Love Sick

Grace

SEPTEMBER, YEAR 2

Our outpatient clinic across the street from TUMC is run by the residents and overseen by our faculty attendings. Each resident is required one half day of clinic per week. For the first time since we started residency, Julian and I share the same time slot—Friday morning.

It’s been nice—dare I say fun ?—having him by my side. Turns out, his sarcasm is quite entertaining when it’s not directed solely at annoying me.

I settle into my computer in the dictation room as morning sunlight streams through the windows behind me. Like the rest of the resident areas, the place is a mess, but I love it.

It’s home.

My first appointment is a girl establishing prenatal care.

She’s fourteen.

A lovely girl, if a little quiet, and quite diligent. She takes industrious notes on everything I say. The irony that those notes are scribbled in an outdated Lisa Frank notebook is not lost on me.

As I chart afterward, I sip my Starbucks and side-eye my clinic partner. “We still on for later?”

Julian continues to type. “One o’clock, right? Sim lab?”

I nod. In July, Julian and I spent our minimal spare time coaching each other, but all of August was lost since he was on nights and I was on days. Now that we’re both on days again, we’re back at it. I quiz him on medical diagnoses and treatment options, and he works with me on surgical techniques—the steps of procedures, suturing, practicing on models. He even set up a laparoscopic training box for us to use in his apartment.

He’s getting better at the flashcards, though it seems to require immense effort for him to concentrate. I have to redirect his focus so many times each study session that a wild curiosity has risen, wondering what’s happening in his head that’s so distracting.

My improvement, on the other hand, has been slow but steady. He may not be the best student, but patient and thorough, he’s a phenomenal teacher.

This week, the simulation lab opened after being closed for remodeling since the spring. The lab boasts a laparoscopic simulator, several training models and a DaVinci surgical robot console. He booked time for us to practice this afternoon.

“What about Group Therapy at Kai’s?” I ask. “You coming to that, too?”

He slides a glance toward me. “Do I ever miss Group Therapy?”

“This drink you promised better be as good as you say it is if I’m missing out on a Mambo Taxi for it.”

He gives his screen the no-smile.

“Darling!” a voice shouts behind me, and I turn to the door as Asher sweeps through. He beams. “And here I thought my day would be boring.”

“Hey, Asher,” I say. “What are you doing here?”

He pulls a chair between me and Julian. “Had to turn in some evals to Chen. And what are you fine people doing this morning?”

Julian points to his computer. “Obviously, we’re working.”

Asher sighs. “Oh, to be young again.” He winks at me. “Actually, I don’t miss second year at all. It’s the worst. Did I ever tell you about the time I was given a punishment weekend shift because I was ten minutes late to a surgery a senior had claimed, then didn’t show up to?”

My mouth drops open. “Seriously?”

“Yep. And the punishment shift I was assigned was supposed to be that senior’s, so she slept in on the day of the surgery, and got the weekend free for her troubles.”

Both Julian and I stare at him in horror.

“Yep. Second year sucks. But hey, it’s already September, so only…nine months to go.”

“Thanks for that reminder.” Julian pushes away from the desk to see his next patient.

Asher and I chat a few more minutes before a chorus of oohs and aahs peal through the door. We exchange glances, and I slip outside the dictation room to investigate.

Asher bumps into me when I stop short at the sight before me. In the middle of a crowd of medical assistants, Julian cradles his patient’s newborn baby girl. The new mom stands beside him, beaming, along with all the MAs. Julian’s gaze is fastened on the sleeping baby. A soft smile plays at his mouth.

My insides scream in joy.

Wed him and bed him! Have his babies!

Whoa. It’s intense, this sudden desire. I must be ovulating or something. Hormones are totally absurd.

This is Julian , I remind myself. Where is this even coming from?

“Isn’t she beautiful, Dr. Santini?” the patient asks.

Julian nods.

Isn’t he beautiful? Look at him. He’s so pretty.

Um. No. False.

Then again…how rude would it be to remove the child from his arms so I can jump in them? His arms seem like a fabulous place to be right now.

Still smiling, he glances up and does a double take when he meets my eyes.

Father my children, please.

God, what is this? Attraction is a fickle, illogical thing. I have to forcibly remember that prettiness doesn’t trump personality.

Though…is his personality really that bad?

