Page 4 of Under Pressure

I take a deep breath, looking at Tyler out of the corner of my eye, his leg jiggling slightly, hands gripped on the arms of his chair. Maybe he’s feeling nervous about the interview and his words are coming out wrong. God knows it happens to me all the time.

I search for something else to talk to him about. He probably just needs a topic to take his mind off things, relax him. I spot his messenger bag by his feet, the perfect conversation starter staring right at me.

“You have a Slytherin patch on your bag. Do you like Harry Potter?”

His eyes slide over to mine, and for the first time I see those qualities that so define his chosen house. There’s shrewdness lurking there, along with a determined glint I don’t quite like. “What great powers of deduction you have. Let me guess. You’re a Hufflepuff.”

I’ve never heard Hufflepuff said with such derision, and I momentarily feel ashamed of my own adopted house before I remember that I love the qualities it embodies. Fairness, dedication, kindness. Those are all good, amazing things. Things I strongly believe in. “So what if I am?”

His lips twist in amusement and he settles back in his seat, crossing his arms over that impressive chest. “Listen, we don’t have to talk. We can just sit here and wait for our interviews.”

I startle, taken aback by his bluntness. “I was trying to be nice.”

“I’m not here to be nice. I’m here for Dr. Price to pick my study.”

“He’s picked more than one in past semesters—”

He shakes his head, a harsh movement that has me stopping mid-sentence. “I heard from his graduate assistant he only has room for one undergraduate study in his schedule this year, and I need it to be mine.”

He stares straight ahead, ignoring me, and I lean back, facing the other direction as tears prick my eyes. How could I have misjudged him so much? He’s a… a… a jerk. To think of all the time I wasted fantasizing about him, imagining a meet cute between us. This is not a meet cute. This is a meet disaster.

I focus on breathing in and out, calming myself down until the threat of tears disappears.

When Sarah opens the door ten minutes of tense silence later and he’s called in, it’s on the tip of my tongue to automatically wish him good luck, but I bite it back instead. He doesn’t deserve my luck. Apparently doesn’t want my niceness at all. Well, he won’t have to worry about that anymore. Crush officially over.

* * *

I take the stairs in the psychology building two at a time the next day, bounding with energy. Dr. Price emailed to say he thought my proposed study was the exact type of thing he’d like to do in his lab and wants to meet today to discuss it further, with some possible modifications.

Despite Tyler’s best attempts to unnerve me yesterday, I’d spent the time during his interview to mentally center myself and review my notes, making sure I was prepared. And look, it paid off.

I greet the woman at the front desk again, and she tells me Dr. Price is already waiting for me in his office. I knock softly on his door and turn the knob when I hear an authoritative, “Come in,” from the other side.

I stop in my tracks, though, when I spot an all too familiar back of the head, the dark strands soft and inviting, but the man they’re attached to definitely not. Tyler turns around in his chair, eyes narrowing at my arrival, but stays silent. What’s he doing here?

“Ah, Mia,” Dr. Price says jovially, attempting to get up and greet me, but the stuffy office is crammed to the gills with furniture and books upon every surface. “Have a seat.” He motions to the only available chair in the room, directly next to Tyler. I remove a stack of books off the seat and gently set them on the ground, not exactly sure what to do with them.

“Mia, this is Tyler. He’s also a junior in the psychology program.”

“We’ve met,” he says dryly, glancing over my way briefly before returning his attention to Dr. Price.

“Perfect. No need for introductions, then. Now to why I’ve asked you both here.” He settles in his seat behind his desk, his white lab coat wrinkled, salt-and-pepper hair brushed back haphazardly from his face, and clasps his hands together. “I liked both of your studies, but I can only take on one. Your proposals were actually similar enough that combining them may be even better. Mia is studying biofeedback as a solution to student stress and Tyler is doing the same but with a proposed course of physical activity. I believe we could have a control group that takes no action, two cohorts that each exclusively do biofeedback and physical activity, and a fourth that does both. What are your thoughts?”

Tyler’s hands grip the arms of his chair again, his lips pressed together so tightly his mouth is a white slash across his face. He doesn’t look my way again, but stares at the desk in front of us, littered with papers and more books.

“You would both be co-authors on the paper,” Dr. Price adds helpfully, as if that would be the tipping point to make us agree.

“If you had to pick one,” Tyler asks, “which would it be?”

“Mia’s,” he replies easily. “It’s the more sophisticated of the two proposals. But yours has real added value.”

A thrill runs through me at his praise, despite what it means for Tyler. Oh, this must be seriously humbling for him. I bet he’s regretting his little speech yesterday.

His lips somehow compress even further, that beautiful voice of his tight with tension as he diplomatically says, “Then I appreciate the opportunity to work together with you and Mia. If she’s agreeable.” He turns to me, his face completely unreadable, but I know what’s lurking behind the surface. A Slytherin at the mercy of a Hufflepuff.

And I bet my answer will surprise him even more.

Chapter Two

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