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Scars of Anatomy

Page 81

by Nicole Alfrine

“Bronx.” The slight whine in her voice tells me she’s about to argue with me.

“I’m not going anywhere until you get in this bed,” I tell her with finality.

She huffs, jutting out her bottom lip in a disapproving pout. Regardless, she crawls into bed with me, laying her head on my chest.

“Get some rest, Finch,” I say, stroking her hair, her signature vanilla scent surrounding me like a warm blanket.

She snuggles into my chest and closes her eyes. She falls asleep quickly, but I wait an hour to make sure she stays asleep, her breathing deep and even.

Watching her sleep, I realize, is the best fucking thing in the world. She looks so soft and peaceful, and the little snores from her stuffed-up nose are surprisingly adorable.

Reluctantly, when the clock strikes midnight, I slowly move out from under her and crawl out of bed, being extremely careful not to wake her. I’d stay the night with her in a heartbeat, but I’m not sure how her parents would feel about finding me in her bed the next morning. I feel like I’m in a really good place with them right now, and I don’t want to fuck that up.

Before I leave I make sure she’s comfortable and situated one last time. Kissing her forehead, I turn off her bedside lamp and slip on my shoes before climbing out the window and heading back to Chase’s truck.

Twenty-six

Nap

Friday morning, I walk down the hall of the science building after my biology class. I pass the room where Olivia teaches Professor Cooper’s lab and instinctively look inside, stopping in my tracks when I spot her.

The classroom is empty as she sits on top of the front lab bench cross-legged, consumed by the binder resting on her lap as she munches on a granola bar. She must have just finished teaching her class—even though I told her she should stay home another day to rest. But a part of me knew she wouldn’t listen.

Thankfully, she followed doctor’s orders yesterday and stayed home. Delilah and I made sure of it with Mission: Make Sure Olivia Doesn’t Dare Step Foot on Campus. We made a pact that if either of us saw her in any of her classes yesterday we’d send her ass right back home to rest.

Frowning, I walk into the classroom, and she looks up at me from her binder, giving me a half smile, half grimace. She knows my stance on her coming to classes today.

“I thought you were skipping today?” I say, coming to stand in front of her. I rest my hands on the counter on each side of her, bracketing her legs.

“I was going to, but the other TA said she couldn’t fill in for me. I couldn’t just leave the class hanging this close to finals,” she explains.

“So what I’m hearing are excuses,” I say, a teasing lilt to my voice. “Did you talk to Professor Cooper about it?”

“No, I didn’t want to bother her,” she says lamely, refusing to meet my gaze because she knows it’s a bad excuse, and that I’m not going to let her off that easily.

“Finch,” I groan, exasperated.

I gently grab her chin, making her tilt her head up to look at me. I examine her face; her soft features are livelier than they were the other day. The bags under her eyes have noticeably reduced and she has more color to her complexion, but I can tell she’s still not 100 percent. Looking at her, getting lost in her eyes, I almost forget what I’m mad at her for. Almost.

“You have to take care of yourself,” I remind her. “I’m sure Professor Cooper could have scrounged up another TA to teach in your place.”

“But—”

“No buts,” I cut her off.

I hear a slight crinkling noise and look down to spot the granola bar in her hand. I pluck it from her grasp, finding the generic honey and oats bar only half eaten.

“What’s this?” I ask, flashing her the wrapper.

“Uh, breakfast?” she says, confused.

I lean to my left and spot the trash can on the floor at the end of the lab bench, and toss the granola bar inside.

“Hey,” Olivia whines, a cute little pout forming on her face.

“Come on, Finch,” I say, leaning over to grab her backpack. “You need real breakfast, not that junk.”

I grab the binder in her lap and pack it away inside her bag. Despite her protests I pick her up off the counter and set her on her feet before grabbing her hand and leading her to the truck.