thousand miles from the conversation, lost somewhere in his head.
“No.” She disentangled her fingers from his and he didn’t reach for her hand again.
“How?”
Jo took another deep breath and afterward, her voice was more composed. Harder. More detached. “Last month, when that cat scratched me at work and I took a round of antibiotics. The drugs would have made the pill ineffective. I didn’t even think about it until…”
Tam wanted to reach out to her, to slide his arm around her shoulders and tuck her in against his chest. He really did.
But he didn’t.
4
“ I ’m not sure of the etiquette when dining with your professor,” Ellie said, and Jordan watched her snitch a pepperoni off the slice on her plate with black fingernails. She folded it into her mouth and looked at him expectantly. She was nervous, he assumed, wondering why he’d been crazy enough to ask her to join him, but she covered it well.
“Well.” His mind was split clean in two on the matter. Half of him was backpedaling like a madman, citing policy and propriety; this was wrong. But the other half was plotting her demise; she looked far more capable of scratching his itch than Sasha had. And he’d always had a thing for curvy brunettes. “For starters, no ‘professor.’”
“Coach, then?”
“Jordan.”
“Jordan,” she repeated, staring at the hurricane lamp, head tilted in contemplation.
He felt the urge to smile again. “What?”
“It suits you.” She let her gaze slide over to meet his and nodded. “It’s got a nice taste to it. Lots of character.”
He did smile. “You’re a little strange, aren’t you?”
“Depends on who you ask.” She picked up her pizza and took a bite, further proving herself an eater, and not one of those food-phobic twig girls who felt like they’d snap in half in bed. “For instance, you might be totally normal, but I think it’s a little strange you want to have dinner with me.”
“Strange? Or better than what – bake a cake, you said?”
She nodded. “My roommate is trying to start up a business and her orders are getting big, so I pitch in.”
Jordan searched his memory for Wednesday’s class and brought up an image of his dark-haired date leaning across the aisle to talk to the chick with the pink hair and lots of first-day questions. He’d taken note of the hissed whispers and meaningful head dips in Tam’s direction – who’d sat behind them and looked amused about the whole thing – and had glanced away. The females liked Tam. Nothing new there. “Your roommate being the one with the pink hair and the hots for the guy who sits behind you?”
“Paige, yes.” She sighed and took another bite of pizza, dabbing her lips with her napkin afterward. “She’s always trying to set me up with someone.” When she rolled her eyes, they caught the candlelight and flared silver, the gray irises full of white flecks. “I’m sorry; you don’t care about my stupid teenager stuff.”
Teenager brought his conscious to the forefront. Jesus, what was he doing? “How teenage are we talking?” he asked before he could stop himself.
A sly, white smile stole across her face. “If I say eighteen, does that make your intentions more or less wholesome?” she teased, a laugh threaded through her voice. It was the sound he needed to kick his mind out of the gutter.
“No.” She disentangled her fingers from his and he didn’t reach for her hand again.
“How?”
Jo took another deep breath and afterward, her voice was more composed. Harder. More detached. “Last month, when that cat scratched me at work and I took a round of antibiotics. The drugs would have made the pill ineffective. I didn’t even think about it until…”
Tam wanted to reach out to her, to slide his arm around her shoulders and tuck her in against his chest. He really did.
But he didn’t.
4
“ I ’m not sure of the etiquette when dining with your professor,” Ellie said, and Jordan watched her snitch a pepperoni off the slice on her plate with black fingernails. She folded it into her mouth and looked at him expectantly. She was nervous, he assumed, wondering why he’d been crazy enough to ask her to join him, but she covered it well.
“Well.” His mind was split clean in two on the matter. Half of him was backpedaling like a madman, citing policy and propriety; this was wrong. But the other half was plotting her demise; she looked far more capable of scratching his itch than Sasha had. And he’d always had a thing for curvy brunettes. “For starters, no ‘professor.’”
“Coach, then?”
“Jordan.”
“Jordan,” she repeated, staring at the hurricane lamp, head tilted in contemplation.
He felt the urge to smile again. “What?”
“It suits you.” She let her gaze slide over to meet his and nodded. “It’s got a nice taste to it. Lots of character.”
He did smile. “You’re a little strange, aren’t you?”
“Depends on who you ask.” She picked up her pizza and took a bite, further proving herself an eater, and not one of those food-phobic twig girls who felt like they’d snap in half in bed. “For instance, you might be totally normal, but I think it’s a little strange you want to have dinner with me.”
“Strange? Or better than what – bake a cake, you said?”
She nodded. “My roommate is trying to start up a business and her orders are getting big, so I pitch in.”
Jordan searched his memory for Wednesday’s class and brought up an image of his dark-haired date leaning across the aisle to talk to the chick with the pink hair and lots of first-day questions. He’d taken note of the hissed whispers and meaningful head dips in Tam’s direction – who’d sat behind them and looked amused about the whole thing – and had glanced away. The females liked Tam. Nothing new there. “Your roommate being the one with the pink hair and the hots for the guy who sits behind you?”
“Paige, yes.” She sighed and took another bite of pizza, dabbing her lips with her napkin afterward. “She’s always trying to set me up with someone.” When she rolled her eyes, they caught the candlelight and flared silver, the gray irises full of white flecks. “I’m sorry; you don’t care about my stupid teenager stuff.”
Teenager brought his conscious to the forefront. Jesus, what was he doing? “How teenage are we talking?” he asked before he could stop himself.
A sly, white smile stole across her face. “If I say eighteen, does that make your intentions more or less wholesome?” she teased, a laugh threaded through her voice. It was the sound he needed to kick his mind out of the gutter.
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