"You sure you're okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I assured him again. He looked so worried that I couldn't help myself. "All except my ankle, but I'm sure that will heal in a few weeks."
"Shaw-" he began, his face a mask of guilt.
I relented instantly. "Kidding. Totally kidding."
"That wasn't funny," he muttered as he opened the door for me to precede him outside.
"Was to me," I said.
He just shook his head.
"Are you seriously going to carry my books for me all the way back to my dorm, like in some kind of cornball TV show?" I asked.
"Would you like me to?" he returned.
I smiled. "I wouldn't mind." In truth, the backpack had felt heavier than it had any right to feel, dragging at my whole body after the end of the grueling week of tests.
"Are you going to Lisette's place again this Christmas?" he asked, changing the subject.
I shook my head. "I'm starting the new therapy tonight, and staying here will give me time to recover. Anyhow, I've already paid for housing over the break."
"I'm leaving as soon as my last final is over," he said. "My family's expecting me home before dinner, too, and with rush hour traffic...." He lived in Annapolis, which was an hour away when the Beltway wasn't crowded.
"Cutting it close?" I asked.
"What can I say? I like to live dangerously. Just yesterday, I reparked my car without fastening my seat belt."
Dangerous. An image of Mr. Thorne came to me then, holding my finger to his lips. I shivered.
"Cold?" Geoff asked.
"No, I'm fine," I said. We got to the front door of the campus apartments. I stopped and turned to him. "Thanks for walking me," I said.
"I'll come up with you," he said, reaching past me to open the door. The casualness of the offer was a little forced. "If I'm carrying your books, I might as well do a proper job of it and take them all the way to your room."
"Sure." I felt my face heat a little, and I ducked under his arm into the building.
"You heard back from any grad schools yet?" I asked as we waited for the elevator.
"Three," he said. "Acceptances from Chicago and Berkley and a rejection from Stanford, but no news yet on assistantships or fellowships. You?"
The elevator doors opened with a chime, and we stepped inside.
"Honestly?" I said, pushing the button for the fourth floor. "I didn't apply until November."
"Ouch," he said.
"I know, stupid, right? But I was distracted. Hope all the slots aren't filled before they look at my application."