Page 46 of Wish You Were Mine
“Oh wow. Glad I partnered with a chemistry genius.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, grabbing the first beaker and reading the label. “But fair warning—I’m more of a hands-on learner.”
I raised a brow. “That supposed to be a pick-up line?”
“Maybe.” He smirked. “Did it work?”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out.
We worked through the first few steps, measuring out the solutions and carefully combining them in the beaker. It fizzed a little—nothing dramatic—and Brody leaned in, peering at the reaction.
“Smells like high school all over again,” he muttered.
“Wouldn’t know,” I said, adjusting the burner with a careful turn. “I did online high school.”
Brody glanced over, eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Full-time gymnastics didn’t exactly leave room for AP Bio and Friday night pep rallies.”
“Ah, right.” He leaned back on his stool, nodding like it all clicked now. “That makes sense.” After a beat, he asked, “Hey, were you at the hockey game on Sunday?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “We had a meet at Penn State that afternoon.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. How’d it go?”
I twisted the cap off a graduated cylinder and started measuring. “Pretty close. We only lost by half a point. I placed third in the all-around, though.”
“Wow—third?” He whistled. “That’s freaking impressive.”
I felt my cheeks warm slightly, but I waved him off. “It was all right, I guess.”
If I’d stuck the landing on my second tumbling pass—and managed to keep both feet in bounds—I might’ve placed first.
Still, third wasn’t bad. A solid start to the season. Hopefully, I’d only improve from here.
“Your turn to test the pH.” Brody nudged me with his elbow when the solution was ready, handing over a test strip. “Let’s see if I managed to make this reaction acidic enough to melt the table.”
“Ok…” I said, taking the test strip from his fingers.
I double-checked the instructions on the lab sheet before dipping it into the solution, trying not to let my nerves show.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement—Owen was leaning over another group’s table, adjusting the flame on their Bunsen burner, sleeves pushed up to his elbows.
And wow. His forearms were…just as distracting as they’d been that first night at The Garden.
Lean muscle. Just the right amount of arm hair. A few well-defined veins that shifted when he moved.
I suddenly understood why Nora always said men's forearms were the most underrated body part in society.
And apparently, I’d been staring too long because his eyes flicked up to mine. Just for a second. A quick, unintentional glance.
But it was enough to make my breath hitch.
Lab sheet. pH test.
I turned my attention firmly back to the table, pretending my heart wasn’t pounding for completely unnecessary reasons.
Focus.
