Page 46 of The Naughty Professor
“Get what?”
She grinned like a cat with a cornered mouse.“That hickey, Dr.Sterling.Big one.Looks like someone tried to suck your soul out through your jugular.”
I slapped a hand over my throat so fast I nearly dropped my mug.My fingers brushed something tender and hot.
Juniper’s grin widened.“Oh my God, you did hook up!Who was he?”
“I—what—no,” I stammered, trying to will my face not to turn the color of bromothymol blue in acid solution.
She wasn’t listening.She was looking around the room now, frowning.“Also, the lab was a disaster zone this morning.”
My stomach sank.“Define ‘disaster.’”
“Define?”she snapped.“There were broken beakers, two shattered test tubes, your glasses, and—” she held up a small plastic evidence bag containing a syringe “—this.”
“Give me my glasses,” I mumbled.
She stomped toward me, boots thudding.“Don’t you dare tell me you made that fucking serum.”She pulled my glasses from the bag and handed them to me.
“I can explain,” I blurted, which, of course, was the same as saying, Yes, I made the serum.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed into death lasers.“You made the serum?The one I told you not to make?The one that gave that Syrian woman permanent brain damage?”
I backed up until the counter pressed into my spine.“It wasn’t the same formula!I adjusted the ratios—”
“—and you tested it on yourself?Are you insane?You could’ve died!Or melted your frontal lobe!”
“I’m fine!”I lied.My hands were shaking.“Mostly fine.”
She threw her arms up.“You’re unbelievable.I’ve seen undergrads do smarter shit during pledge week!”
I sank onto a stool, face in my hands.“It’s worse than you think.”
“Oh, it’s worse than I think?”she said.“What’s worse than creating a potentially lethal chemical and shooting it up?”
“I didn’t—” I sighed.“Please stop talking.”
Juniper muttered a few expletives that would’ve made a sailor blush.Then her voice went quiet, thoughtful.“Is that… glitter in your hair?”
I froze.
She stepped closer, squinting.“Jesus Christ, it is.”
I tried to brush it away, which only made it shimmer more under the fluorescent lights.
“Jesus, Dr.Sterling,” she said slowly, “what did you do last night?”
Before I could answer, the lab door flew open hard enough to rattle the glassware.
“Jax!”a voice trilled.
No.No, no, no.
Professor Lorna Hernandez swept into the room like a peacock on espresso—scarlet dress, rhinestone earrings, hair the color of an emergency flare.She was glowing.Radiant.Possibly still drunk.
She marched right up to me, threw her arms around my neck, and sighed dramatically.“Oh, Jax!Last night was magical!”
Juniper’s jaw dropped so fast it might’ve dislocated.
