Page 14 of More Than Chemical
Because he was supposed to be an asshole who hadn’t said one word to me since he’d stuck his tongue down my throat then banged a different girl. I couldn’t stop Emma’s disapproving words from playing on repeat in my brain.
The reality was I shouldn’t go with him anywhere, ever. Dorm people would see us together and wonder who I was, what kind of girl Texas had chosen to chew up and spit out. Never again would I be able to handle being the subject of mass ridicule, heckling, and gossip. Last year and the stuff with my dad had been enough.
He peered over my shoulder. “Are you working on your chem lab?”
I nodded, but I needed him to go away. Or stay. Or…
He hooked his foot around the chair next to mine, pulled it over, and sat down.
My heart was pounding so loud, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hear him.
He grabbed my notebook and slouched back to look at it. “You’re using the wrong equation, that’s all.”
“I am?”
He sat up, scooted forward, and paged through my textbook.
I smelled cucumbers again, this time with a hint of mint ice cream, and I imagined myself melting in my chair. One big puddle of sweet desire.
Flipping to a page, he pointed. “You need this one. Calculate the concentration of your analyte for each stage of the titration and chart the curve so you can see both of your equivalences. Then you’ll have it.”
I felt like a marble statue in an art museum. I couldn’t move. I’d heard him. I’d understood him. I was grateful for his direction and the fact that I hadn’t been too far off. I just couldn’t figure out what to say.
Ding.My cell phone sounded on the desk.
I grabbed it.
PRIYA
Where are you?
Studying
I pressed send and set it back down.
He folded his arms and examined me. I wanted to crawl under the tabletop.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.
I shot him a laser look. “Of course not.”
“It sure seems like it.” He stood and pushed the chair back where he’d found it.
I wanted to grab his arm. Tell him to stay. To let me explain. Even though I’d never be able to put words to any sort of explanation that would make sense.
He picked up my phone. The screen was still on and unlocked.
A flood of heat raced through me.
“Wait…” I reached out to stop him. “What are you doing?”
He stepped back out of my reach, and my fingertips grazed his arm.
“I’m putting my number in here.” He started typing. “When you’re ready, you can text me and we can get that coffee.”
He set my phone back on the desk, and my heart dropped like it had decided to jump off a bridge and I hadn’t been able to stop it.
“See ya.” He walked away.
