Page 33 of Head Under Water

He doesn’t move for a beat too long. Then he steps away and makes himself at home on the bed closest to the door like nothing happened.

I drop my bag on the bed near the window and unpack it, spreading the food out before sitting down to dig in.

“How was your session?” he asks, flipping through the channels.

“Predictable,” I say, and he smiles when he gets the joke.

“Mine was cool. I’ve always imagined I’ll do something with insurance, an actuary or something, but it was interesting to hear about the different jobs available.”

“You want to work in statistics?” Why didn’t I know that? “I thought you were going to school for business.”

“I don’t know what I want to do yet. That’s what I was talking to Gene about. I’ve always liked numbers, and I’m a wizard with an Excel sheet, so it seems like a decent path.”

I stare at him, shocked. Will reads occasionally. Mostly fantasy stuff. He’s constantly on his computer. Or gaming. But I’ve never thought of him as particularly nerdy, at least not since he gave up the glasses for contacts in fourth grade.

“Are you…secretly smart, Will Kendricks?” I pop a fry into my mouth, watching him.

He glares at me. “Nothing secret about it, believe it or not. If you paid any attention to me at all, you’d know that.”

“You get far too much attention as it is. It’s my job to keep you grounded.” I wrinkle my nose in his direction. “And anyway, if you’re so smart, then why do you need to volunteer? You’re good at this stuff. I suck at it.”

“Because I still need to impress whatever program I try to get into. I can’t just be good.” His jaw tightens. “I need to be the best.”

I roll my eyes, kicking off my shoes and scooting farther back on the bed.

“So how’s Banksy-poo?” Will asks. “You two set a date for the wedding yet?”

I keep my eyes on my dinner, refusing to look his way. “It just kills you that someone actually likes me, doesn’t it?”

“So he does like you? I was right.”

I can’t help it, I snap my gaze up to glare at him. “Believe it or not, yes. He does. In fact, he’s taking me out when we get home.”

His smile falters. It’s quick—almost invisible—but I see it. The light in his eyes dims before he forces it back. “So, I guess I’ll have to start calling you teacher’s pet.” He fixes his eyes on the TV.

I take a bite of my burger, sneering at him. “He’s not my teacher.”

“But he is a teacher.”

“He’s a teaching assistant, Will. Please stop pretending they’re the same thing.”

He shrugs, crossing his arms loosely over his chest, remote still gripped in one hand. “Whatever. If you want to have boring teacher sex all your life, don’t let me stand in your way.”

My cheeks heat. “Our sex will not be boring.”

He goes very still. The chatter from the TV fills the silence, his gaze locked straight ahead.

“Oh?” he says, so softly I barely hear it.

His head turns toward me. His eyes drop to my mouth. Slowly. Deliberately. Like he wants to see my response rather than hear it. He lifts his chin with defiance. “You think he knows what to do with you, Opal?”

“Maybe I’m the one who knows what to do with him.”

His gaze snaps back to mine. Something sharp flickers there. No longer teasing or playful.

After a few quiet minutes, he says, “Maybe I’ll hook up with a teacher. Professor Evans is kind of hot.”

My stomach flips at the casual way he says this. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get to her eventually. You’re working your way down the roster.”