Stealing Home: A Reverse Grumpy-Sunshine College Sports Romance: Chapter 16

“LET’S get here on time tomorrow, Mia,” Alice says as she passes by my workstation. “We only have so much time to work on this.”

I pull my headphones away from my ears as I glance at her. When I work, I try to go into a focus zone, which usually means loud rock music, a phone set to silent, and my long hair in a bun.

She tucks her clipboard underneath her arm as she runs her hand through her perfectly neat, pink-streaked bob. “Earth to Mia.” She laughs at her own dumb joke. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes.” I grimace, rubbing my forehead. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. My tire just—”

“I don’t care about the reason,” she interrupts. “I mean, no offense, but excuses aren’t going to cut it around here.”

I try my best not to let my irritation show. This morning was a complete mess from start to finish. I can still feel the echo of the way Sebastian held me down, hours later, and whenever I’ve lost my focus, that’s exactly where it goes. He was half-hard by the time I escaped, and I’d never, ever admit it, but I was so turned on, the drive to campus was a blur.

If he hadn’t brought up being friends again, I would have blown him right there in the grass.

“You’re right,” I say, even though I’m imagining how satisfying it would be to stab her with my pencil. At least she doesn’t know the real reason I was late. “Like I said, I’m sorry.”

“Just make sure you’re here and working when I say you need to be,” she says. “Beatrice might love you, but you’re still just an undergrad. You report to me, and I need you to make me look good.”

She laughs again. I just stare, because I have no idea if she’s serious or if she’s trying to joke around and doing it badly. I get it, she’s a graduate student working on her dissertation, so she has a lot riding on this, but I do too. It’s not like this is a joke to me; it’s my entire life.

You’d think that as the only two women in the lab besides Professor Santoro herself, she’d want to be supportive, but right now, she’s acting like the Space-X wannabe guys in the department. In other words, completely idiotic.

“Right,” I say into the awkward silence. “I’m going to get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.”

Once she leaves, I let out a breath, redoing my bun.

If this is a taste of this summer, I’m going to need to adjust my expectations. When I’m the graduate student in charge of undergrads, I’m going to be a hell of a lot nicer. We’re all colleagues, after all.

I stare at my computer, but I’m all keyed up now. My mind doesn’t want to focus. I rub the burn over my knuckles. It’s nothing bad, no blistering, but the slight ache reminds me of Sebastian. Our meal last night was nice, at least until it wasn’t. I can still hear his quiet voice, telling me goodnight.

What did he tell me in that voice, once upon a time?

Project GOSMC has been an utter failure so far.

I don’t understand his obsession with wanting to make sure we’re friends. Friends is a label too, a promise of something I’m not sure I’m going to be able to keep. Shouldn’t he hate me, anyway? I ghosted him. I went back on my word. He has every right to be the one shutting out, and instead, the past few days have been filled with his presence.

My phone lights up by my elbow, and even though I should ignore it, I can’t help but pick it up when I notice the name.

Just some protein bars, thanks. I can pay you back ???

Connor, another graduate student in the lab, calls, “Someone just dropped off a package for you, Mia.”

Sebastian chooses that moment to stop responding, so with a sigh, I haul myself up from my worktable. There’s a shoebox on an unused desk by the door, cluttered with papers and an old model of the solar system.

Alice raises an eyebrow as she passes by. “It’s not the journal proofs Beatrice is waiting on, right?”

There’s a note stuck to the top. Sebastian’s scrawl. “Nope. It’s for me.”

“Let me know when those come in,” she says, taking a sip from her thermos. She disappears into her office, humming something horribly off-tune. Despite her attitude, I do admire her, but her focus on artistry instead of hard data is annoying. There’s a reason why her code is messy—she doesn’t pay attention to the right details.

Connor peers at the shoebox, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Who is S?”

“No one.” I take the box to my desk. It’s obvious that shoes are inside, and judging by the size of the box…

I set the note aside, taking the top off the box. As I expected, a pair of black suede boots, identical to the ones I had to throw away, lay nestled in the tissue paper. I check the size automatically. Eight. They’re going to fit perfectly.

I put the lid back on and turn to the note.

I didn’t realize he’d paid that much attention to my shoes.

His answer comes back swiftly.

On a scale of one to creepy, this is definitely up there My fingers hover over the keys, typing and then deleting. Ruminating on memory would be a strike against Project GOSMC.

You’re the one who keeps insisting we’re friends No. I’m just repeating your assertion. The one you won’t let go of, might I add Truthfully, my plan had been to work until I felt like passing out, but chicken scarpariello does sound tempting. That’s a dish I haven’t had in years but remember from the many family dinner parties. The thing I don’t want is to leave before everyone else, because I’m the youngest here and have the most to prove. I can’t be late again, either.

Starting tomorrow, I’m going to get to the lab even earlier. With any luck, I won’t even see Sebastian, which will be a win-win. No hot, athletic distractions, and an extra hour to work before Alice hovers over my shoulder like a pink-feathered bird of prey.

Maybe.