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“There’s a coffee cart over there.” Forty minutes later, our hour is nearly up. Ambrose has quizzed me on three chapters, tossing questions about asteroids, comets and gravity in my direction, then nodding with satisfaction each time I bat them back with a solid answer. He’s sitting less stiffly than when he first arrived, legs stretched out long and crossed at the ankle, propped up on one elbow to read.
It’sintimate. Lying with another person on this picnic blanket; feeling the same breeze play over my cheeks that just ruffled Ambrose’s hair. The solid warmth of his body near mine has its own special kind of gravity, sucking me closer, and every time Ambrose swigs from his bottled lemonade, I watch his throat shift like it’s the best movie ever.
Now Ambrose squints in the direction I’m pointing. “A coffee cart? Where?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but I’m haunted by the look this man gave the counter in the Brainy Bean last week. The sheer longing in his eyes—it torments me.
Did Ambrose ever get his coffee? Why does he deny himself like that? And would he… would he ever look atmethat way?
Like he’s going insane without me.
Like he might die without a taste.
“By that tree.” Food packets crinkle as I sit up, careful to guard my dress against the breeze. “Shall I get us some?”
“I—no.” Suddenly flustered, Ambrose tugs at his rolled shirtsleeves. “No, thank you. I’ve given it up.”
“Coffee?”How? Most students have more coffee than blood in their veins, and grad students are the worst of all. They’reallhooked, flocking around the Brainy Bean like caffeine-addicted vampires, barely even human before they get their first sip.
“Yes.” Ambrose stops fiddling and turns to me, desperate and haunted. “But it’s not going well. Distract me please, Lane.”
Oh! Um, sure.
“I want kissing lessons,” I blurt, wincing as a red-hot blush stains my cheeks. Bye bye, dignity—it was nice while it lasted. “For our next session.”
Ambrose blinks.
“I was going to find a better way of asking. A smoother way.”
He blinks again.
“But you wanted a distraction and I panicked.” And now I want to die. Where’s a handy black hole when you need one? “In my defense, I understand Astrophysics, but I have zero clue about kissing. I’ve never even tried it. So you’d actually be teaching me something I need to learn, instead of…”
My words trail off weakly.
Ambrose hasn’t moved an inch.
My stomach churns as I wait there in silence, shifting awkwardly on the picnic blanket. Eventually, when it’s clear it might get dark while we’re still out here, staring at each other, I prod his shoulder. He’s toned under that shirt.
“Yes,” Ambrose says, jolting back to life and shaking his head. “I mean, no. No. Sorry. I can’t, Lane… that would be… it would… I couldn’t…”
It’s his turn to trail off, and I’d curl up into a ball and wither of embarrassment right here—if it weren’t for the way his gaze keeps dropping down to my mouth. Ambrose clears his throat, and his tortured eyes dart back to me over and over.
Down to my lips, then away.
To my lips, then away.
To my lips, then to a spot above my left ear.
My uptight tutor doesn’t know where to look, but he keeps coming back to my mouth. He’s tempted. He’s actually tempted.
“Never mind,” I say sweetly, offering him another grape. “It was a silly suggestion. We can talk Astrophysics next time too.”
Ambrose nods, tugging at his collar. His voice is wrecked. “Good. That’s a better idea, Lane.”
He doesn’t sound happy about it. Smoothing down my dress, I hide a smile.
Four
