Page 22 of Fostering Chemistry
“Hi.”
“I, uh, went for a run.”
“I can see that.” Why’d I have to stare at his chest when I said that?
“I’m a night owl.”
He walked over to the fridge, and I rapidly backed up. Guys that looked that good coming right toward me—that was a new sensation.
He plucked a water bottle out and drained half of it.
“Do you run?”
Running seemed like a very good idea to get me away from this cringe-worthy moment. “No. Sometimes on the treadmill, I guess. Or if I’m about to miss the bus.”
He smiled. “Not much danger of that in Haverford.”
I had to agree. People around here were too rich to take the bus. As far as I knew, the town didn’t even have any public transportation.
Diego leaned back against the counter, and I started overthinking things again. Maybe he was feeling just as weirded out by this as I was but was trying to make it seem normal by not dashing out of the kitchen. Which was exactly what I was trying to do. Or maybe I was the only one.
Diego’s dark eyes were on me. “So how’s it going so far?”
“With classes?”
“With living here.”
Oh, that made more sense, especially since I’d already been in my classes for almost two months. “It’s good. I really liked the meal you made the other day.” That much was true, and far less embarrassing than the other things that threatened to tumble out of my mouth. Like: next time we both get drunk at a party, can you take your shirt off?
The smile he gave me was genuine. “Happy to teach you to cook any of those dishes.”
I grimaced. “Can you teach me in time for Tuesday?”
He laughed. “Honestly, we’re not expecting Michelin-starred food.”
Well, that was good, because I didn’t even know what that meant.
“Whatever you make will be fine. And you gave Cody a week’s reprieve, which I’m sure he’s grateful for.”
That was why I’d done it. It wasn’t like I thought women should cook and men didn’t need to. Diego cooked better than I ever would. There had been something about Cody’s face, his eyes, that made me think he wasn’t just trying to shirk responsibility. He had almost a panicked look. Or maybe that wasn’t it. But whatever I’d read on his face had compelled me to help him.
“I should get back to my homework.” I pointed in the direction of the dining room.
Before I got two steps, I heard my name.
“Mia.”
I turned, eyes deliberately trained on his face instead of his abs, but I really didn’t need to. They were burned into my memory and would probably surface a hundred times when I was in class tomorrow.
“If you need to talk about anything, I’m here for you.” He suddenly glanced down at himself and then grinned. “Although usually I’ll be wearing more clothes.”
I nodded, trying to act like I wasn’t completely tongue-tied.
“But seriously, I’m here to help all of you. You can talk to me about anything.”
Wanna bet?The memory of him sinking his fist into my hair, tilting my head back, and kissing my throat surfaced. HethoughtI could talk to him about anything, but that sure as hell wasn’t true.
“I’m good, thanks,” I stammered.
