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“Did something happen?”
She unwinds the bun and shakes out her hair. “I lost a bit of code I was working on. I need to try to reconstruct it now before the graduate student I’m working with notices. She’s so… I’m sure I saved it, and the program has auto-backup, so I’m not sure what happened.”
“That sucks.”
She blows out a breath. “Yeah. I’ll be working upstairs.”
I gesture to the kitchen table, cleared off because the whirlwinds in my life named Cooper and Izzy aren’t home. “Stay down here. I can change the music, or turn it off, if it’ll distract you.”
“This is what I’d be listening to anyway,” she admits, setting her bag on a chair and taking out her laptop. There aren’t any stickers on it, in typical Mia fashion. When it comes to work, she’s all business, all the time.
I let myself smile at that. “I know, Mia. I’ve seen you at work before.”
“Then why did you offer to turn it off?”
“To be polite to my new roommate.”
She roots around in her bag, pulling out a notebook, a stub of a pencil, and a glasses case. “Is that what we are?”
“I figured it was a relatively safe option.” I add the peppers to the pan and give it all a shake. “Did they call you?”
“Not today.”
“So, we’re officially roommates.” I turn over the potatoes. “Those glasses are cute on you.”
I wasn’t kidding; I am fond of the glasses—the circular, wire-framed lenses remind me of a stooped old mathematics professor—but for whatever reason, she’s blushing. “They’re just for the blue light from the computer. I don’t need them to see.”
“So, they’re your special coding glasses. Like a superhero mask.”
“That smells amazing,” she says by way of changing the subject, but I catch the hopefully-fond roll of her eyes. “I haven’t had it in years.”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
She looks over, gifting me a rare smile. “Me too.”
She turns to her laptop. Her fingers fly over the keyboard as she types. Her fingernails are black right now, filed down so there’s not much of a tip. She leans closer to the screen, frowning in a way that makes her forehead wrinkle cutely. A part of me that has no business being so loud wants to walk over, shove away the laptop and notebook, and lay her out on the table.
I’ve never been one for dessert before dinner, but now there’s only one thing I’m craving.
What a friendly fucking thought to have. It’s torture, especially with my cock stirring, but I turn back to the stove. I somehow manage to finish cooking the meal without peering over my shoulder constantly. Her typing is a signal that she’s working, and I don’t want to distract her.
College has been a way for me to play baseball and fuck around with the most interesting, out-there courses McKee has on offer, but it’s different for Mia. This is the foundation of her future, the thing that’s going to get her to the top of her field one day. She needs every moment of these four years, meanwhile I’m finished with my history major coursework and have enough credits to graduate after next semester if I wanted.
She’s so into it that she doesn’t notice when I set down a plate and glass of wine for her. I squeeze her shoulder on the way to my own seat.
She startles, blinking as she pushes the glasses up her nose. “Oh. Thanks.”
She shuts her laptop and pushes it to the middle of the table. When she takes a bite, she promptly moans. I hide my grin behind a sip of wine, but her reaction makes butterflies erupt in my stomach. Nothing beats the moment someone tastes my cooking. It’s even better than hitting a home run.
“This is delicious.” She takes off the glasses, settling back in the chair. “Thank you. You’re being… really nice. Which makes me want to stab you with my fork for some reason.”
I nearly snort out my wine. “Just eat, di Angelo. Did you even have lunch?”
“I had a protein bar.”
“Not a meal.”
“It’s something.”
