Back in his arms, back in his life

Chapter thirteen: One week

## Mariana's POV

When the lecturer called his name, I thought it had to be a different Andrew. There were two others in the class. It couldn't be him.

Then I turned around, and it was him. Standing at the back with that stunned look on his face, like he had just been handed a bill. For one second I felt pure disgust, and I couldn't even be bothered to hide it.

I raised my hand. "Sir, I'd like to switch partners."

The lecturer barely looked up from his list. "If you want to switch partners, you'll have to change your major."

I lowered my hand slowly.

So that was that. One week. One whole week of working beside the last person on earth I wanted to see. And I couldn't push it any further, because asking again would make me look like someone who wasn't serious, and I couldn't afford that. I couldn't afford to fail this course, not with my scholarship riding on it.

*Fine,* I told myself. *One week. You can survive one week.*

When the lecturer left, I grabbed my bag and walked out fast, heading straight for the library. I didn't need to look back to know he was behind me. I could hear his footsteps hurrying to catch up.

I picked a table near the back, set up my laptop, and he dropped into the chair across from me. I looked at him. He looked at me. Neither of us spoke. It was a staring contest, plain and simple, each of us waiting for the other to blink first. I kept my eyes on his and didn't look away once.

Finally he exhaled. "Fine. I apologize."

I raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry I acted that way."

"If you hadn't apologized," I said, "I would have done this entire project myself. I wouldn't have let you help with a single thing."

"I know. I'm sorry. I messed up." He held my gaze. "But that's it. I won't bring it up again. You said it was a mistake, so let's leave it at that."

I studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Fine. Now we're doing this project together, and I'm serious. I don't want any tension. I don't want you clinging to me like a fly. I don't joke with my grades. This scholarship means a lot to me. So if you're not going to take this seriously, just leave me alone and I'll do it by myself. Don't worry, your grade will be fine."

"Don't look at me like I'm dumb," he said. "Yesterday you called me brainless. I accept that. I was brainless for talking to you that way. But when it comes to artwork, I'm a genius."

I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms. "A genius, huh?"

"Yes."

"We'll see."

We started with the shelves. Row by row, book by book, pulling down heavy volumes on painters and galleries and art diaries, flipping through pages, setting aside the ones that might work. I hated how quickly I noticed he wasn't lying. He actually knew things. He could tell a brushstroke from one era to another, and he talked about color like it mattered to him.

Somewhere in the middle of it, he disappeared. I thought he'd given up. Twenty minutes later he came back with two coffees and a paper bag, and set one cup down in front of me without a word.

"Sandwich," he said, sliding the bag across. "You haven't eaten."

I wanted to say something sharp. Instead I said, "Thank you," and ate.

He was kind about it. No jokes, no smirking, no hands where they didn't belong. Just two people and a pile of books, working until the windows went dark and the library lights hummed louder than the room.

Eventually I closed my laptop. "I have to leave now. Tomorrow we continue from where we stopped."

"You want me to drop you at your dorm?"

"Remember what I told you earlier?" I slung my bag over my shoulder. "I don't want you to be clingy."

He raised both hands. "Fine. Okay. I'll back off. But anytime we finish this late, you're not going to say no to me. Even if I can be a jerk sometimes, I'm gentle with ladies."

"I don't care," I said. "Have a good night."

I left before he could answer.

When I got to the dorm, Selena and Andrea were standing in the middle of the room with their arms folded, like two judges waiting for a verdict. I took my bag off my shoulder and hung it on the hook.

"What?"

"So," Selena said, "you're working with Andrew now."

"Stop exaggerating. It's just a project."

"Why didn't you tell us you two share the same major?" Andrea asked. "You're in the same classes this session and you didn't say a word."

"I didn't know. I met him by chance, and this is just for one week. Once we finish this project, I'm never going to see him again. Okay?"

"I don't think so," Selena said. "I've been hearing weird rumors about the two of you always meeting up."

I groaned. "You guys are starting again. We're not meeting up. We haven't done anything. Okay? I'm tired. I've been in the library all day, and I need to rest."

I walked past them straight to the restroom and shut the door.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and climbed into bed. The ceiling was just as blank as it had been the night before. I stared at it, and I did not think about the coffee, or the sandwich, or the way he'd said *I'm gentle with ladies*.

I did not think about it at all.

* * *

## Mariana's POV

We've been working together for four days now, and the closeness has brought a kind of tension I don't know what to do with. I try to deny that I'm attracted to him, but it's there, sitting underneath everything, no matter how much I ignore it.

He's been kind to me. He cares, in his own way — more than I expected. A few times I've dozed off in the library without meaning to, worn out from classes and the project, and when I woke up he'd just kept going, picking up exactly where I'd left off without waking me or making a thing of it.

We've talked more than I expected to. Nothing deep, just the small stuff — friends, classes, things that happened over the weekdays, the kind of talk that fills up the quiet between chapters of a book neither of us is really reading anymore. It's easy with him in a way I didn't think it would be.

Before I actually got to know him, I thought he was dumb. Careless, spoiled, the kind of person who coasts on his face. But he isn't. I was wrong.

We were nearly done with the project — just one more visit to the art studio and we could finally call it finished. I had my head down, bent over my notes, double-checking a reference, when a hand clamped down on my shoulder from behind.

I jumped so hard I nearly knocked my laptop off the table. "Oh my God! What are you doing? You scared the hell out of me!"

Andrew dropped into the chair across from me, laughing. "No, I — I'm just playing. I'm just toying with you."

"Don't do that again," I said, pressing a hand to my chest. "I don't like that."

He leaned forward, grinning like nothing had happened. "Are you almost done with it?"

"I've been waiting for you for hours." I shut my laptop halfway and looked at him. "Where have you been?"

"I actually went to—" He stopped himself.

"Okay." I held up a hand. "You went to see someone."

"You know how it is."

"I'm not going to meddle in your business," I said, even though something in my chest tightened saying it. "Just don't leave me hanging on this project. You said you'd put in the work too, and you have, so don't start slacking now. We built all of this ourselves."

"I didn't sleep in my dorm last night," he said. "I slept at my apartment."

"Oh. Your apartment. Right."I opened my laptop and kept my eyes on my screen.

"Yeah. I had some things to take care of last night."

"Don't tell me the details." My voice came out flatter than I meant it to. "I know you were with someone."

I felt my face drop before I could stop it.

Andrew reached over and closed my laptop, slow, deliberate, giving me every chance to stop him. I didn't. I just kept staring at the space where the screen used to be. He tipped his head down, trying to catch my expression.

"Are you jealous?”