“I’m here to check the security system,” he says, his judgment turning into annoyance.
“I didn’t report any issues,” I say.
“We’re doing a full sweep of all the systems in student and faculty campus housing. You should’ve received an email.”
“I… right. I haven’t looked at my phone yet this morning.” I offer a chagrined smile, then grab my phone from the kitchen counter. Sure enough, there’s an email from Trello about the security checks.
“Got it.” I invite him in and show him the setup. “Do what you need to do, sir.”
“Thank you, Miss Milan. I’ll be but a moment.”
“Would you like some tea?” I ask. Brits love their tea, don’t they?
“Thank you, no.”
I peek over his shoulder, watching as he plugs some kind of device into my security monitor. “What’s that for?”
“Just testing the video backup frequency. We need to ensure the system is running automatic backups every hour, should we need to review video footage later.”
“I see.”
Satisfied with the backup thing, he taps rapid-fire onto the screen, checking out some other settings I decide not to ask about because I won’t understand what the hell he’s talking about anyway.
“So, you’re from England?” I ask instead.
“Yes. And quite busy, as you can imagine.”
“Of course. Sorry.”
Not one for small talk, then. Okay, fine by me.
While Eastman deals with the rest of the security issues, I put on the kettle for tea, trying to decide what I want for breakfast. Truth be told, I could really go for a muffin and a latte right now, but I’m late enough as it is. I’ll have to try to fit in a café run after the library, before my Tarot Divination class.
Before I even make up my mind on the tea options, Eastman is packing up his tech gear and wishing me a good day.
“Do I need to learn any new procedures?” I ask.
“No, not at all. I’ve simply reinforced the magickal identification system with a few upgrades. All of your presets have been saved, and the entry and lockup procedures are the same. We are, however, advising everyone to periodically review that video footage, even if you don’t suspect any tampering. We can’t be too careful.”
“Of course. Thank you, Mr. Eastman.”
I show him out, glad to be free from his overbearing energy. I appreciate his dedication to his job and to keeping us safe, but from now on, I’d prefer he do it from a nice, long distance.
I’m just about to return to the tea-and-breakfast dilemma when my door chimes again—Kirin, my actual date. Well, not date. We’re not using that word. Appointment. My appointment. Nice and non-sexy, like a gyno visit.
“Good morning,” I say as I open the door, and Kirin beams, his eyes lighting up behind his glasses, and my stomach goes a little fizzy and a single, stupid thought strikes my mind.
If my gyno actually smiled at me like that, I’dnevermiss an appointment. In fact, I’d schedule one every month, and get on the waitlist for cancellations…
“Stevie?”
“Yes, Doctor? I mean… Kirin! Hi! Come on in.” I stand aside as he enters, waiting for my common sense to return from its obvious vacation. It reminds me of our Kettle Black days, back when his mere presence turned me into an Olympic-level competitor in the events of Babbling Like an Idiot and Blinking Rapidly Like a Deer in Headlights. Who Also Has Allergies.
“Sorry I’m running so late,” I say, a little breathless. “I overslept… I was just trying to figure out breakfast. Hungry?”
Still smiling, Kirin holds up a to-go tray of coffee cups and a brown paper bag. “I brought muffins and—”
“Is that coffee?” Baz asks, stepping out of the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel and a still-wet six-pack of very sexy, very lickable abs.