Julian and I stare at each other a beat too long, only interrupted when one of the MAs asks to hold the baby. I blink away the nonsensical desire and the flutters in my stomach, then return to my computer.

My body is still humming though, which makes the remainder of our clinic time awkward as hell. I’m not even sure when Asher leaves, but I think I manage a goodbye.

Heading to the sim lab a couple hours later, I’ve put it behind me. Sort of. I’ve come up with a system in which I picture a frozen tundra every time thoughts of Julian arise.

He swipes his card to enter the lab and drags me inside. “You act like I’m taking you to hell.”

“I’ve never liked video games, Julian.”

He snorts. “You practically get off at the sight of flashcards, but dread playing with fake laparoscopic instruments. I’ll never understand you.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes. My mysteries are vast and deep.”

“Then you’ll like hell.” He winks and my insides go all shivery. From the ice of the tundra, of course.

Located at the nearby medical school, the sim lab is all white tiles, white walls and white ceiling. Tables around the periphery are set up with surgical models. The robot console fills one corner and the LapSim another. A gurney with a simulation patient is pushed against one wall. The smell of fresh paint lingers in the air.

At the LapSim, Julian punches in his credentials and whizzes through the introductory information like he’s done it a hundred times. The list of courses pops up and his previous scores display to the side.

My mouth drops open. I point at the total laparoscopic hysterectomy module. He has a perfect score.

What the—

“It took me forever to get that score,” he says.

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

“It was a bet. Maxwell said I couldn’t do it.”

A grin spreads over my face. “What’d you win?”

The bridge of his nose turns a curious shade of red and he glances at the door. “You remember that first hyst I did by myself as an intern?”

I nod.

“It was supposed to be Maxwell’s and he got sick at the last minute. I was conveniently the only one around to assist.”

The back of my hand connects hard with his shoulder. “Julian! You’re thieving surgeries?”

“It was gifted to me.” He rubs his arm, as if my hand could do any damage to the marble there.

“Fine. Teach me your ways, Golden Boy.”

He starts the basic training modules—the ones I’d started last winter and abandoned in total frustration. They aren’t explicitly required, so I decided my time was better spent elsewhere.

Quitting definitely had nothing to do with the hit to my perfectionism, and the place was under refurbishment, anyway. Totally out of my control.

“It’s all about depth perception.” He opens a module on clip placement and grasps the instruments, long fingers sliding into the handles. My gaze snags on the movements. His tendons flex and his veins dilate as he works.

With his attention riveted to the screen, he’s oblivious to my hand lust. What is it about his hands? Maybe it’s simply that they’re so capable. So skilled. I clearly have a competence kink.

They’d have that same proficiency on your body, .

Frozen wasteland. Frozen wasteland. Frozen wasteland.

Don’t kid yourself. You’ve been thinking this for months.

Look at him, smiling at the screen.

That jaw.

And he’s so nice.

Ugh. He doesn’t like me that way, does he? He hasn’t given any hints. He doesn’t flirt. Never makes a move. Do I even want him to like me that way?

“See?” he says. “Once you get the depth perception down, the rest is all hand-eye coordination.”

He steps aside to let me grab the instruments, then stands behind me. I take three times as long to do what he did and make the simulated patient hemorrhage in the process.

“Okay.” He tilts his head at all the fake blood spurting over the screen. “So you’re as bad at this as I am at flashcards.”

“I told you.”

A smile touches his mouth while he bounces a couple times on his toes. “It’s fine. We got this. Practice makes perfect. Do it again.”

I do it three more times, and while I do improve with his suggestions, I still fail. Growling, I toss the instruments, but they’re stuck in place so they go nowhere.

He laughs and clicks his tongue. “Patience, Sapphire.”

“I really don’t like being bad at things.”

“No. You?” he says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. I glare and he chuckles, pointing at the screen. “Try it again.” His hand touches my shoulder, firing electricity across my skin. “I promise you’ll get it eventually.”

I slog through the modules. He cheerleads the entire time. Sometimes, he places his hands over mine to demonstrate techniques he’s learned, but it’s lost on me as the brush of his skin and heat from his body steal all my attention.

Icy snow. Blasting winds. Cold, cold, cold.

But I’m on fire within.

