Page 56 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

“I told you not to do that.” He practically growled at me, his voice low and deep. The sound ignited a mini explosion low in my belly.

“Pick up the papers?”

He swallowed visibly before speaking. “Bite your lip,” he said, so low that I had to lean in to hear.

“Oh.”

Oh.

Well, that was notable. He was looking at my lips.

My eyes dropped to his mouth. He wasn’t smiling anymore. The muscles in his jaw flexed, and a vein in his temple was pulsing. My mouth felt dry, and I swallowed.

“Is that one of the rules now?”

“Yes,” he said before abruptly standing from his seat and striding out of the library.

Jack left me with a lot to think about as I walked back to the quiet of my apartment. I was in no mood to sit in the crowded cafeteria. But I knew one thing for sure—if he wanted me to stop biting my lip, then he could pry it out of my teeth himself.

I kind of hoped he would.

Chapter 18

Parents Day

After a week of testing out Jack’s conversational method, I felt like I was finally getting the hang of it. While it was a little uncomfortable the first few days, once I got going, it felt as natural as breathing. And if there was ever a lag in the conversation—if the students looked like they were drifting away—that’s what the pop bottles were for.

I used the strange tool tentatively in my first couple of lessons, but had grown bolder after a few days of practice. David Masterson would never sleep in my class again.

Even if I didn’t get this job, Jack had given me a gift that I could use anywhere. I would take his methods, blend them with my own personal style, and make something new that was just mine.

I wanted to thank him for his help, but I didn’t have the slightest idea how to go about doing that. He was no longer hostile to me, but he continued to be standoffish. In the brief time between classes, he would politely ask how things were going before hurrying to set up for his own lessons. I rarely saw more than glimpses of him outside of class—running with the cross-country team or laughing with Alan over a cafeteria table.

Perhaps that was the answer—I could enlist Alan’s help. He would know what Jack liked, and then I could leave a little thank-you surprise outside his apartment.

Alan, it turned out, was ecstatic to tell me all about Jack when I caught him on his way out of dinner one evening.

“But seriously, you must have realized Jack is a huge nerd. He likes long runs on the beach, staying up all night discussing Star Wars fan theories, sharing a LEGO set by candlelight…”

“Oh, stop. He does not.” I laughed and slapped Alan on the arm.

“Well, no, not really. Building LEGOs by candlelight would be murder on the eyes. You really need a well-lit space for that. But the rest is all true.” He placed one hand over his heart and held up the other as if swearing an oath.

On the surface it was one of the stranger and less productive conversations I’ve had, but there were a few usable nuggets in the ramble.

I already knew Jack liked running, but a running-related gift didn’t feel very personal. I knew a little about Star Wars through Silvia who was a huge Adam Driver fan, but not enough to pick something meaningful for him. That left LEGO. LEGO actually seemed like a perfect option. It was thoughtful and whimsical and not as generic as a bottle of wine—which I had considered before talking to Alan.

A quick search online and I found exactly what I was looking for, and I ordered it for next day delivery. I smiled to myself as I keyed out a message to Silvia letting her know the latest.

Silvia: Let me get this straight - first you practically hook up with him, then you have a study date, and now you’re buying him gifts?? Are you sure you’re not dating???

I scowled at my phone. We’d already been over this.

Mel: It’s not like that. It’s completely professional.

Silvia: No definition of professional includes his tongue down your throat.

Mel: There were extenuating circumstances.