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“We’ve been at this stop sign for about thirty seconds. Are you feeling alright?”
“Oh—yeah, just thinking about work,” I lied, gently pressing the gas pedal.
“You think about work a lot.”
“I do.”
“Workaholic?”
“I don’t really see it as work. It’s fun to me—I’m sure you can relate. I’m doing math all day, too…”
God, that sounded so lame. I sounded so lame…
Compared to Sam, I was boring. Just some soulless workaholic. Unable to talk about anything interesting. She was probably wishing she could just hop back on Sam’s dick right about now—
“Yeah, actually,” she said.
“What?!”
She jumped. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. Sorry, what were we talking about?”
Her eyebrows came together. “Doing math all day.”
“Right,” I said, hoping to smooth things over. God, I was blowing it.Blowingit!
Just like she’d been blowing Sam…
“Actually, I wanted to show you something,” Grace said with a grin.
Thank God, something else to talk about…
She leaned forward and rummaged through her purse, then pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper.
I let my eyes trace the smoothness of it; the perfection of the way she’d folded it. I’d bet money that she’d pressed it on her desk and ran some flat edge over the crease, just so it came out crisp.
I liked that.
I liked that a lot.
It was soothing to recognize that need for order and organization in someone else.
She opened the paper. The crease puckered and resisted.
That’s how you know it’s a good crease.
Goosebumps crawled up my arms.
God, I was such a fucking freak.
Grace pulled the paper open and showed me.
I glanced over and saw a detailed colored pencil sketch of a building composed of colorful candy.
“You drew that?” I asked, returning my eyes to the road.
“Yeah—I’ve had some time on my hands at my desk while my students are taking exams. I just sit at my desk and draw stuff sometimes…”
