Page 58 of Wish You Were Mine
The way my stomach turned at that last thought told me I really didn’t like that particular idea.
I sipped my water, trying to cool the inexplicable heat rising in my chest, but it didn’t quiet the swirl of questions in my head.
Why did I care who Owen ate his meals with?
He was my professor. Off-limits. An impossible idea.
Still, when I risked one more glance—just in time to see him leaning in to say something that made her laugh—something hollow cracked open inside me.
I pressed my lips together and forced myself to look away for good.
Because even if it made no sense to care who Owen might be spending his down time with…I apparently cared, anyway.
Which was just really, really stupid.
I lifted the spoon to my lips and took another sip of the Pho, leaning over the bowl a little more this time. The warmth hit my tongue first—rich, salty, comforting—and then came the kick of spice, just enough to make my nose tingle.
It was exactly what I’d been craving.
But just as I went in for another bite, I heard Owen’s deep chuckle, low and unmistakable, drifting across the restaurant like some cruel cosmic reminder. He was laughing at somethinghis date must’ve said, and the sound of it—so easy, so real—sent a sharp twist through my chest.
My hand slipped.
The spoon clattered back into the bowl, and a rogue splash of broth shot up and hit me square in the eye.
“Ahh!” I yelped, jerking back as the burn seared across my right eyeball.
“What happened?” Brody looked up, wide-eyed, halfway through a bite of Pad Thai. “Are you okay?”
I blinked rapidly, my eye watering like crazy as I grabbed the edge of the table. “I just got some of the spicy broth in my eye.”
“Oh man.” He winced. “Maybe use water? Try dabbing it out?”
“Okay…” I muttered, grabbing my napkin and dipping it quickly into my glass. I pressed the cool damp cloth to the corner of my eye, blinking hard, hoping it would flush out whatever chili-laced demon had launched itself into my face.
But it didn’t help.
If anything, it made it worse.
“Crap.” Brody leaned across the table slightly, brows pinched. “Do you need help? What can I do?”
“I don’t know…” I whispered back, laughing and wincing at the same time. “But if I don’t fix this soon it really might burn a hole in my eye. Do you think it can cause damage?”
Without waiting for an answer, I scrambled out of my seat and made a beeline for the bathroom, barely registering the way I passed Owen’s table in my panicked haze.
Of course.
Because why wouldn’t I run out of a dinner with another guy right as Owen was glancing up, catching my eye like I was fleeing an awkward first-date disaster? His expression flickered as our eyes met—concern? Confusion? Definitely suspicion. Butreally, I didn’t have time to figure that out because I needed to get the stinging to stop.
I barreled into the bathroom, shoved the door open, and made a beeline for the sink. Cold water. Rinse. Blink. Repeat. I tilted my head sideways and let the water run into the corner of my eye. Then creating a little pool of water in my cupped hand, I put my eye in the water and blinked furiously to move the water gently around.
It took a minute and a few more handfuls of water, but the burning eventually dulled.
Finally. I exhaled slowly, bracing my hands on the edge of the sink. When I looked at my reflection in the mirror, the girl looking back at me was frazzled, pink-eyed, and mildly tragic.
So much for Brody saying I looked good all the time.
The right side of my eyeliner had all but vanished, the lashes were bare, and the skin under my eye was definitely blotchy.Awesome.
