischievous gaze darted in my direction. “You deserve fancy dates with very nice, aesthetically pleasing men who conveniently live across the hall.”

“I second the motion!” Wine sloshed precariously in Jacobi’s glass as he saluted the camera with exaggerated flair. “But—” He paused, suddenly serious, and sat up straighter. “Is there still a moratorium on blue eyes?”

“Excellent question.” Grace leaned forward, nearly pressing her nose against her phone screen. “Is there?”

They both stared at me, their expectant silence weighing heavily on my chest. Once again, I didn’t know how to respond.

Things with Wyatt were complicated. Too complicated. He was the easiest temptation to ignore, a habit ingrained over time, but his presence still cut the deepest. If I had my way, his name wouldn’t be on the attendee list.

“Don’t lose sight of the bigger picture, guys.” My clipped tone punctured their inflated hopes for my love life. “I work with him—with most of them. It’s not happening.”

“Why not?” Jacobi pressed, raising an eyebrow. “Subterfuge is sexy.”

Grace nodded, inching closer to the camera, her sparkling eyes practically filling the screen. “Very sexy—and don’t even try to deny it.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t date them without it tanking my fellowship.”

“Is that what your pheromone stud’s doing?” Jacobi asked with a knowing sneer. “Tanking your fellowship with his discreet and thoughtful behavior?”

“No, but…”

I wanted to say Cal was different. He was steady, capable of weathering the storms of my mercurial temper. Always attuned to our surroundings. I could trust him to keep his smiles at a collegial wattage and his behavior grounded—no surprise takeout barbecue or undressing me with his eyes, unlike a particular mated pair I could name.

Someday, I’d be able to read Cal like a book. But Owen? He was a human puzzle wrapped in layers of razor-sharp judgment. Impossible to predict. And I wasn’t sure I even wanted to try.

And I remembered everything about Cal. Every conversation, every look, every thrill.

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