When I finally pass a module, we high-five like I’ve saved a bus full of orphans. I’m not ready, but he pulls up the ectopic pregnancy module for fun and I make a fantastic accidental cut straight through the IP ligament. The patient bleeds out and Julian’s chuckles become full-bodied laughter. His forehead drops to my shoulder.

Releasing the instruments, my hands fall to my sides, and I close my eyes to savor his proximity. “This is way harder than doing it in real life.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen you operate. You’re not this bad.” The cinnamon on his breath seeps inside me. The heat of it fans over my back and around my neck, soaking through my scrubs.

His laughter fades and he takes a deep breath, lifting his forehead from my shoulder a few inches so his voice is a low murmur next to my ear. “Is it my turn to be tortured now?”

I nod and swallow against the sudden desert in my throat. “We could use one of the breakout rooms upstairs.”

Small group sessions are common in medical training, and the med school has a ton of breakout rooms—perfect for one-on-one studying.

“All right.” He heads toward the door.

We grab our bags and make our way to the elevator, then lean against the wall closer than we need to.

The breakout rooms are on the fourth floor, and the elevator is slow. Our hands rest mere inches from each other, but neither one of us closes the gap. I’m like a teenager in a movie theater, aching for him to hold my hand.

And the world is officially backward. I want Julian Santini to hold my hand.

Like he did by the pool. Remember that?

Pretty hands… Touching you…

Hmm. I’d almost forgotten about that. Maybe he does flirt a little bit.

A bucket of invisible sparks dumps over my head as the lustful creature inside takes control of my index finger and strains toward him. My knuckle barely grazes his, then retreats. My eyes go wide. Our heads turn toward each other. He raises an eyebrow.

“It was an accident.” The words topple over each other as they exit my mouth.

The no-smile lights up his stupidly handsome face. “You wanna hold my hand, Rose?”

“What?” Heat spreads over my cheeks. “No! Of course not. Why would you—no.”

The door opens, and I practically leap from the elevator.

Julian’s mocking laughter follows me. “Come on. Hold my hand.”

I glance back as I walk. His hand reaches toward me, inviting. A challenging glint dances in his dark eyes.

He is flirting. Flirting . With me. And I have the vapors. I have officially become Mrs. Bennet.

My poor nerves!

Scoffing, I race toward my favorite breakout room. We settle in chairs on opposite sides of the table.

Our eyes lock and for some inexplicable reason, my breathing deepens and my thoughts scatter across the table like candy from a tipped jar. If he’s trying to throw me off balance today, he’s certainly succeeding.

“All right.” I try to smile. “You were supposed to study ovarian masses.”

He pulls out his computer, a little notch between his eyebrows. “Yes. I did do that.” He clears his throat. “Tried. I tried to do that.”

I narrow my eyes and retrieve my own laptop. “Why don’t you start with naming them?”

He taps his finger on the table. “So, you have your dysgerminomas.”

I nod.

“And you have—your—germinomas.”

I blink a few times. “That’s…not right.”

His shoulders fall.

“You didn’t do your flashcards, did you?”

“I did…” His gaze travels to the windows behind me. “I did some of them.”

Sighing, I turn on my computer, finally in my element. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

* * *

That night, I lift my lowball of iced silvery green liquid to eye level. “What’s this drink called again?”

Julian’s no-smile is in fine form this evening. He toasts me as he plops onto Kai’s couch. “Unicorn Blood.”

By the contents littering Kai’s tiny kitchen countertop, the drink is part tequila, part St. Germain, part lime juice. A frilly curl of orange rind floating on top of mine has me curious about secret ingredients, though.

Standing beside me in the kitchen, Alesha stares at hers in wonder. “This slaps!”

Julian sips his own. “Told you.”

Kai lives in a small apartment above a wealthy family’s detached garage. His furniture is tasteful and comfortable, with cozy blankets thrown over the sofa backs and fancy lamps with multicolor LED smart bulbs glowing warm white. Alesha fought with him over the color, requesting turquoise for ambiance.

She received a sassy look as a response.

Raven sits beside Julian, lime La Croix in hand, and Kai perches on a bar stool at the open picture window connecting the kitchen to the attached space—part living room, part dining room.

Alesha leans over the counter to give Kai another pleading look. “Turquoise?” she asks for the third time.

