TK was sitting by her bowl on the floor, mewing at the top of her little lungs when I came out of the bedroom. I checked all the cupboards until I found her food and filled the dish. Soft cat food smelled disgusting, but she dug right in.
My shoes were still in the middle of the kitchen floor where I’d left them last night, and my shirt lay discarded by the door. Since Round Two had been explosive, I had wanted a slow Round Three. Too bad it was interrupted by a near anxiety attack. It looked like sex with Tenley was on hold for a while, which sucked, because touching her was becoming a sensory addiction.
I locked the door when I left. There was a beat-up Toyota Tercel and a newer, but equally emasculating, Prius parked behind Serendipity. I wouldn’t be caught dead driving either one. I jogged across the street to my building, taking the stairs to the parking garage. My ’68 Camaro was parked in its designated spot, right under the security camera.
Once out of underground parking I drove around to the back of Tenley’s apartment and waited. I debated whether I should go up and make sure she was okay, given the state I left her in. She solved the dilemma when she burst through the door and almost wiped out on the stairs. It was twenty after eight—plenty of time to get to Northwestern, considering the way I drove.
I hopped out of the car and met her on the passenger side. “Are you all right?” I asked as I helped her with her things.
“I’m fine, just frazzled. Thanks for driving me.” She gave me a tremulous smile.
“No problem.” I didn’t bother to tell her I would have physically forced her into my car if she hadn’t agreed in the first place.
Once she was settled, I rounded the car and took my place behind the wheel. We were on the freeway in less than five minutes.
“This car is fast,” she said, white-knuckling the dash while I slid neatly between two cars.
“I like fast.” I shifted gears and changed lanes again, getting ahead of the pack.
“I can tell.” She ran her hands over the black leather seat. “It’s like a race car inside.”
“It was my dad’s. I had the interior updated when I made it roadworthy again.” Restoring the classic ride became one of my primary projects once I got my shit together.
Tenley surveyed the inside of the car. “It’s really cool.”
“Thanks. Can you fill me in on the issue with your advisor?” I asked, seeking insight into her reaction this morning.
I couldn’t imagine being kicked out of a program less than a month into the semester. Granted, my knowledge of master’s programs and how they worked was limited.
“I was late for my last meeting, and my advisor hasn’t been happy with my thesis proposal or my research so far. I haven’t made a very good impression.”
She started chewing her nails, already bitten to the quick, so I reached across the center console and took her hand. Tenley was too preoccupied for there to be any weirdness between us, which was good under the circumstances. We needed to talk about last night, but I was in no hurry to address the issue, especially now that I’d seen Tenley’s scars. She was more damaged than I’d realized. The tattoo would serve to cover some of the ones on her back and might explain why she chose that specific location. It would work well as a way to mask the reminder of her accident.
“What’s your advisor like?”
“Professor Calder is brilliant, but not very warm.”
I noticed she kept it gender neutral. “So is she bitchy?” I did not want her advisor to be male. A smart man in a position of power over a beautiful, fragile woman did not make for an equitable arrangement.
She evaded the question. “Maybe I’m not cut out for the program. Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure thing. You want to listen to music?” I would try again when she wasn’t so worked up about a meeting with her gender-nonspecific advisor. I passed over my iPod, and she scrolled through my albums until she found something she liked.
Heavy guitar riffs blasted through the speakers, scaring the crap out of her. She fumbled with the volume and turned it down, but she kept it loud enough to discourage talking.
When we reached the exit, Tenley directed me to her advisor’s building. She still had ten minutes before her meeting, which gave me enough time to arrange where to pick her up later.
“I think one of the guys in my group lives around Serendipity. I can always ask him for a ride,” she said as I programmed my number into her phone.
“That’s not necessary.” I tried to keep the spike of irrational jealousy from lancing through my words. I didn’t want her in a car with some guy I didn’t know. “What time does the meeting with your group end?”
“Around four, maybe four thirty at the latest?”
“If you think it’s going to end early, just call.” I sent myself a text from her phone, smiling at the content. When mine chimed in my pocket, I handed hers back.
“Okay.”
I leaned over and unbuckled her seat belt. Her hair was in a ponytail. I ran my fingers through the damp ends. “I’ll see you later.”
“Hayden?”