She nodded.
“Well, I have a whole ton of them at home. Just saying . . .” My gaze was riveted on her. Who knew watching a girl eat a cookie could be so interesting? As she wiped her slender fingers off, I moved without thinking.
The warmth of my knee brushing hers traveled up my leg as I twisted in the seat, reached over, and took the napkin from her. “Crumb.”
“What?”
With my empty hand, I smoothed my thumb along her bottom lip. A jolt of something zinged up my arm and went straight to my cock. She stilled, her chest rising sharply and eyes widening. My hand lingered longer than it should have, but not as long as I wanted. Her lip was soft under my finger, her chin smooth against my palm. I forced myself to pull away.
There hadn’t been a damn crumb on her lip. I was a liar. But I wanted to touch her.
“Got it.” I smiled.
She looked flustered. Not upset, but unnerved. I tried to feel some level of guilt for touching her but couldn’t. I wasn’t sure what that said about me.
But then Professor Drage finally entered the front of the classroom. Drage was an odd fella. The green polyester suit was a staple. When I took this class the first time around, he used to mix up his wardrobe with an orange one. The checkered Vans and bow tie hadn’t changed in years.
I shifted in the seat, glancing over at Shortcake. The look on her face was priceless. I chuckled. “Professor Drage is a very . . . unique man.”
“I can see,” she murmured.
Professor Drage launched into a lecture. I wasn’t sure what it was about. Honestly, I wasn’t paying attention. Most of this stuff I already knew and hearing the shit again reminded me of my freshman year, something I didn’t like to dwell on.
One night had completely fucked up the path of my life.
Pushing that out of my head, I started sketching. Before I knew it, I’d drawn Big Foot and class was coming to an end in typical Drage fashion.
He started passing out star maps. “I know today is only Wednesday, but here is your first assignment for the weekend. Skies are supposed to be clear as a baby’s bottom on Saturday.”
“Clear as a baby’s bottom?” Avery muttered.
I chuckled.
“I want you to find the Corona Borealis in the sky—the actual, real, honest-to-goodness night sky,” Professor Drage explained. “You won’t need a telescope. Use your eyes or glasses or contacts or whatever. You can view it either Friday or Saturday night, but the weather is looking sketchy on Friday, so choose wisely.”
“Wait,” someone from up front said. “How do you use this map?”
I handed Shortcake a map and the grid sheets.
Professor Drage stopped and pinned the kid with a look that asked are you stupid. “You look at it.”
The student huffed. “I get that, but do we hold it up to the sky or something?”
“Sure. You could do that. Or you could just look at each of the constellations, see what they look like and then use your own eyes and brains to find it in the sky.” Drage paused. “Or use Google. I want all of you to start to get familiar with stargazing . . .” I faded out during half of what he was saying, coming back in toward the end. “So get with your partner and pick out a time. The grid will be turned back in to me on Monday. That’s all for the day. Good luck and may the force of the universe be with you today.”
“Partner?” Avery frantically looked around the classroom. “When did we pick partners?”
“On Monday,” I explained, shoving the notebook into my backpack. “You weren’t here.”
Shortcake looked like she was about to pass out as she leaned forward in her seat. “Avery?”
She took several deep breaths, like she was staving off a panic attack.
I arched a brow. “Avery.”
Her gaze darted to the door Drage had disappeared through. Her knuckles were bleached white from how tight she was holding her notebook.
“Avery.”
“What?” she snapped, whipping her gaze on me.
“We’re partners.”
A deep crevice formed between her brows. “Huh?”
“We. Are. Partners.” I sighed. “Apparently, Drage had the class pick their partners right at the beginning of class on Monday. I walked in afterward and at the end he told me to partner with anyone who joined the class on Wednesday or I’d be partner-less. And since I don’t like the idea of being partner-less, you and I are partners.”
She stared at me like I had just spoken Latin. “We have a choice to do this on our own?”
“Yeah, but who wants to go out staring at the sky at night by themselves?” Standing, I hefted my bag over my shoulder and started down the row. “Anyway, I know a perfect place we can do our assignment. Has to be Saturday, because I have plans Friday.”
Sucking, annoying as fuck plans on Friday.
“Wait.” She rushed after me. “I do.”
“You have plans on Saturday?” Hold up. What could she be doing on a Saturday night? I couldn’t skip out on Friday, but . . . “Well, I might—”
“No. I don’t have plans on Saturday, but we don’t have to be partners. I can do this by myself.”
I stopped in front of the doors, unsure if I had heard her right. “Why would you want to do all the assignments—and if you look at his class outline, there are a lot—all by yourself?”
She took a step back. “Well, I don’t really want to, but you don’t have to be my partner. I mean, you don’t owe me or anything.”