Page 40 of Don't Be in Love

(There were no mice.)

Between Sabrina’s tear-filled night and Sylvie’s comments, I was overwhelmed. Even now, a part of me was nervous Sylvie had eyes in the books watching us.

“Let this sit for a few minutes and it should be good.” His words poked through my thoughts. He sat against the edge of the table, facing me.

An internal piece of my computer was resting on his jacket.

“That’s it?” I looked at him in disbelief.

“Well, that and you have to rub its back and take it out to dinner.”

I laughed and his mouth kicked upward. That dimple appeared on his left cheek.

“Easy, I’ll cook it a frozen meal tonight for all its hard work,” I responded.

“Oh, you thought I meant the computer? I was talking about me. You owe me damages for the past two weeks of no tutoring.”

I laughed,again. And then he laughed from the reaction on my face. It was joyous and wonderous. The laughter of a boy who was chasing after a butterfly. The same laughter he shared with James.

The library quieted as we caught our breath. He looked at me with an unreadable expression before redirecting his gaze.

“To be honest, I would like to make you dinner. And I know. I know, it’s out of the question, and you have no problem telling me no.” He shook his head, twisting the ring around his thumb. “But I don’t understand why you’ve been avoiding me.”

His head shifted, and so did his glance. I was pinned by his eyes.

I knew the answer: Sylvie and Sabrina.

But why did it feel like there was this third answer bubbling at the surface each time he looked at me? One that had to do with the fact that I could count the number of inches betweenour lips and the time it would take to grab his belt loop and pull him forward.

I needed something else to stare at. I picked the window behind him like a coward.

“The Townsen Dinner was a difficult night for Sabrina. She’s needed me the past few weeks.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Sabrina did want more movie nights than usual. But she always wasn’t getting over Dorian like I had hoped.

“Did she have a difficult night or did you?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have the best night either. Ending events in ponds isn’t my first choice.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“How am I avoiding the question?”

“Because you were royally pissed off before that.”

“That’s no surprise, I usually am when I’m with you.”

“Do you say anything you’re genuinely thinking when you’re around me, because it feels a lot like you’re covering something up.”

“And what would that be?”

He opened his mouth and shut it. I waited as he searched my face, calculating his response.

“Nothing.” He leaned back. I hadn’t even realized we had begun to ease forward.

He returned to the laptop, placing the piece back in.

“I’m sorry about your dress,” he said as he twisted the key, screwing the piece in.