He holds up his hands in surrender, but he’s still grinning like an idiot. “What did you say?”
“That I’d think about it.”
“You’re actually considering it?” The amusement fades from his face. “Seriously?”
I lean against the counter, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t have many options here.”
“Since when do you need a girlfriend?”
“It’s complicated. My family is visiting.”
Freddie starts packing his chicken into containers, thinking. “And Tara’s just... cool with this?”
“She said she could handle it.” I remember the determined set of her jaw, the way she’d looked at me like it was all just some fun game. “Said she’s dealt with worse.”
“Right.” Freddie’s eyes narrow. “You know Troy’s going to lose his shit when he finds out.”
Fuck. I hadn’t even thought about that part. How had I forgotten that? Tara’s brother might literally kill me if he finds out, he’s very protective over who dates his little sister, and has made it very clear that none of us “clowns” are good enough for her.
“We wouldn’t actually be dating.”
“You think that distinction matters to Troy?” He starts wiping down the counter. “Remember when that senior asked about her last year? Pretty sure the guy’s still in therapy.”
He’s right. Troy’s protective streak when it comes to Tara isintense.
“Besides,” Freddie adds, “you really think you could pull it off?Pretendingwith Tara?”
Something in his tone makes me look up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” But he’s got that knowing look that makes me want to throw something at him. “Just that fake dating usually works better when you’re not actually?—”
“Shut up.”
“Right.” He holds up his hands again.
“I’m going out.”
“Where to?”
“Out.” I slam the door behind me.
The BMW M4purrs to life - it was a gift from my Gran. You could argue it’s too flashy for a student, but even I have to admit I love the way she purrs. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a nice car. And this baby? She is beautiful.
At least I’m not like Drake with his collection - the guy’s got four cars, one for summer, one for winter, one for “special occasions,” and then what he calls his “fun car.”
Campus is quiet this time of night, street lamps casting long shadows across empty sidewalks. I drive without thinking, muscle memory taking me down familiar roads until the buildings thin out and the stars become visible through my windshield. The car responds to every slight touch, hugging the curves perfectly. Okay, fine, maybe Gran knew exactly what she was doing when she insisted I take it.
My phone buzzes. Kinsey’s name lights up the screen. Of course, she’s still in the lab—she makes my workaholic tendencies look amateur.
“What’s wrong?” I answer, because Kinsey doesn’t call unless something’s wrong.
“The microchemical analysis from the calcium samples is showing some really bizarre patterns.” Hervoice has a tight quality. “Like, really bizarre. You need to see this.”
I check the time. 9:27 PM. “Can it wait until morning?”
“The cores are degrading faster than we predicted. If we don’t document this now...” She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to.
These samples are everything - months of work, the cornerstone of my CalTech application, Professor Hammond’s reputation. If something’s gone wrong...
