CHAPTER 35 #2
His jaw shifted, eyes narrowed with an amused appraisal. He crossed his arms, and stared down at me, his muscles really working the fabric of the poor shirt that clung to him for dear life. “While I’m intrigued, I’m not at liberty to speak on this matter. And I’d appreciate no more inquiries.”
He was intrigued?
By what? The fact that Andrea wasn’t a tourist? Or had I actually chipped a small divot in that steely exterior?
“Then, just a general question about the organism itself. I swear it’ll be my last.”
“What’s your question?”
“Are there any cases of delayed symptoms? As in, over the course of years?”
“ Years ? No. The parasite settles in quickly.”
Just as I recalled from lecture, but I wanted to confirm. “So they don’t go into a latency phase, or something?”
He shook his head, stuffing a stack of papers into his bag.
“Not that I’ve observed. The eggs do have a tough outer coating, like spores that allow them to resist hostile environments, such as extremely cold temperatures, for example.
” The fact that the small bit of skin peeking between the top two unclasped buttons of his shirt could distract me even a little bit was a testament to the man’s allure.
The tone of his voice, his extensive knowledge, it was easy to get lost in his words.
“But they eventually infect when conditions are favorable–and they are quite favorable in a human.”
Which really didn’t make sense where my mother was concerned.
There was never a time throughout my childhood that I recalled my mother having had so much as a bad head cold, up until she’d gotten extremely ill four years ago.
What had triggered her infection? Did it have anything to do with the Crixson Project?
There just didn’t seem to be enough evidence pointing me there.
“Have I answered your endless stream of questions?”
Not really, but I didn’t want to annoy him with the barrage still kicking around inside my head. After all, the objective was to flirt, not piss him off. “Yes. Thank you.”
When he hoisted his leather bag over his head, crossing it over his chest, I caught a glimpse of the scar on his neck, reminding me the man had little reason to trust any of the students at the school, particularly a first year like me.
He’d been branded, both physically and by rumor, thickening his armor.
Making him harder to crack. That he bothered to entertain my questions at all was surprising.
“Stay out of trouble, Curious Moth,” he said, as he strode for the door.
Curious Moth.
A nickname.
A fitting one, too, given the fact that I had no intentions of avoiding the flame.
* * *
“H ey, smarty pants. Way to make me look bad,” Spencer said, as he hustled to catch up to me after class.
“I can’t make you look bad. Only you hold the power.” I chuckled, pushing my bag up onto my shoulder.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Bramwell?”
“What?”
“Like … the way he looks at you in class. It’s weird.”
“He probably just noticed that I was kind of drifting off.”
“Nah. It’s something else. Like, guy body language. I can pick up on that shit.”
I snorted at that, trying to imagine how those heated and heavy glances might’ve looked to Spencer. “Is that the same as mansplaining?”
“I’d just be care–”
“Careful. Yes. I’m very careful. What is it with the warnings?”
“Has someone warned you against me?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“Who? Mel?”
I ground to a halt. While I didn’t really need another round of drama thrown in my lap, particularly when it neither involved me, nor had happened during my time at the university, perhaps I could clear some of the questions in my head. “What about Mel?” I asked, playing dumb.
Cheeks puffed, he blew out a breath and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I got drunk. I kissed her. She got squirrely when I didn’t want anything to do with her, so she made up some story that I assaulted her. I get it, the kiss went too far, but nothing else happened.”
“Why would she make that up? Why would any woman?”
“I’ve known Mel for a couple years now. All I can tell you is, she’s not running on all cylinders.”
I groaned and started toward my next class. “Right. She must be psycho.”
A grip of my arm brought me to a stop, before Spencer released me. “That’s not what I’m saying. Stories are her thing. She likes to stir up conspiracy theories and dirt on everyone. I guarantee, if you piss her off? She’ll go digging up shit on you, too.”
“Yet, you both agree that Dr. Bramwell had something to do with Jenny Harrick. If that’s true, why take his class?”
“Because I need the credit for my degree. No other reason. And believe me, it isn’t easy to sit in a class when you suspect someone of something like that.
I try to see him as innocent, because I know that my friend was wrong for what he did in retaliation.
But the way he interacts with you?” Frowning, he shook his head.
“It makes me question things all over again.”
“His interactions haven’t been at all inappropriate.” Not obviously so, anyway. Except when he’d cursed in the library. “But I don’t need you hawking me, either. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not trying to be disrespectful here. On the contrary. I think of you as a friend, Lilia. That’s all.”
“Is that all?” As he opened his mouth, I interrupted, “Because I’m not interested in a relationship beyond that.”
His mouth clamped shut and he cleared his throat. “I understand. Are we still on for tomorrow night?”
Swallowing hard, I forced myself to not look surprised that I’d been caught off guard. “Tomorrow night?”
“The Charity Ball?”
“Oh. Right.” I couldn’t back out when he’d likely already paid for the dress. “Sure. As friends, right?”
“Definitely.”
Damn it.