With Every Heartbeat(43)

“I don’t blame you. I love that smell.” I realized what I’d just said the moment the words left my lips. “I mean...” Mortified, I gaped at her with no idea how I was going to talk my way out of this faux pas, when a commotion on the television caught my attention.

“Are you watching Pysch?” I shut the door behind me and wandered into the living room, remembering the episode she currently had on.

“Yeah. You have me officially addicted. I started watching it last night when Cora was out and almost finished the entire first season in one sitting.”

I began to smile until it struck me what else she’d said.

Cora had been out last night? She hadn’t told me she was going anywhere. I knew she probably didn’t sit at home alone on the nights I worked, but...

I shook my head. My girlfriend certainly didn’t have to tell me every little move she made. Besides, I hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to her since then. She’d probably tell me all about what she’d done as I drove us to the frat party tonight.

“It’s helping me gag my way through my homework,” Zoey was saying as she settled onto a bare spot of couch that was covered in open textbooks. Sending me a brief accusing glance, she added, “You forgot to warn me how tough Gilcrest was. I mean...” She held up a stapled stack of papers and shook it at me. “This syllabus is insane.”

“You’re studying biology?”

Oh, man. Soaking in bio and watching Psych? I wondered if I could talk her into trading places with me for the evening.

“Yes. So I’m really hoping you were serious about those notes you were offering to share.”

With a chuckle, I reached back and pulled out the sheets I’d rolled into a tube and shoved into my back pocket. Waving them at her, I stepped in to hand them over. “I was.”

“Oh, thank God. You’re amazing.” She snagged them from my outstretched hand. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She hugged the roll to her cheek and then kissed it.

My skin heated as I watched her press her lips to the paper I’d just had in my back pocket. She seemed to realize the intimacy of the moment a second later, because she froze, then glanced at me with a guilty cringe before she blushed and slowly moved my notes away from her mouth.

“Sorry. That was...really weird, wasn’t it?”

Actually, it made me feel better for all the mortifying things I’d done and said since she’d opened the door. I sniffed and waved an unconcerned hand. “Not at all. I kiss my homework all the time.”

When she laughed, I felt...I don’t know, but it was one of those really good feelings, like you’re floating off the ground because you’re so happy.

Unable to stay back, I drifted closer. “What’s Gilcrest making you learn first?”

“Oh! Here.” Zoey shoved aside some books on the couch to make room for me. “I’m not exactly sure. It says on his syllabus, but...” She shook her head and sighed. “It’s all Greek to me.”

I held out my hand for the sheet, and she readily handed it over. When I scanned over her first assignment, I pointed. “Actually, this is Latin...not Greek.”

The dry look she sent me told me just how much she wasn’t impressed by my nerd knowledge. “Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Bad joke.”

She rolled her eyes and fluttered a hand. “No. Go ahead and rub it in. I suck at biology and you rule. I got it.”

I smiled out a silent laugh as I motioned to the syllabus again. “Looks like you’ll be starting with human anatomy.”

“Really?” She leaned in to read over my arm, which stirred up more of that wild cherry and orchid smell. “Why didn’t he just say human anatomy, then?”

“Because Gilcrest only knows science jargon. But I think I wrote pretty common terms in my notes, so hopefully that’ll help you.”

Zoey pulled the notes into her lap. I found her biology book next to my hip, and we spent a few minutes going through the text, syllabus, and notes.

I know I got a little too involved in some of the things I explained. But it was so nice to know what I was talking about, I got a little carried away...and possibly a little off topic. Zoey didn’t seem to mind though. She kept nodding and transferring her attention from my notes, to her book, to my face as I went on. Sometimes, she’d even write down something I said.

“And did you know ancient Greek doctors thought there was a vein in this finger,” I tugged at the fourth digit on my left hand, “that led right to the heart? It’s not true, of course. But they called it the vena amoris, which means—”