Kai ignores her by skimming through his phone. I wander out of the kitchen, eyes still trained on my drink. I stop in the middle of the room.

“I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” says an amused voice.

My gaze flicks to meet Julian’s. “There’s no way this is better than a Mambo Taxi.”

Sparks light his eyes, and his lips curve into a slow smile. “How can you know you don’t like it if you never taste it?”

Taste it.

Mind blank, frozen tundra miles away, I stare at his mouth. My heart simultaneously climbs into my throat and thunders against my ribs, and everyone else falls away from my consciousness.

My fantasies of him have multiplied throughout the day and I’m equally annoyed and intrigued by them.

It’s a passing fancy. A curiosity. He’s safe because nothing will ever come of it. There’s none of the usual anxiety because it will never happen.

He couldn’t possibly be interested in me, right?

So what would he do if I stepped closer? If I slid my legs on either side of him? I want to trap him against my body, all the softest parts of me pressed against the hardest parts of him.

What would his lips taste like?

Ice queen.

“Oh my god.” Kai snaps.

I startle, upsetting the contents of my glass.

Kai rises to his feet, glaring at his phone. “Listen to this bullshit. ‘Last Friday you received an email correspondence regarding an employee gift. I regret to inform you that residents are not included in this employee gift distribution. I apologize for any hurt feelings this may cause. That was never my intent. Best regards, Steven Langston.’”

Raven gasps and her eyes go puppy-dog large. “We don’t get the gift? I wanted that Yeti.”

Kai hurls his phone onto the counter. “Not only do I work four hundred hours a week. Not only do I have to park a mile away and shuttle because they don’t have enough parking for employees. Not only am I yelled at when I get chicken strips in the cafeteria instead of choking down that free poison they call food. But now I don’t even get the free tumbler I was promised as an employee of the hospital? IF I’M NOT AN EMPLOYEE, THEN I’M PARKING IN PATIENT PARKING.”

My mouth drops open.

Um. What just happened?

A silence passes while he takes a huge gulp of Unicorn Blood, then thumps it on the counter.

Alesha moves to Kai’s side and touches his shoulder. “You okay there, friend?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay. I have officially reached my Angry Era. I got bitched out by Dr. Ryan today for mismanaging a bleeding patient that I’d already run by Chen, who agreed with my plan. I then spent three hours pushing with a patient only to have the delivery taken by a fucking fourth year. Then I had to sit in on a transfusion committee meeting where they harangued me about how many blood products we use on L&D. LET THEM BLEED OUT. I DON’T FUCKING CARE.”

“Whoa.” Alesha guides him to a stool.

Kai isn’t done. “I finished out my day by telling a med student she needs to get off her phone and at least try to look interested. She assured me she was so interested, then whipped out her computer and started typing furiously. Pause. More furious typing. Like, bitch, I know you’re just texting on your computer. YOU’RE NOT SNEAKY.”

Alesha hands him his Unicorn Blood and he takes another gulp.

“Uh.” Julian sits straight, lines marring his forehead. “These are kind of strong.”

Alesha shrugs. “He obviously needs it and he isn’t driving.”

Kai groans out a sigh and slumps. “Sorry. Bad day. Steven Langston can go fuck himself with a wire toilet brush.”

“It isn’t his fault.” Alesha hops onto the stool next to him.

Kai’s death glare spears right through her. “I will strangle you with my stethoscope.”

“Oh, stop being dramatic.” She waves her hand. “I thought you were supposed to be the stoic one here.”

Kai takes another huge drink, draining it. He reaches over the bar for the mixer on the counter below and refills his glass. “Don’t worry. I’ll be all bottled up again by tomorrow.”

Raven rises to approach him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “Second year is really hard. I’m sorry you had a bad day.”

I set my drink on the sideboard to encircle my arms around both Raven and Kai. Alesha is next, followed by Julian. The five of us embrace each other in silence for several moments.

Raven clears her throat. “I have some good news. Isaac and I are expecting our second next spring.”

Alesha whoops and I jump, breaking the hug. We shift toward Raven, all of us converging on her. She giggles at the hugs and congratulations.

When we separate once more, we all shift seats. Kai offers his to Raven, who takes it. Alesha and Kai steal the couch, leaving Julian and me the two remaining bar stools.

