“I—I have an interview.”
“For what.”
That wasn’t a question.
It was a demand. Apparently, I found that hot too.
“A job,” I said.
Henry’s brows lifted just slightly, and he pinned me with a look that readno shit. “Explain, Archibald.”
Archibald.
I missedRabbit.
“It’s for a position in the central mailing room.”
His hand left my temple.
My first instinct was to grab it—just shove it into my pocket or something and keep it there forever.
Super normal, Archie.
And then, just as quickly as it vanished, it found me again.
Steady fingers curled under my chin, his thumb sliding along the line of my jaw. Lifting my chin, his eyes touched down on mine with a level focus that shut everything else out.
“You’re replacing your assistantship,” he said, “with a mailroom job.”
“I’m notreplacingit. I’m going to do both.”
“The hell you will.”
My stomach dropped, then flipped again when his hand didn’t move.
“They cut my funding.”
He jerked. “I’m sorry?”
“I just need enough hours to cover my half of the rent and food. That’s it.”
His grip shifted, catching my wrist.
“I won’t let it interfere.” I shook my head. “I won’t. I know what this job is, and I want it—I mean, I already have it, but I’m not going to screw it up. I’ll do the hours at night, or early mornings, or whenever they need me. I can manage it.”
My breath hit halfway and stalled, forcing me to push the next sentence out around it.
“I don’t need a lot. I can keep it simple. Ramen’s fine. Boxed mac and cheese is fine. I’ve done it before, it’s not?—”
“You will not eat boxed mac and cheese every day.”
I blinked. “Wh-what?”
“Do you know how much sodium is in that? Do you know what that does to your body when it’s consistent?”
Was he… serious right now?
“It’s cheap,” I said. “That’s kind of the point.”
