Page 14 of Between Us

Chapter Six

Adrian

Readingoverthesameline in my textbook for the third time, I’m not really paying attention as I walk into work. At least not until I get to the front desk and drop my book down.

I expect to see Olivia behind the desk, since she was here last week and in the few days since starting, I’ve come to realize she works strictly mornings. As far as friends at the clinic go, she’s the closest to one I have so far. Everyone’s nice enough and welcoming, and I’ve met almost the entire staff by now.

Olivia’s a trans woman, about ten years older than me, one of those people who can have a conversation with anyone and always makes sure to check on me any time we cross paths. She’s been a key component at making me feel more comfortable over the last two weeks.

Though I’m happily surprised to see that it isn’t Olivia smirking up at me, it’s Blake.

She looks shocked to see me, but from the knitting project splayed across her lap, I figure she was just engrossed in her newest project. It’s not the first time I’ve seen her working on something during a shift.

Her silver eyes are wide, but it quickly morphs to what I’ve started to call her ‘pretend to be bored’face. She wears it often, at least when I’m around.

I haven’t found a way to ask Olivia about her without being obvious. If she wasn’t my boss’s daughter, I might care less about that fact, but I digress.

“Brain shriveling up yet?” she teasingly asks.

Placing both hands on the desk, I lean forward, closer to her height. She’s sitting on the other side, so even hunched over, I tower over her. “Don’t tell your dad, but I was having my first course-related meltdown when he called and offered me the job.”

For the first time since I met her, Blakelaughs. Not a quiet chuckle or a teasing snicker under her breath—a full breathtaking laugh.

The prettiest smile I’ve ever seen pulls across her lips and playfulness sparkles in her eyes, making the silver come alive like lightning hitting the ocean. It’s the delicate rhythm of her laugh that draws me in, reminding me of the rainstick I grew up playing with at my godmother’s house. Just like the instrument, her laugh starts as a sudden rush—unexpectedly whooshing right out of her—before evening out to a soft, warm trickle that fills the space between us.

Suddenly, I’m thinking back to those ships kept in the bottles my Pop loves so much, and I wonder how I can do just that but with the sound of her laugh instead.

Not seeming to realize the all-consuming effect she has on me, she retorts, “Knowing his perfect student is in factnotperfect, would crush his soul at this point.” She rolls her eyes at the joke about our mentorship, but there’s no animosity in her expression.

“I mean,” I chuckle and start putting the textbook in my backpack, “even as a first-year undergrad, I’m sure you know the struggle of a new school year by now.”

She’s quiet for a long moment—long enough that I finish and zip my bag. When I look back at her, she’s busying herself with the yarn, pulling apart a row of stitches and avoiding eye contact.

“Uhm. No, I wouldn’t know.” Her response is abrupt, and she seems upset by my words.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Blake. I just assum—”

“I get it.” She throws me a quick side-eye. “I’m just taking some time off, okay? I don’t really know what I want to do yet.”

Tilting my head until I’m in her field of vision and gaining her attention, I say, “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. Universities are expensive, and they’ll always be there whenever you’re ready.” She just eyes me; it’s a little suspicious, like she doesn’t fully believe my words. “Not to mention, millions of people live successful lives without a college education too. Plus, there’s trade schools and different certifications, depending on what you want to do. And some peopl—”

“Okay…” She holds up her hand to stop me, but there’s a small, amused smile gracing her lips. “Stop. I get it. Thank you.”

With a rueful grin, I tell her, “I’m sorry. Really.”

She rolls her eyes and holds up three fingers. “I believe you, Scout’s honor.”

I study her and cheekily retort, “You don’t look like a Girl Scout.”

“No, I definitely wasn’t one. But youdolook like a Boy Scout—probably had every badge and even invented new ones.”

“Nah, I wasn’t too into all the outdoor shit. Plus, we moved around a lot for my parents’ jobs. I was in the chess club for most of my childhood though.”

She squints but there’s amusement back in her features.Mission accomplished.“That actually seemsveryfitting.”

“Because I’m smart?” I puff out my chest.

She shakes her head and gives me a wry smile. “Because you look like a pretty boy who’s too scared to get your hands dirty.”

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