Page 30 of Bookworm
“That looks bad,” he said. “Do you need a doctor?”
I fought a smile and rolled my eyes at him. “If I went to the doctor every time I burned myself with the embossing gun, I’d never have time to get any other work done.”
I held up my palm where a white scar ran from my pinky to my thumb. “I got this one when I picked up a heat wand, not realizing my lab partner had already turned it on.”
I pushed my sleeve higher and showed a circular scar that could have been a cigar burn. “Got this one when I leaned on a press.”
I spread my fingers so he could see the scar on the webbing of my hand. “Got this scar?—”
“Good God, Harper! How many timeshaveyou burned yourself?”
I grinned. “This one was actually from the X-Acto knife, not a burn. But, since you asked, I’ve burned myself nine times. Though only four left scars.”
His eyes narrowed. “You only showed me three…”
“The other isn’t on an area of my body I can exactly show you easily. Or publicly.”
Not without getting arrested.
I turned back to the book, tapping it with the back of my knuckle. It was dry. Or at least, dry enough to go back on the shelf.
“Oh my God, Harper. Are you telling me that you burned yourvagina!?”
“What!?” I shrieked and whipped around to face him. “No! Oh my God,no! My butt, Adam. I burned my ass because I was wearing a short skirt and thong undies and I didn’t realize that when I bent over, a bit of buttcheek was peeking out. The stupid heat wand was hanging a little over the edge of the table andbam! Burned butt.”
His face flushed and he scrubbed his hand down over his eyes. “Oh. Oh, yeah. That makes way more sense.”
“You seriously thought Iburnedmyvaginawith my restoration tools?! What the hell, Adam!?”
He threw his hands in the air. “I’m sorry, okay! I was still half-asleep and, I mean, I don’t know… that thing looks kind of phallic!”
I grabbed the wand, making sure it was turned off—it was— and held it up to take a look.
Okay, he had a point. It did sort of look like a fancy ass dildo. But still. “You legitimately believed I would stick something that heated to 600 degrees up my cooch?”
He gave a frustrated grunt. “I mean… not when it’s on or anything.”
“If I wouldn’t do it when it was on, how would I have burned myself?”
He dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation right now.”
“A conversation thatyoustarted.”
His shoulders trembled with a suppressed laugh. “And one that I would very much like to end right now, too.”
“Too bad,” I said, swinging the heat wand from the cord like it was a rope and I was a skilled hogtie… er… person. “Because now every time I look at one of these, I’m going to think of a dildo! And I use this thingeverydamn day!”
It was my turn to start laughing.
It was two in the morning.
I was exhausted. And punchy. And even though I’d spent the last seven hours working, technically, I hadn’t even started the actual job I’d been hired to do here at Dartmouth.
It made me want to cry. And since I couldn’t let myself cry… I decided to laugh instead.
I tossed the heat wand down and sighed. “Well, the good news is, I think we’re done for tonight. We should get out of here and get some sleep.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea. Plus, we haven’t eaten dinner.”
