Chapter 63
TRISTAN
“The evolution of ethics in robots on screen. Oh look. Afrofuturism in film, literature, and design. I would so take that.” Katie sinks her teeth into her lip as she flips to the next page of the course guide and I sip a coffee next to her.
My body is buzzing and my heart is full. Students dart looks at us, guys occasionally checking her out and elbowing their friends. I loop an arm around her shoulders and raise my brows at a blond guy who’s staring at her. He gives me a small smile and a shrug.
“Tristan, look. They have a class called sabermetrics. Like a class about the physics of lightsabers.” She laughs happily.
“I’d take that.”
She curls into my side and I readjust my hand so it claims her hip. “I’d take any of these. I don’t know how people pick. I would never sleep. I’d just go to as many classes as possible.”
I chuckle. “I picked based on what seemed easy and if there were hot girls taking it.”
She pokes me in the side but she’s laughing now.
“I would have totally hit on you in college.”
She snorts. “Unlikely. You know how many girls have checked you out since we got here?”
I raise my brows. “Probably about as many as guys who’ve nearly asked for your number.”
Her mismatched eyes widen. “No way.”
“Yes, Bailey.” I press a hard kiss to her lips. “If you go here, I’m going to be your bodyguard. I’ll come to all your classes, and any guy who asks for your number will get a stern talking to.”
She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s pleased. “It’s so bad, but—I like belonging to you.” She fiddles with the edge of the course guide, her cheeks pink, her frame swallowed by my old sweatshirt.
I like it so much. I love it. I love her. And I’ll do anything to make her happy. I press another kiss to her lips, enjoying the way she sighs and melts. I want to kiss her until she forgets we’ve ever been anything but made for each other.
“Been waiting for you to catch up, Katie, baby.”
We’re nearly back at the estate, and my stomach is jumping with nerves. I clear my throat. Katie is paging through a Brown course catalog and carefully dog-earing the pages with courses she likes. She’s creased nearly every page, and I barely contain my laughter.
I clear my throat again, and she blinks up at me. “Sorry. What?”
“I need you to change when we get home.” I tip my head toward the outfits in the car. She flicks them a glance before her mouth parts. “What are you doing, Tristan?”
My hands tighten on the wheel. “Something I should have done long ago.”