Page 65 of Wish You Were Mine
“Nice,” I said, hoping it wasn’t completely obvious how relieved I was by that answer. Because Ireallyshouldn’t care whether they’d been on a date or not.
“Your date was cute, by the way,” she said, something in hertone I couldn’t interpret. “You two serious? Boyfriend-girlfriend perhaps?”
“Not quite.” I chuckled awkwardly. “It was a first date.”
“Oh…” Her voice trailed, her expression unreadable. “Well, it looked like you were having a good time together.”
She’d been paying attention?
Not that I should care.
“Yeah, it was fine.” I cleared my throat. “Uh, I mean, we had a good dinner.”
At least the first part had gone well…right up until the point when I’d seen Lucy and suddenly became distracted.
Silence settled between us for a moment as we took the turn to where my office was.
“Well, this is my office.” I cleared my throat again and nodded toward the door ahead. I pulled out my keycard and swiped it, hearing the lock click open.
“Ooh.” She leaned forward for a peek as I pushed the door open. “Looks nice. Very...chemistry professor-like.”
She must have been referring to the periodic table art on the wall, which was a parting gift from the faculty at Eden Falls Academy when I left my position there to come here.
“I guess.” I dropped my bag beside the desk, glancing over my shoulder. “All it’s missing is a leather armchair.”
She lingered just inside the doorway as I sat on the edge of my desk. After taking in more of my office, she smiled, saying, “So this is where the chemistry happens.”
I was not proud of where my brain went next. A scene from some steamy student-teacher film came to mind—her walking in, clicking the door shut. Me pulling her into a kiss that had nothing to do with lab reports or energy equations.
I flinched and pushed the thought away. I definitely didn’t need to be picturing somethinglike that.
Especially not when the girl I’d very much like to do that with was standing just a couple feet away.
I cleared my throat, hoping the sound would scrub the images from my head. “Uh, yeah. I pretty much just log students’ grades in here and answer questions.”
“Of course,” she said, but the flush in her cheeks made me wonder if her brain had gone somewhere similar to mine. Her walking in, shutting the door behind her, me pinning her against it, kissing her until?—
Nope. Not going there.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything to steer the conversation into safer territory—when I heard footsteps in the hallway. And then a voice.
Dean Harris.
He was chatting with someone just outside. I stiffened, pulse spiking. Maybe he’d just keep walking.
Please keep walking.
“Have a good evening, Professor Marks,” the Dean said, and I winced.
Great.
I shot a quick look at Lucy, who was still standing near my desk, utterly unaware of the panic crashing through my chest.
I needed this to look aboveboard.
Like an actual office-hours interaction.
“So basically,” I said suddenly, loud enough to carry, “you’re measuring the enthalpy change, which is just a fancy way of saying how much heat is released or absorbed during the reaction.”
