Rain tapped against the windows like a secret heartbeat when I stepped back into the apartment.
The living room was dim, only the glow of the laptop and a single floor lamp cutting through the gray. Everyone else was gone practice, game watch party, whatever leaving the big sectional couch and the coffee table covered in textbooks, scattered notes, and the looping animation of molecules sliding through a membrane.
Dave was already there.
Black button down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, He leaned back against the cushions, one arm draped along the back of the couch, legs spread like he owned the entire room. His eyes flicked up when I walked in stormy gray, irritated, cold.
"You're late."
I dropped the takeout bag on the table. "I brought dinner since you said you were starving."
