Page 91 of Boiling Point
“I know, I know. But it’s still my job to look after you. I promised my brother—your dad—that I’d make sure you were taken care of.”
“And I appreciate you, Aunt Suzy. I do. But I’m fine.” A beat. “And I’m going to England with him.”
“Can I at least know his full name?”
“Cal—” I hesitated, blood thudding in my ears. My gaze darted around until it landed on the carved name above the library entrance. “Calvin Green.” The lie hit the air, and my stomach clenched. To her, that name was real now—anchored, permanent. I’d have to remember to ask what Cal wasactuallyshort for…if I ever planned to tell her the truth.
“Calvin Green,” she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “Okay.” She went quiet for a beat. When she spoke again, her tone was subdued. “And you leave tomorrow?”
“Yes. We’ll be gone two weeks.”
Her controlled exhale whispered through the line. “All right,” she said at last, resigned. “Have a great time, and be safe.”
“I will.” Cheers erupted in the distance. The ceremony must have been drawing to a close. “Hey, I’ve got to get back. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Message me when you land. I don’t care what time it is. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I ended the call and made my way back to my sentry post on the stone steps of Melvin Hall. I loved these steps. I used to play on them as a kid, back when my dad brought me along to alumni events.
Final cheers erupted, echoing off the buildings around the green as the ceremony ended. Caps flew like startled birds against the blue sky as music swelled from the loudspeakers. I strained for a glimpse of Cal among the robed faculty, but from my vantage point on the outskirts, the once-orderly procession had already dissolved into a jubilant chaos. Families surged forward, hugging and snapping photos while graduates shed their gowns, the air alive with laughter and celebration. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect—sunny and warm. A soft breeze tugged at the leaves above me, the scent of freshly cut grass sweet and sharp on the wind.
I scanned the crowd and finally spotted Cal walking alongside Dr. Watkins, chatting amiably as they headed toward the science building. Cal’s scarlet Oxford robe billowed behind him like a banner, the deep blue hood vivid against it. His velvet tam sat slightly askew atop his dark hair—careless, rakish, unfairly elegant.
My stomach flipped when he cast me a sideways glance. Even from a distance, he seemed to fill the entire landscape. I’d seen that robe hanging on the back of his office door before, but never like this—never on him. Pride swelled inside me, fierce and uncontainable.
God, he looked good.
I ducked my head, scrolling aimlessly through my phone as I stole another glance at him. He was drawing closer, robes flowing with each long stride, his pinstriped slacks peeking out from underneath.
As they neared the steps, Dr. Watkins spotted me, his face lighting with recognition. “Gabrielle!” he said, pausing with a wide grin. “I thought that was you. Congrats on finishing the year. How’d you do?”
I slipped my phone into my purse and stood, smoothing my dress. “Thanks, Dr. Watkins. It was a tough semester, but I pulled all As by some miracle.”
“So I hear,” he said, eyes twinkling as he glanced at Cal. “Dr. Hawthorne says you were one of his best. This man doesn’t hand out praise easily, you know.”
Cal kept his expression carefully neutral, though I caught the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth. “I do when it’s earned,” he said, holding my gaze for a second too long. The way he said it—quiet, deliberate—sent a shiver low in my spine. “And she certainly earned it.”
Dr. Watkins chuckled, but his eyes flicked between us. One eyebrow ticked—barely perceptible. If he noticed the undercurrent, he didn’t say so. Still, I had the distinct feeling he’d logged something away for later. He turned back to me, sincere again. “Well done, Gabrielle. We’re all very proud.”
“Thanks,” I said, heat creeping up my neck. The breeze played with the hem of my dress.
“Will I see you in my Modern Physics class next fall?” he asked, smiling over his sunglasses. “Fair warning, we hit Einstein by week two.”
Before I could come up with an answer that wasn’t a lie—but didn’t reveal that I was planning to transfer—Cal nudged him with an elbow. “Don’t frighten her off. Let her enjoy the break before you start unloading the syllabus.”
“Fair enough,” Dr. Watkins said with a laugh. “But if you’re around this summer, stop by. We just got a brand-spanking new piece of equipment for a project Dr. Hawthorne and I are working on.”
I glanced at Cal, then back at Dr. Watkins. “What sort of equipment?”
His eyes lit up. “A femtosecond laser system for ultrafast spectroscopy.”
I blinked. “Sounds intense, but all I got out of that was ‘laser.’”
“It can basically ‘freeze time’ at the quantum level,” he explained, his voice animated. “Perfect for studying how particles respond to electromagnetic fields or testing quantum field theory predictions.”
Cal’s mouth tipped into a sly grin. “You spend a million dollars to watch the universe blink.”
