Page 103 of Ruthless Court

“You look hot.”

“I look like I lost an argument.”

“That too.”

Noor hands me a tiny purse.

“My phone won’t fit in that.”

“It will if you stop carrying three pens and an emergency notebook.”

“The notebook is necessary.”

“For what?”

“Observations.”

“You are not documenting us.”

“That depends on your behavior.”

Lila links her arm through mine.

“Come on, Professor.”

The restaurant sits a few blocks off campus between a coffee shop and a store selling running shoes that cost more than my winter coat.

Inside, it’s dim, loud, and packed with students pretending Monday doesn’t exist.

A long bar runs along one wall. Red booths line the other. The air smells like fries, grilled onions, and spilled beer.

We squeeze into a booth near the back.

Noor orders cocktails with ridiculous names. Lila gets something pink with mint floating in it. I stick with a hard cider after checking the price twice.

“Live dangerously,” Lila says.

“I am. This costs twelve dollars.”

Our burgers arrive fast.

For twenty minutes, everything is easy.

Noor tells us about the professor who pronounced her last name three different ways in one lecture. Lila reenacts a disastrous coffee date with a graduate student who explained cryptocurrency until she pretended to receive an emergency text.

I laugh so hard I nearly choke on a fry.

Then Noor’s expression changes.

She looks past my shoulder.

“Don’t turn around.”

I turn around.

Kane Haverhill sits at the bar.

Krista is between his knees.