Alesha launches into a summary of her own day, but unlike Kai, she’s elated. “The patient was fine, but the baby daddy, you guys. Oh my god. He was wearing two different shoes and had to leave when the patient was five centimeters because his brother—and I quote— accidentally shot his dick off . Then when he came back he forgot the patient’s name because he has two women pregnant right now, and forgot which one was in labor.”

“You’re kidding.” Julian stretches an arm across the bar and rests it behind me.

Alesha laughs so hard tears sparkle in her eyes. “I wish I was. When she finally started pushing, she screamed, where is that fucker? And it turns out he was out in the parking lot, smoking weed.” Alesha wipes her eyes. “He missed the delivery.”

Raven gives us the puppy-dog eyes again. “Aw! That poor woman.”

Kai snorts. “I think the pregnancy is making you emotional.”

“Um,” she says with crossed arms. “Who was the one screaming about a mildly worded email earlier?”

Laughing, Kai tips his glass toward her. “Touché.”

Julian retrieves my drink from the sideboard and hands it to me. “Just try it.” He resumes his position. Behind me, his fingers tug on the ends of my hair.

Without breaking eye contact, I raise the glass to my lips, taking the tiniest sip. Lime, tequila and something sweetly floral dance along my tongue, chased by the tangy aftertaste of orange.

My eyes widen. “Holy fuck.”

His fingers twist through strands of my hair, and he gasps. “She said the f-word again.”

Hyperaware of his hand behind me, I take a larger drink. “This is so good, Julian. Why have you been hiding this from us?”

“If I remember correctly, I told you about this drink in February and you weren’t interested in straying from the tried and true.”

Julian has never touched me like this, playing with my hair, almost absently, like he’s not aware he’s doing it. Is he aware? Does he somehow sense my piquing interest?

Raven glances at us. Her gaze dips to his fingers tangled in my hair. Julian straightens and withdraws his hand. Pretending nothing happened, Raven returns to the conversation, but after a few moments, she throws us a curious look.

I feign ignorance and face Julian. “If I’d known what I was missing, I would’ve been asking for this every night.”

I replay my words and hear the double entendre. Heat flickers over my face.

He suppresses a smile. “Would you? Every night?”

“Ha, ha.” I set my cold glass against the fire of my cheek.

But he’s not done. A devious humor lightens the deep brown in his eyes. “Would you say please?”

“Shut up, Julian.”

“Yes, please.” Kai toasts me. “Do shut up.”

Alesha giggles, nudging him with her bare toe. “And you thought you hated it when they were fighting all the time.”

Kai winces. “I know. This is so much worse.”

* * *

Dr. LaShay is a scatterbrained ditz. I don’t know how she graduated high school, let alone medical school. Dr. Echols insists that LaShay was top of her class, but LaShay is also sixty-eight years old, so I doubt he found records of her class rank.

Proof or it didn’t happen. That’s what I say.

She’s a private attending with a bustling OB practice and delivers all her babies at St. Vincent. Her greatest love is to use the residents for her grunt work.

“Where’s the resident?” she squawks.

I pop up from my place at the dictation desk. “That’s me.”

She looks at me like she’s never seen me before, though we’ve worked together dozens of times. Her short white bob is so starched with hairspray it doesn’t move when she cocks her head. “What year are you?”

“Uh—second.”

“What’s your name?”

“ Rose, ma’am.”

She looks me up and down. “Fine. I need help with my next C-section and Dr. Echols is busy.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be there.”

“Be ready in ten.”

I reseat myself and go back to work, but a small chuckle to my left draws my eye. A man sits at the computer next to mine. He’s young, handsome and his blue eyes shine through silver-rimmed glasses.

Cute.

I guess I have a thing for glasses.

His badge declares him a fellow resident, but I’m not sure what specialty.

“Something funny?” I raise an eyebrow.

He nods his head toward LaShay, now squawking at one of the nurses. “She seems like a trip.”

I glance at LaShay. “Oh. Yeah. It’s—whatever.”

At least she lets me operate, unlike Levine…

“I’m Trevor.” He holds a hand out for me to shake.

Warm hands. Not pretty, though. Not like—

“I’m .”

“So I heard.” He pulls up an MRI report. “Are you taking care of the patient in twenty-three?”

I nod.

