Page 70 of Wish You Were Mine
I stared at the message after hittingSend.
Was that too much? Putting those three dots in my text like he had?
Too obvious?
But then, another message pushed through.
Theo’s friend: If you like class that much, maybe you should sit on the front row next time. Easier to see from up there…
A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it.
Professor Park was letting his flirty side out.
And I was definitely not mad about it.
Two nights later, after dinner with the team in Kalamazoo, Michigan, I curled up on my hotel bed with my laptop open, a half-eaten protein bar next to me, and my marketing strategy notes spread out like a sad little fan.
The TV was playing a 90s sitcom in the background, and Nora and Mayci were on the other bed talking stats on Michigan’s top vaulters.
I should’ve been listening to their conversation. Or at least focusing on my notes.
But instead, I glanced at my phone.
Then checked it again.
Because yes, I might have been hoping for another message from Owen. Since yeah…we’d been texting off and on since Thursday night.
As if he’d read my mind, my screen lit up.
Theo’s friend: What are you up to tonight?
I hesitated only a second before snapping a photo of the mess beside me—highlighters, laptop, and the corner of my pajama-clad leg. Nothing scandalous. Just theplaid flannel pants I’d borrowed from Theo over Christmas break and never returned.
Me: Living the glamorous life. Homework and hotel TV.
I probably shouldn’t be sending photos to my professor…
But it was innocent enough. Right?
A second later, a message came through.
Theo’s friend: Those pajamas look dangerously comfy.
I smiled, biting my lip. Liking that he was getting more risky with his texts. Pushing the boundaries between professional and flirty a little more.
Me: They are. Might wear them to my meet tomorrow.
Me: You doing anything fun tonight?
Please don’t say you’re on another date with that girl.
A beat passed and then he sent a photo, too. The dim glow of overhead lights and the soft blur of liquor bottles.
The Garden’s bar.
Theo’s friend: Just working.
Me: You work too much. You should make time for more fun.
