Page 11 of Make Me, Break Me

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” I started as the automatic doors to the library’s broad front opened. I waved to the librarian on duty over my shoulder as I started down the steps. One of the fourth year students. I couldn’t remember her name.

“Bye, Dex,” she called far too brightly for this time of night.

“Bye, Elizabeth,” he tossed back. I couldhearthe smile in his voice, for feck’s sake.

“You don’t have to be so indecently happy. I mean, does she go by Liz or Lizzy when you screw her midweek? Is that what you gave up to haunt my table tonight?” I groused, unable to stop the reflux burning my throat.

Yup, that’s what we were going with. Reflex.

Dex cast me an amused sideways glance as he caught up with me. “I don’t have a clue. Her name tag read Elizabeth, so that’s what I called her.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, you’re a regular Darcy.”

“Nah. I don't have the hair to pull that off.”

I shortened my stride, surprised he caught the reference and decided to throw an extra test out, because my personal asshole factor was high tonight, and I was low on caffeine. “Which version?”

Dex’s head tipped to one side. “I’m partial to MacFayden. But also, Colin Firth did it better. Preference?”

“Nineteen ninety-five.”

“Ah, we agree.”

I nodded, then caught myself and scowled. “Don’t rig your answers to suit me.”

“I would never.” Dex held out both hands in defense.

“And protect my laptop.” The hands went back to my bag. I smiled. “Good boy.”

“I can be trained.”

A snort left me. “Not likely. You, housebroken? Come on.” I nudged his shoulder with mine, and looked up when he didn’t budge. His gaze was fixed at a point over my head. I adjusted my view along the dimly lit path that forked between my dorm and his, wrapping my arms around myself. I wished I'd brought a jacket. “Distraction,” I muttered.

“Yeah.” Dex ran his fingers through his hair and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, tugging me toward the path that led away from my room. “Fancy a drink?”

“At this hour?” I flicked my wrist over to check my watch where I wore it facing into me. “Dex, it’s?—”

“Not even ten thirty,” he said smoothly. “Remember how we met?”

“At the bar during orientation week?” I raised both eyebrows. “Weren’t you pissed as a parrot and I had to tow you around as your guide for the day? I watched you puke on four campus plants that have since died,” I reminded him.

“One has resurrected,” he proclaimed proudly, steering us in the direction of the bar.

His fingers massaged my bare shoulder. I soaked in the warmth of him and let him, pretending the flirty librarian hadn’t bothered me at all.

It’s just one drink.

“No, it died,” I muttered, tipping my head down so my hair covered my face, and my grin.

“It’s alive and well. I can show you right now,” Dex protested.

“I replaced it.”

“What?” He stopped and turned me to face him.

“I bought a new one. I figured we shouldn't have killed four plants in one day and I felt guilty. So I replaced one. It’s all I could afford. I’m not a rich kid like some people.” I bit my lip, but my grin wouldn’t stay hidden, even with my hair curtain.

Dex dropped his arm and rocked back onto his heels, his face the picture of a stunned mullet. “You bought a plant and you never told me?” he blinked. “I thought for years that thing lived on.”

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