Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Back on campus after the conference, Will meets me in the library to begin preparing our presentations. We lay out pages of our notes, put together a plan, and set to work.
Our knees bump under the table almost immediately. Neither of us moves or acknowledges it. It’s accidental. A mistake.
It’s also not.
It’s all business between us suddenly, like the escape room and that night never even happened. Like we didn’t almost cross a line we’ve been pretending doesn’t exist for years. Like I didn’t feel his mouth inches from mine. Like he didn’t look at me as if he was deciding something irreversible.
Like I didn’t want him to.
Whenever he leans over to read my notes, his shoulder brushes mine, and each time, I stop breathing for a few seconds. At first, it’s frustration. Anger. Then it’s…something else. Yet he always goes on pretending he doesn’t notice.
“You’re wrong about section three,” Will says quietly. He doesn’t look at me when he says it. He just slides my notebook back toward me, fingers grazing mine in a way that feels charged, like we’re both seconds away from…
What exactly?
“Am I?” I don’t pull my hand away.
Neither does he.
“Yes.” His thumb brushes lightly over my knuckle before he lets go. Everything in me ignites. Electric.
I hold his gaze a second too long. “Guess I was a little tired when I was compiling those notes. I’d had a long night.”
He stills. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I shrug, turning the page in my notebook. “The asshole next door had a noisy sleepover.” My tone sounds casual. Almost bored.
It is neither.
He leans back in his chair. “Funny. That asshole waited for someone who never showed up.”
My fingers tighten around my pencil. “Really? Glad she was so interchangeable then.”
He puffs out a breath of disbelief. “Interchangeable.”
“Just saying. Clearly you had fun. Good for you.”
“You can’t seriously be mad.”
I copy down a section of his notes onto my page. His eyes follow my every move. “I’m just happy we all had a great time. Clearly, whoever you were waiting for would’ve been a huge mistake. Sounds like you both realized it, and…and it all worked out.”
Something changes in the way he’s looking at me. “Maybe she could’ve said that rather than making people wait for her.”
“Right. Because it really sounded like…people…waited.”
He leans forward, his voice so low no one else can hear. “I did.” Our eyes catch. “I waited, Opal. Until it was clear you weren’t coming.”
“And then you made other arrangements. Logically. Because neither of us have phones.”
He just looks at me, eyes searching mine for answers I don’t have. Because the truth is, I don’t know why I’m upset. I didn’t want him to wait, and somehow, it’s worse that he did. I wanted to be mad at him. And this is harder because I’m not so sure I can be.
His jaw tics. “Why do you even care? It wasn’t like we were going to end up… You weren’t coming to my room after.”
I choke back a laugh. “So that makes it better? You were just planning to kill time with me until someone you actually wanted to sleep with came along? Why waste your time?”
His eyes move over my face, then…slowly, something behind his expression brightens. “You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous. I’m tired. Because you two kept me up all night with the porn you were apparently making.”
His eyes flare. “I told you I don’t get complaints, didn’t I?”
My lips press together. “No one needs to be that loud.”
His mouth quirks. “Keep telling yourself that. Let me know if you ever care to be proven wrong.”
“You wish.”
“Kinda sounds like you wish.”
The air between us is thick now. Hot. Dangerous.
“There are my star students, hard at work.”
Ice water douses my skin.
Professor Gene approaches our table, his arms full of books. Will and I break apart as if we’ve been caught in the middle of something. “How was the conference? Did you come back loaded with knowledge?”
“Oh, yeah,” Will says, adjusting the pages in front of him.
“Absolutely,” I lie, breathless.
His lips turn up, rosy cheeks lifting. “I have to say, I couldn’t have chosen better student volunteers this semester.
You know, I always wanted to take on two people, but the idea that they wouldn’t get along or would argue about who was in charge held me back from it for years.
But now that it seems you’ve become friends, I almost wish I’d done it sooner. ”
“Yep,” Will says, throwing an arm around my shoulders.
He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls me in like he’s done it a thousand times, like he has the right.
“Best friends, right, Opal?” His finger runs over my arm rhythmically, slowly, venturing dangerously close to touching my breast. Under the table, he taps his foot.
I almost stiffen, but force my muscles to relax instead. Two can play this game. I lean into him, snuggling against his warmth like it’s totally normal—as if I have every right to be here.
“Truly,” I lie through my teeth.
My hand rests next to my cheek, fingers splayed across his hard chest.
He flicks a glance my way, clearly shaken. His heart kicks erratically under my palm, and as he realizes I must feel it, his fingers flex against my arm, like he’s restraining himself.
He applies just enough pressure to make my pulse spike as he turns his head toward me again slightly. His scent is cool and earthy, like the air just after it storms. I hate that I know it by heart. In any room.
Gene looks past us, his eyes locking on someone in the distance. “Ah, I should run. But you guys keep up the good work, okay? Can’t wait to see those presentations.”
And with that, he’s gone.
Will’s head turns more, far enough that his lips brush my temple.
I turn too, the moment stretching and expanding as my eyes lift. My chin tips up. His breathing hitches, turning shaky.
His nose brushes mine. Too close.
Slowly, his free hand moves a strand of my hair. His fingers skate over my neck like he’s forgotten where we are. His hand moves to tilt my chin up just a notch more.
If either of us speaks, our lips will touch.
He’s watching me, daring me to stop him, and I should. My fingers pulse against his chest, and lazily, his eyes start to close.
Without warning, Will drops his arm off me, releasing my chin and pulling away. I shudder.
What the—
We just stare at each other for several beats.
My voice trembles from my pounding heart when I finally speak. “You don’t…have to touch me every time someone says we’re friends, you know. It’s not a reflex test.”
“Noted.” His jaw tightens, and he turns away. He’s already back to work.
Silence stretches. I’m the one watching him this time.
“You’re good at that,” I say, picking up my pencil at last.
He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “At what?”
“Pretending.”
The word hangs between us.
His eyes darken a shade. “Isn’t that what we’re both doing?”
Someone pulls out a seat at our table, tearing through our heavy fog, and when I look up, it’s Banks. The timing feels almost laughably cruel.
“Hey, you,” he says, reaching for my hand. His thumb skates over my knuckle in a way that feels like it’s the most natural thing in the world, though it’s entirely new. I wait for the lightning, but it never comes. Will is watching me too closely not to notice. He rests his mouth on his fist.
I put all my focus into Banks. “Hey.”
“Excited about tonight?”
I don’t dare look at Will, but I can feel his attention shift. Sharpen.
“Very.” The word slams onto the table, a choice made.
Will draws in a sharp breath next to me. He adjusts the papers in front of him again, edging away just a hair, but enough that I feel it.
“Cool. Well, I was just on my way to a meeting. I’ll pick you up at six, okay?
” Banks stands, and when I look up to say goodbye, he presses a kiss to my lips.
His hands remain at his sides, though mine instinctively reach for him.
When he pulls back, they land on the table without ever making contact.
He doesn’t look away from me as he says, “Nice to see you again, Will.”
Will gives Banks a polite nod. A small, distant smile. “You too.” His eyes are sort of lost. Unfocused.
Banks pushes the chair in, and with another brush of my hand, he disappears around one of the bookshelves.
Will doesn’t say a word, just returns his focus to his notes.
His pencil moves steadily, no hesitation.
For nearly an hour, we work in silence.
Then, voice so low I almost don’t hear him, he says, “Six, huh?” He still doesn’t look up. He might not even be talking to me.
“Um. Yep.”
He nods once. Barely. “Have fun, Opie.”
“I’ll try.” The answer is unexpectedly honest, and I want to make a joke, but somehow, this time, I’m at a loss.