The restaurant smelt like garlic bread and melted candle wax, and Harper liked it more than she probably should have, especially the window table Adrian had picked, close enough to the river that the whole place felt fancier than it likely was. He pulled her chair out before she even sat, which felt strange coming from a guy who'd spent the last two weeks arguing with her over trig homework in the library like it was a blood sport.
"Your notes are terrifying," he said, tearing a piece of bread in half. "But somehow your handwriting's worse."
"You're one to talk. Yours looks like a spider fell in an inkwell and had a full breakdown."
He laughed loud enough that the couple at the next table glanced over, and Harper picked up her menu mostly because her hands needed something to hold. This
