hand on my upper arm stopped me.
It was Nick— Dr. Muramoto . . . stop that, Megan! —concern flooding his eyes. “Hey, wait. Where are you going?”
“I’m driving home,” I said, unable to keep the petulance out of my tone. I hated that he made me feel this unsure of myself, this unsteady. I’d never experienced that with a person before.
His lips thinned. “How much have you had to drink?”
“I’m fine,” I shot back as I removed my arm from his grasp. Even as I said it, I could feel myself sway a bit. Okay, “fine” was a little off the mark. Maybe I could walk home then.
“No, you’re not.” His voice was low and soothing. The music from the club was less intense from here, and we were alone at the corner. A soft light from a nearby street lamp cast us in a golden glow. “Let me take you.” I opened my mouth to protest, and he said, “Either me or your DJ friend. But you shouldn’t drive, and she’s working.” He paused. “Unless there’s someone else you want to call.”
I didn’t want him to feel like he was obligated to take care of me. But I knew he was right. I found myself shaking my head and following him to his car.
Chapter 6
W e pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. Nick let the car idle in the spot. Neither of us had spoken on the ride back. All of my emotions had been overwhelming me, probably not helped by the beer I’d chugged.
Nick raked fingers through his hair, mussing it up. He turned to look at me. I could see the highlights of his face through the streetlights in the parking lot. “Megan . . .” He stopped, closed his eyes for a moment. Rubbed his brow.
I lifted my chin. “Thanks for the ride,” I managed to say. I put my hand on the door handle to open it.
“Wait. Shit. This is going badly.” He huffed a sigh and looked at me. I felt pinned to my seat. “I wasn’t expecting to see you at the club tonight, so I’m a little thrown off. My academic realm is usually separate from my private life. I’m afraid of crossing a line I can’t uncross. There’s a lot on the line for me right now.” There was a tinge of vulnerability in his voice that made my heart squeeze in sympathy.
He sounded so conflicted. Could I be upset at him about that when I was too?
“What’s on the line for you right now?” I asked in a tentative voice.
He blinked. One hand dropped to his lap, the other toying with the ball of the stick shift. “I just got accepted for tenure track. I applied back in the fall, but I didn’t think I had a chance.”
“Wow, that’s great. You must be thrilled.”
“I am . . . It comes with a lot of pressure. Meetings. I’m being scrutinized in a way I never have been before. My workload has doubled.” His eyes raked over mine, then drifted. He gave an awkward laugh. “I feel like I’m whining. I’m not, really. I’m in a job I love, and they’re basically offering me job security. Can’t get any better than that.”
He was open and talking to me right now, and my curiosity flamed. I wanted to know more. “What do you do when you’re not working? How do you de-stress?”
“I work on home renovation—just bought an old house last year. And I have an antique car I’m restoring.”
“And create your own coded messages,” I added lightly.
His lips quirked, and for the first time since we’d left the club, he seemed to relax. “Yeah, I’ve always been fascinated by codes. My dad used to write them in Japanese for me, and I’d spend hours trying to crack them.”
“So are your parents Japanese?”
“My dad is from Japan—he moved here with his parents when he was a kid. My mom’s relatives are from Hong Kong, though she grew up in Ohio.” His lips curved into a soft smile. “Our family reunions are crazy fun.”
“I can just imagine. Do you have any siblings?”
He shook his head.
“Me neither. But I have a bunch of cousins. They felt like siblings growing up.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
I
It was Nick— Dr. Muramoto . . . stop that, Megan! —concern flooding his eyes. “Hey, wait. Where are you going?”
“I’m driving home,” I said, unable to keep the petulance out of my tone. I hated that he made me feel this unsure of myself, this unsteady. I’d never experienced that with a person before.
His lips thinned. “How much have you had to drink?”
“I’m fine,” I shot back as I removed my arm from his grasp. Even as I said it, I could feel myself sway a bit. Okay, “fine” was a little off the mark. Maybe I could walk home then.
“No, you’re not.” His voice was low and soothing. The music from the club was less intense from here, and we were alone at the corner. A soft light from a nearby street lamp cast us in a golden glow. “Let me take you.” I opened my mouth to protest, and he said, “Either me or your DJ friend. But you shouldn’t drive, and she’s working.” He paused. “Unless there’s someone else you want to call.”
I didn’t want him to feel like he was obligated to take care of me. But I knew he was right. I found myself shaking my head and following him to his car.
Chapter 6
W e pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. Nick let the car idle in the spot. Neither of us had spoken on the ride back. All of my emotions had been overwhelming me, probably not helped by the beer I’d chugged.
Nick raked fingers through his hair, mussing it up. He turned to look at me. I could see the highlights of his face through the streetlights in the parking lot. “Megan . . .” He stopped, closed his eyes for a moment. Rubbed his brow.
I lifted my chin. “Thanks for the ride,” I managed to say. I put my hand on the door handle to open it.
“Wait. Shit. This is going badly.” He huffed a sigh and looked at me. I felt pinned to my seat. “I wasn’t expecting to see you at the club tonight, so I’m a little thrown off. My academic realm is usually separate from my private life. I’m afraid of crossing a line I can’t uncross. There’s a lot on the line for me right now.” There was a tinge of vulnerability in his voice that made my heart squeeze in sympathy.
He sounded so conflicted. Could I be upset at him about that when I was too?
“What’s on the line for you right now?” I asked in a tentative voice.
He blinked. One hand dropped to his lap, the other toying with the ball of the stick shift. “I just got accepted for tenure track. I applied back in the fall, but I didn’t think I had a chance.”
“Wow, that’s great. You must be thrilled.”
“I am . . . It comes with a lot of pressure. Meetings. I’m being scrutinized in a way I never have been before. My workload has doubled.” His eyes raked over mine, then drifted. He gave an awkward laugh. “I feel like I’m whining. I’m not, really. I’m in a job I love, and they’re basically offering me job security. Can’t get any better than that.”
He was open and talking to me right now, and my curiosity flamed. I wanted to know more. “What do you do when you’re not working? How do you de-stress?”
“I work on home renovation—just bought an old house last year. And I have an antique car I’m restoring.”
“And create your own coded messages,” I added lightly.
His lips quirked, and for the first time since we’d left the club, he seemed to relax. “Yeah, I’ve always been fascinated by codes. My dad used to write them in Japanese for me, and I’d spend hours trying to crack them.”
“So are your parents Japanese?”
“My dad is from Japan—he moved here with his parents when he was a kid. My mom’s relatives are from Hong Kong, though she grew up in Ohio.” His lips curved into a soft smile. “Our family reunions are crazy fun.”
“I can just imagine. Do you have any siblings?”
He shook his head.
“Me neither. But I have a bunch of cousins. They felt like siblings growing up.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
I
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