“She has an unstable Lisfranc injury. She’ll probably need surgery.”

Lisfranc? Isn’t that a foot thing?

“Oh. You’re ortho.” I sigh. “Shit.” The woman is thirty-eight weeks pregnant.

He laughs. “Indeed. I’ll talk to my attending. You talk to yours. We’ll make a plan.”

“Yeah, all right.”

He signs out of his computer and spins toward me. “Why don’t you give me your cell? It’ll be easier to coordinate that way.”

I blink. “It will? How?”

His lips roll inward as he tries and fails to hide a smile. He leans toward me. “I’m just trying to get your number.”

“Oh. Oh!” I ignore the flare of warmth across my cheeks and stutter out my number. Wait. Did I want him to have my number? Why am I so awkward? It’s like as soon as a stranger speaks to me, I lose all sense of myself and become a bottle of butterflies.

But it’s too late now. The dude has my number.

I scrutinize his face for any signs of preconceived notions. Has he heard the rumors about me? Does he believe them?

A squawk startles me. “Where’d that girl go?”

I leap to my feet to face Dr. LaShay. “Right here.”

She looks at me again like we’ve never met. “No. You’re Dr. Rose.”

I struggle to keep the smile on my face. “Yes. Sapphire Rose.”

“Oh. Well, come on. Dr. Echols is still busy.”

Waving a goodbye to Trevor, I follow LaShay to the OR. She may be crazy, but the woman lets me perform the whole surgery, barely touching an instrument herself. Small wins, right?

Afterward, I grin at the waiting text.

Trevor: It was nice to meet you Sapphire Rose. Maybe next time you’ll be able to tell I’m flirting with you.

Me: haha

Me: Maybe so

Do I want him to flirt with me, though? This new flirtation with Julian is all tingles and excitement. It’s natural. Easy. Flirting with someone else will still be as awkward as it always is.

But maybe…

Back at my apartment, I FaceTime with Mom and Dad before I grab my laptop and flashcards and head to Julian’s like we planned. My knock on his door is answered at once, but only wide enough to show his face.

“Oh hey. What’s up?”

I laugh at the sliver of him I can see and display my flashcards. “Didn’t we have plans to study tonight?”

“Oh—um—” He glances into his apartment, hesitating.

My shoulders fall. “Did I misremember?”

“Yeah.” He lowers his voice, words rushed. “Look. Maybe we can do it tomorrow. Would you mind?”

“No, that’s fine. Sorry I bothered you.” I glance at his hand white-knuckling the doorframe, suspicions forming. “Do—is there someone else in there?”

“Um—” he says at the same time I flush and say, “Sorry, that was rude. It’s not my business.”

“No, that’s not—”

A female voice interrupts him. “Julian, is someone here?”

Julian’s eyes flutter shut, and he lets out a slow breath. His hand goes slack on the door right before it’s jerked open by a girl.

Silky dark hair. Knockout body. She’s taller than me and my gaze falls to my feet as an overwhelming flood of embarrassment and jealousy threatens to drown me.

Wait. Jealousy?

No. That can’t be right.

It’s Saturday night. It only makes sense he’d be dating. Of course he brings girls to his apartment. Of course he doesn’t want to spend his free nights studying with the dorky girl downstairs.

I’m so stupid.

Before I can stop it, my subconscious swipes right over the image of him snuggling a baby, and my entire soul droops.

Your eggs are dying, my ovaries remind me, and throw crying emojis all over my mind.

Ridiculous. I’m only twenty-seven. I don’t even really want him! He’s just…pretty. Or something.

“Who’s this, BB?” The girl’s tone makes no sense. Instead of suspicion, she’s full of…triumph?

Julian sighs. “Can you just not do the thing that you’re about to do right now?”

“Whatever could you mean?” The girl’s hand clamps on my wrist and drags me inside the apartment.

I trip over the threshold, gripping my laptop and flashcards to my chest. My eyes meet Julian’s, then this stranger’s and a click takes place in my mind. The depthless eyes staring at me from this beautiful woman’s face are familiar.

She sticks her hand out. “I’m Tori Santini.”

Santini.

Joy fills to the brim, and an inexplicable fondness for this woman wakes inside me. “Oh.” I grasp her hand, masking my relief behind a bright smile. “. I’m Rose.”

