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Classes this week with Salazar have been awesome. I shouldn’t have doubted his ability as a teacher.

Or how helpful he could truly be with my project. A genuine ally. Like he said he would be.

The best part has been the conversations as he walks me to my lab. He’s sweet and charming. Attentive. Thoughtful.

I can’t deny how good-looking he is either. Or the way I catch him looking at me sometimes.

Like his over-the-top flirting didn’t already tell me his intentions. Yet, I bet if I told him I’m not comfortable with anything more, he’d keep this friendly. He’s proven himself as a good guy.

He grins at me now, leaning against the lab table beside me. Salazar just helped me set up my equipment to process the blood samples I’ve taken from my subjects. And now he’s put his biceps on display.

I bite my lip and look up at him. Those dark blue eyes twinkle with mirth. With attraction. The same attraction I feel most of the time.

And it’s not just his good looks. It’s the way he listens. The way he cares. His sense of humor.

He’s actually funny when he’s not trying too hard.

“What do you think about the routines? I tweaked them after our last brainstorming session.” I push the folder at him.

A small hesitation has him meeting my gaze for a few long seconds, then dropping to my mouth for a heartbeat. Salazar turns to look over my notes. So much about him changes when he turns serious.

It’s even sexier than the flirty fun version of him.

I should not be thinking about him like this, but I have been. More and more.

But is that because we’re spending so much time together?

“These are good, but I think you’ll be surprised at how much growth they’ll have around week two.

When the post-workout high kicks in, they’ll start noticing the changes and be more open to new kinds of training.

It would be good to introduce some strength training along with the cardio you have planned. ”

Grinning up at him causes him to flash his own smile back at me.

“You already thought of that?”

“I did. I was playing with introducing a variety of types so that they can try them all. They’re not going to all like the same things, so I thought it best to let them know their options.

We only have twelve weeks to work together, and as much as this is for my thesis, I also want to imbue them with routines they can keep up with when we’re done. ”

“And that’s what makes you so good at this.”

I shimmy in my seat. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Professor Salazar.”

He shifts closer. “When am I going to get you to call me Nick again?”

I lean in, testing and teasing how familiar we are with each other. “When you’re not my professor anymore.”

He groans, and the sound sends heat fluttering low.

It really is too bad that he’s my teacher. The passion we share academically could easily translate into other areas.

We linger like this for a few heartbeats before he retreats, standing straight and running a hand through that lush dark hair. I bet it’s as soft as it looks.

Then, he checks his watch. “I have a meeting in five. But just so you’re forewarned, I’ve got something stashed away for you. I had to hide it from my daughter.”

We share a meaningful look. I know how much he dotes on Ruby. It makes me feel special.

“But I want you to try it. I know how much you like sweets too.”

And Salazar has mentioned before how much he likes to feed the people he cares about. That flutter spreads, sending heat into my cheeks this time.

The flash of his smile says he knows he’s gotten to me. A well-laid plan.

He knocks the lab table with his knuckle softly before he backs away.

I putz around with my paperwork, writing up some notes on the regimes. The possibilities.

I’ve set up a file for each of my subjects, so I run the labs that I’m able to. I’m still waiting on some of the lab work that I don’t have the skill set to run myself.

At noon, I leave the lab, locking it up behind me.

I feel the attention of a group of nurses just down the hall. Three of them. A beautiful, tiny blonde woman. A busty brunette with a bad fake tan and fake lashes—I mean, not my thing, but to each their own. And a slender sandy-haired guy with a little too much flair not to be gay. Or bi.

Again, no judgments here.

But I’ve been here for a few weeks already, and they haven’t so much as blinked my way. Now, they’re flagging me down.

“Hey, we haven’t been able to properly introduce ourselves.” The blonde gives me an acrid smile, and I try to take it at face value, but my gut is churning. “You headed to lunch?”

They have me surrounded before I can respond. The brunette has her hand at my elbow, and I’m moving toward the cafeteria without making the conscious choice.

I’ve heard their names in passing, but they introduce themselves—Britney, Angelica, and Jeremy, in that order.

They chatter easily without me and pull me to their table when I’ve gotten my roasted sweet potato, side salad, and fried chicken strips. I catch how Britney rolls her eyes at Angelica before we sit.

I’ve met a million little groups like these three. Put-on friendliness. Show pity to the fat girl. Like I couldn’t possibly make friends for myself.

They’re wrong, but it takes far too much effort to combat it, so I go along. It’s not like I haven’t been here before.

It’s too bad I don’t see Salazar. He’d easily pull me over to sit with him. We do usually eat together after all.

Or is that why I’ve been bombarded by the Barbie squad today?

And these three are a bit intense. Giggling at some kind of inside jokes and half-cocked comment that I don’t want to think too hard about.

When I’m settled in and halfway through my salad, the questions start.

“So you’re the one working with the obese group, right? That’s so adorable.” Angelica crunches on a carrot stick. Loudly.

“Are you planning to help them lose weight?” Britney asks.

“Test the effects of an extra hundred pounds on joints and organs?” Jeremy’s brow raises.

That spikes my ire. “No. Not at all. I’m actually studying how physical activity without a change in diet can improve health, even in the obese and overweight. That we can be treated without everything revolving around how fat we are.”

The trio either doesn’t notice that their questions and comments—their judgments—bother me, or they’re openly laughing at me.

I’m betting on the second.

Britney’s mouth twists to the side. “Aw, that’s cute.”

The politeness falls, and I’m done pretending to be nice to people who can’t bother being nice in return.

“Good luck with that.” Angelica snickers again, stirring her yogurt and berries.

“And you had Dr. Wright sign off on that? He’s notorious for his views on the ideal body.”

I press my lips together and collect my lunch tray, ready to vacate this toxic table and go back to my lab and eat.

“Oh, don’t get offended.” Britney singsongs in her nasally voice. “It’s nearly impossible to change medical opinions with all of the proof we have about how dangerous it is to have excess weight like that.”

Like that . They mean, like me.

Before I can stand, there’s a presence behind me, stubble brushing my hair, and Salazar’s rich scent hits my nose.

“Hey, Liv. You didn’t save me a seat. Come on. I’ve got that treat I was telling you about.”

A renewed warmth fills me. One filled with gratitude and respect for my savior and the quick out.

I smile and turn toward him. We’re so close that this looks far more intimate than it should. And I don’t care one bit, not with the way their smiles and good-natured attitudes instantly drop.

The nickname is a great touch.

Salazar smiles back at me, all big and genuine. Affectionate.

He pulls out my chair for me and takes my tray like we’re on a date.

The sour faces from the trio are perfect.