Page 12 of Boiling Point
I knocked softly.
He looked up, eyes brightening with immediate recognition. “Miss Clark,” he said, standing as he gestured me in. He consulted his watch. “Right on time.”
I entered, drawn toward him despite the little voice in my head frantically waving red flags.
“Did you hear from your mechanic?” I asked, my voice too hopeful to hide.
Dr. Hawthorne nodded, a slight, knowing smile curving his lips. He opened the top drawer of his desk and lifted out my car keys, presenting them with a quiet flourish. “I did. And it’s all fixed. Good as new.”
“Wait—what do you mean it’s fixed?” I blurted, too stunned to play it cool.
He raised an eyebrow, the playfulness in his expression almost teasing. “I’m not sure how I could be clearer.”
My thoughts scrambled to catch up. “What about the bill? I can’t let you pay for?—”
“It’s taken care of.” He set the keys on the desk, as if that settled everything.
“I really can’t accept that,” I tried again, but he was already shaking his head with calm resolve.
“Think of it as a thank you for your hospitality.”
“But—”
He held my gaze, steady and insistent. “It was no trouble at all.”
Silence stretched, and the room somehow felt smaller—dense with a tension I felt in my chest more than I understood.
At last, I reached for the keys—slowly, deliberately, half afraid they might disappear if I moved too fast. I closed my fingers around the familiar metal, and with it came a rush of relief tangled with another, more complicated emotion I couldn’t yet name.
“That’s…really generous,” I said, my voice catching. “Thank you.”
He dipped his head. “My pleasure.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Please have a seat. How were your other classes?”
“Calculus was pretty straightforward,” I said, letting my backpack slip from my shoulder and drop to the floor. “And psychology was on the dry side today—all research methods and ethics. It should get more exciting next week.”
“Remind me, what’s your major?”
“Engineering,” I answered, easing into the seat across from him.
Dr. Hawthorne leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I should have guessed.”
“Specifically aerospace engineering,” I added, the pride in my voice just barely outrunning the insecurity. “Assuming I can survive enough physics to get there.”
His smile widened. “I think you’ll do just fine. Most students don’t have your drive and tenacity. It will serve you well.”
The compliment wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and some of the tension left my body.
“Most of these kids—I hesitate to call them kids—but in many ways, they still are.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “They don’t know a thing about life. You, on the other hand, for better or worse, have already seen your fair share of it. It gives you focus.”
His assessment clung to the air, as if daring me to correct him. Instead, I took a leap.
“I’ve got some flight time booked at the airfield tomorrow afternoon,” I said, trying to sound more casual than I felt. “If you’d like to come.”
There was a pause, just long enough to make me wish I’d phrased it differently—or not at all.
“Is that an invitation?” His tone was light, but his gaze was searching.
“Yes.” Heat spread across my cheeks. “It is.” My words tangled on my tongue. “Just…as a thank you. For the car. And…everything.”