Her eyes light up the same way her brother’s do and she switches her gaze to Julian. “This is Red Dress?”

I drop her hand. “You know about my dress?”

“Mmm.” She narrows her eyes at Julian. “I think you’ve been keeping secrets.”

Julian scowls. “We work together. We study together. That’s it.”

Oh. Well, that’s one way to put it…

We’re friends too, Julian.

And why did he tell her about my dress? Ugh. I wish I didn’t know that confusing crumb of information. Something’s sparking in my chest.

“Then why were you trying to hide her?” Tori flings herself on Julian’s couch.

“ This . This is why, Tor.” He turns to me. “I’m sorry. My sisters are nosy and she’s the worst of them. I forgot you were coming because she arrived unannounced .” He shoots a pointed glare at Tori.

She shrugs. “You know I don’t plan ahead, BB. Besides, if I warned you, then I wouldn’t get the pleasure of witnessing things like this.” She pats the couch beside her. “You can still study. Don’t mind me.”

My uncertain gaze meets Julian’s.

He rubs a hand over his face. “We’ll study another time, okay? It’s better this way. Trust me.”

My head bobs as I fight a nagging sense of disappointment.

He must see it though, because he dips his head, examining me closely. “What is it?”

The heat in my cheeks stirs again. Why must it always do that? “Oh, it’s just, I—I made you new flashcards.”

His lips twitch, and he raises a hand to cover his mouth. Humor gleams in his eyes.

“What?” I squeeze my laptop to my chest, hugging tight.

“You. You’re just so—”

“Cute?” Tori laser-focuses on Julian. “Adorable? Sweet?”

Julian’s in full-on predator-staring-contest mode with me. The darkness sparkles. “Dorky.”

Chagrin courses through me in the form of a full-body blush, though I’m not sure what else I was expecting him to say in front of his sister. So why am I sweating? Why is he still staring? Why has my heartbeat decided to drop to my uterus?

How does this man wake every impulse I’d buried six feet under a gravestone etched with the words Ice Queen ?

My libido is rising up like a starving zombie, and I need to figure out how to master it soon .

Hmm. I bet Julian could master it…

Ack! No!

My voice turns scratchy. “I think we’ve established we’re both dorks, but okay. I’ll go. You should visit with your sister. The flashcards can wait.”

“You really don’t have to go,” Tori says as I head to the door. “In fact, I insist you stay.”

“It’s fine. I’m tired, anyway. Long shift.”

“No, please stay.” Tori leaps up and grabs my arm. “We’ll watch Netflix. I’ll make Unicorn Blood. Everyone loves that, right?”

Unicorn Blood? A smile threatens, but I bite my lip.

Tori throws her hands up in victory. “Yes! She stays.” She grabs my laptop and flashcards, setting them on the table by the door, then takes my hands and leads me to the couch. Julian is subjected to the same manhandling. He’s placed directly beside me.

“Tori.” Julian’s voice holds a hint of threat.

“You’re welcome,” she says in a singsong voice and disappears into the kitchen.

I stare after her. “I think she thinks I’m into you.”

“No.” He sighs. “She thinks I’m into you .”

“Oh.” I should have worn shorts. The leggings were a bad choice for the constant heat flaring in my skin. “Should I tell her we’re sworn enemies?”

He snorts. “Don’t bother. She’ll just try harder. You really don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. She’ll be insufferable with the matchmaking all night.”

A small lock of hair has flung itself over his forehead, and I can’t resist the urge to push it back. My fingers thread through his hair before landing in my lap. “I don’t mind it if you don’t. Would you like me to stay?”

This man wields eye contact like a weapon. He can steal oxygen from my lungs with a single glance. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’d like you to stay.”

The smile that grows on my face is like quicksand—I sink into the joy, transfixed. “Why does she call you BB?”

Faint color washes over the bridge of his nose. “Oh. Um. It’s—nothing.”

Captivated by his stare, his nonanswer barely registers. This close, the amber hiding in the depths of his eyes flirts with my sanity. He leans in. Draws a breath.

“BB, where are the oranges?” Tori shouts from the kitchen.

His eyes fall shut and he pulls away. “I hate you, Victoria.”

I giggle.

Tori pokes her head around the corner, grinning. “I’m going to tell Mom you used the H word.”