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“I need another lesson.” No point in any preamble. I’m an addict, and I’m jonesing for another fix. “Tonight.”
A sharp breath crackles down the line. Weaving around a group of students laughing together outside the Brainy Bean, I march across campus like a woman on a mission, my sneakers smacking against the sidewalks.
Never mind my clammy palm where it grips my phone. Never mind the bruised sky, warning of an oncoming storm. I don’t draw a breath until Ambrose answers.
“It’s Sunday evening.”
That’s not a no. Raking my free hand through my hair, I tug on a fistful until the roots sting. “Will you come?”
There’s a long pause. “To talk about Astrophysics?”
My laugh sounds jittery and weird. “What doyouthink, Ambrose Brent?”
Silence down the line. My thighs burn as I march across campus toward my dorm, pigeons fluttering out of my path at the last possible second.
Then, when I’m ready to fling my phone overarm into the nearest trash can: “…Alright. Where?”
Oh, thank god.
I rattle off my address, and Ambrose repeats it back to me, his tone crisp. The line beeps as it goes dead, and I don’t know if I want to laugh or scream or run down the street whooping.
But I do know I want a shower before he arrives.
An icy cold shower, and five minutes with my fingers to get this crawlingneedunder control. Otherwise I’ll pounce on my tutor like a maniac.
Clutching my phone in my clammy palm, I speed up into a jog, dress swishing around my legs.
* * *
It occurs to me the second I get home: college dorms are not exactly glamorous. The music blasting from three different open doors; the laughter spilling from the common area; the steam wafting from the shared bathroom. Someone’s dropped a single clean sock from their laundry, and it lies in the middle of the corridor carpet, forlorn.
When I burst through our door, my roommate Eden blinks at me from her side of the room. She’s cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by paper handouts for some class, headphones looped around her slender neck.
“Where’s the fire?” she asks.
Steam curls from a bowl on her nightstand—beef flavored instant noodles. Oh god, I have zero right to kick her out, but if I don’t get some alone time with Ambrose, I might burst into tears.
“Sorry,” I say, standing awkwardly in the doorway and squeezing the doorknob. “Sorry. This is such a jerk thing to ask, especially when you’re eating, but… my tutor is coming over, and I… we need…”
Eden arches one eyebrow. She’s my opposite in a lot of ways: tall, beanpole slim, with long dark hair nearly down to her waist.But we clicked at our very first meeting, and I seriously won the roommate jackpot with this girl.
“Some alone time?” she prompts.
“Yes. Please. Sorry. You’re the best.”
“Mhm.” Long legs unfold and Eden gathers her papers together, smirking at me from behind the curtain of her dark hair. “I’ll clear out, but on one condition.”
Anything. “Yeah?”
“You give me all the details later.” Eden winks as she slides off the bed, papers clutched in one hand. She scoops up her ramen bowl with the other. “You know, I think you’re onto something with theselessons.I should find a tutor of my own. I can’t even speak to the guy I like without freezing up.”
She pauses, frowning at the carpet, and I fight the urge to hurry her along. My roommate’s already clearing out of here; the least I can do is listen when she confides in me.
“But you seem so confident.”
Eden snorts. “Inhere, sure. But I know you, and I know all the girls in this dorm. Out there… around this guy…”
Men are a different beast, that’s for sure—but most of them aren’t worth stressing over. Not like Ambrose.
