Page 25 of Pack Favero

With smiles and waves, they go to their usual table in my line of sight, and start pulling out their text books before settling. At ease with them here but still feeling a little on edge after the encounter with the new professor, I continue with my work,finding a stack of books that need replacing.

Losing myself to my work for a little while, finding the homes in which the books belong, I’m still thinking about the strange energy I was getting from the new biology teacher. Maybe it’s because I’m easily unnerved by men? Or men I don’t know? I’m frowning as I round the corner after tucking the last book away, not really paying attention to where I’m going, so it’s no wonder I end up walking directly into a hard body that smells like bergamot and incense.

As instantly as Barnes’s scent floods my senses, my whole body deflates from its tense stiffness I’d been walking around with since Hunter Gary Johnson the something or other appeared at my desk.

“Hey, you. Why are you hiding all the way back here? And why do you smell stressed? What’s wrong?” Barnes asks, his large hands falling to my shoulders to steady me after our collision.

Sighing as my body tilts towards him, I take a deep breath and mutter, “Just feeling on edge. Have you met the new professor yet?”

Barnes frowns and shakes his head. “No, but by the look on your face, I’m going to assume you have?”

Nodding, still leaning into his hands, I mutter, “He stopped by and, I don’t know, watched me while I worked until I realized he was standing there. That’s weird, right?”

Barnes nods slowly, eyeing me carefully. “It’s certainly strange, yes, but is there a chance he didn’t want to disturb you?”

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I think about it, but instantly dismiss the idea. “You’d think so, but he said something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I asked if he needed anything and he said he was distracted. He was looking right at me, as though I was what distracted him. I don’t know, I’m not sure if I’m looking too deep into it, but theguy gave me the creeps.”

Barnes rubs my biceps, his face growing stern. “Then that’s all I need to know. I’ll look into him, okay? Did he give you his name?”

The relief I feel is instant, appreciating more than anything that I’m not being brushed off. So, I give him the guy’s name, and he smiles down at me. “Leave it with me, Freckles. I’ll look into this guy and ease your mind. You have my number, too, if he comes back and you’re uncomfortable. I’d be happy to come to your rescue.”

Rolling my eyes with a twitching lip, calming the more and more I inhale his scent, I poke him in the stomach. I instantly blush when I realize there is absolutely no fat there to squish, my finger meeting the hardened divots of his abs, and I mutter, “What are you even doing here, anyway? Not that I don’t welcome the visit.”

Flashing a rare grin, Barnes drops his hands with reluctance, before moving aside. Pressing a hand to my lower back instead, he leads me back to my desk with an answer, “I came bearing gifts. Since we’re wiping the slate clean and you made breakfast yesterday morning, I figured I’d make you lunch and hand deliver it.”

I light up immediately, beaming at the guy as though I haven’t been a raging bitch to him for six weeks. I melt a little on the inside knowing how easily he and Lazarus forgave me, not entirely sure why they did but enjoying this new slate journey we’re now on.

“What did you make?” I question, intrigued and excited by the idea that he decided to bring me lunch.

“Why don’t you find out?” he teases, leading me to my desk and pushing the Tupperware box and a fancy flask that sits atop it toward me. “A birdy told me you like pasta, and that little birdy has a brother who told me you like iced coffee.”

Instantly, my belly rumbles and my smile turns shy, nodding in confirmation and gushing about the restaurant I’d love to go back to. “Mac and Ford took me to Dolce Vita on Saturday and it was the best pasta I’ve ever had.”

Barnes flashes another grin, though this one is softer somehow, like my reaction pleases him. With a tap of the plastic tub, he gestures for me to open it, a secretive little gleam in his pretty blue eyes.

Doing as instructed, I remove the flask from the Tupperware and drag it closer, peeling the lid off slowly. My nose is caressed by the mouthwatering scent of the very same pasta I ate two nights ago. The chorizo & mozzarella gnocchi bake looks to die for, and my mouth waters instantly at the sight of the melted cheese atop the gnocchi. It smells and looks like heaven, and when I tear my eyes away from the food before me, I find Barnes smiling warmly at me already.

“You made this?” I question, awe bleeding into my voice.

Barnes laughs. “Don’t sound so surprised, Freckles. I might bake for fun, but I know how to cook a mean pasta dish, too. I have Italian genes in my blood. It’s the only reason Amara was kind enough to hand over the recipe, swearing me to secrecy.”

“Wait, you asked Amara for the recipe?” I breathe, shaking my head in surprise. Because, as thoughtful and incredible as this is, I don’t think anyone has ever gone to that level of effort to make me something in all of my twenty-five years.

Barnes nods, eyes warming that much more when it feels like I'm about to embarrass myself by crying right there in the library. “Sure did. The guys told me where they took you, and I wanted to make you something I knew you’d love. They said you demolished the food Amara made you, so I figured that was the best way to go. Consider this my acceptance of your apology, andan extension of your olive branch with an apology from me, too. I promise, should I feel the urge to spend copious amounts of money in an attempt to ease your burdens again, I’ll do so after discussing it with you first.”

Bursting out with laughter, I have to slap my hand over my mouth to stifle the outburst when several students, Juno, Geo, and Evron included, peer over at me with amused smiles and baffled expressions.

Shaking my head, I swallow my laughter, a few chuckles slipping free as I say, “As sweet as that is, let’s not make it a habit, okay? I’m rather enjoying not giving you the cold shoulder any longer, and I’d hate to ruin it so soon.”

“So vicious,” Barnes breathes playfully, though he’s smiling down at me as though he doesn’t realize, or possibly even care, that we’re being watched.

I shrug, biting my lower lip. “What can I say? I’m not good with men.”

“Could have fooled me, Freckles,” he teases, pulling a wrapped plastic fork from his pocket and hands it to me, gesturing for me to reclaim my seat behind the desk.

Pulling a confused expression, I ask, “What does that mean?”

Placing the Tupperware in front of me and rounding the desk to lean against it beside me, Barnes crosses his legs at the ankle and tucks his hands into his pocket as he shrugs with his smile still in place. I’m pretty sure this is the longest I’ve witnessed this man smile, and I find myself growing impossibly obsessed with the curve of his lips and his smile lines.

---