Page 51 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

Maybe that’s why I like chemistry so much. I can physically see the work happening in front of me instead of a computer doing all of it and showing me the results. It’s why I like the Mud Down. Seeing my obstacles and being able to map out my action plan makes things so much easier.

That doesn’t explain why I don’t know what to do about Sam, though. He’s right in front of me. I should be able to study him and make an informed decision on how to proceed, but I can’t. Ever. It’s like he inhibits my brain from functioning.

“Brynn?”

I whip my head up from the computer. “Hm?”

“You do the next one.”

My lower lip works its way between my teeth. I just watched him create a puzzle. He even talked through all the steps as he did it, but am I ready? “Can you do one more? I get too flustered when it comes to computers.”

A warmth appears in his eyes as he nods. “I’ll walk you through it, but you do all the clicking.”

“Okay, fine.” I frown, but let it fall quickly to show I’m joking.

“First thing’s first, pick which image you want for the puzzle.”

I pull up the internet browser with the online site we’ve been using for images. Thinking for a moment, a wicked idea pops into my mind and I type “imagine a radioactive dragon” into the search bar.

Sam groans. “Seriously? You’re never letting me live that down, are you?”

“Nope,” I say, emphasizing the p sound.

He narrows his eyes, but smirks. “Well, then I get some say in what image you pick. Move over.” Scooting closer, his hip bumps mine, and he playfully knocks my hand out of the way.

I hope he doesn’t hear my breath catch. Just the gentle brush of his knuckles on my own sends a thrill through me. And don’t even get me started on the burst of lavender and sage that blasts me in the face as he moves.

It’s all so heady, but too much, so I inch away.

When he approves an image of a green-glowing dragon with laser eyes, he leans back. “Okay, you take it from here,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. His hand lingers a moment too long, and when he pulls it away, I miss the warmth.

Get it together, Brynn. Finish the damn slide and you can leave.

As if he senses my tension, Sam moves farther from me as he guides me through the rest of the process. Pointing to which icons to click or which commands on the keyboard to use, he’s surprisingly patient and understanding when I ask questions. And I ask a lot of them.

After he helps me add a few puzzle pieces, he sits back and lets me take the reins. I’m able to do one on my own, but I screw up the next one. I don’t even know how. I swear technology hates me.

I glance at Sam, an incredulous look on my face. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to say some smartass remark about me screwing that up?”

A sympathetic crinkle forms in his brow. “Brynn,” he says, leaning forward. “A lot of sarcastic, albeit witty, things may come out of my mouth, but I’m not going to berate someone who’s trying to learn. Even if that person is the most stubborn woman on the planet.” He nudges my hand out of the way to take over the keyboard, but when our fingers graze, it steals my breath again.

I need to get a grip on myself. Sam isn’t anything more than my enemy.

But even that doesn’t feel right, at the moment.

Sure, he knocked me out of my first place standing on the bull, infiltrated my study group, and is my competition for an internship that’s basically been mine for three years, but does that make him enemy material?

Maybe rival is a better word for what he is to me.

After what seems like a painstakingly long time, my puzzle is finished. Sam clicks through all the slides, showing me what buttons to press to reveal the questions and answers. Everything seems to be in place.

I stare at the screen in awe. “I can’t believe it works.”

“You see? You’re not completely hopeless.”

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