Page 3 of Lessons in Chemistry

“Umm, yes.” He takes a huge textbook out of his bag. It has about a million thin Post-it Notes sticking out of it in all directions. “Chapter twenty.” He flips to the right chapter and shows it to me.

Not that I’m looking at the book. I’m still staring at his eyes. I’ve never stood this close to him before. “Sorry, I can’t get over how blue your eyes are. And the contrast between your eyes and that dark ring thing around them.”

“You mean my iris and my limbal ring?”

“Your what now?”

“Limbal ring. It’s where the cornea and sclera meet and form a border around your iris.”

I gape at him. “I have no idea what you just said. Did we have to know that for today’s lecture?”

He smiles. A little U-shape appears at the right corner of his mouth. “No.” He taps the chapter title. “Today’s lecture is on cardiovascular pharmacology. We have an essay due too. Have you done it?”

“An essay?”

“Yes. Professor Richards set it two weeks ago.”

“Oh. No. I must have missed that lecture.” Fuck. Yet more ammunition for Dad to berate me with.

“Time to go in,” the cute nerd says. He stares at me for a moment longer, his eyes wary, and then enters the lecture hall.

Despite an overwhelming urge to turn and run for the closest bar, I follow him inside, but whereas he goes and sits at the front, I find a seat in the back row. Doing so helps me avoid having to answer any questions. Not that Professor Richards makes a habit of picking on people. He only chooses students with their hands up. Guess who puts their hand up to answer every single question? The cute nerd.

I spend more time watching him than paying attention. Not that it would do me any good if I did. The bits I listen to go in one ear and out the other. I don’t understand any of it. I don’t care how drugs affect the heart. This stuff is Dad’s passion, not mine.

“August Cunningham.” Professor Richards’s voice snaps out the moment the lecture ends. “A moment of your time, please.”

I traipse down the steps towards him while everyone else leaves, dropping their assignments into a box on their way out the door. Almost everyone else. The cute nerd hangs back, his rucksack looped over his shoulder as though he wants to talk to Professor Richards about something.

“It was nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Professor Richards says in a stiff voice.

Holy hell, does Dad have this guy on speed dial too? I know I’m far from the only student to skip more classes than I attend. It’s part of university life.

“I notice you don’t have an essay for me.”

I rub the back of my neck. “I wasn’t here when it was set. Flu.” I fake cough.

Professor Richards presses his lips together. He takes a sheet of paper off his desk. “I’m giving you a one-week extension.”

I glance at the paper, which has the essay question and some suggested reading material on it. “Umm, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He gestures to the door.

I scrunch the paper into my bag, probably to be forgotten about, and then take the steps two at a time. I pause at the door and glance back at the cute nerd. He’s talking to the professor. My guess is he’s asking a question. He looks at me and gives me the slightest of smiles before focusing on the professor once more. I grin and walk out the door. The cute nerd likes me.

2

EMORY

The door to my flat clicks open. I glance out the window. When did it get dark? The door thuds closed. I check the time. It’s nine thirty. No wonder I’m tired. I push my glasses onto my forehead and rub my eyes. I’d lost track of time doing university work. Not my university work but rather a better breakdown of the essay topic that Professor Richards had given us and a more specific list of reading material, right down to page numbers. Don’t ask me why, but the panicked look in August Cunningham’s eyes made me want to help him. Not that I know him. I didn’t even know his name until Professor Richards shouted it after this afternoon’s lecture.

“Hey, Em.”

I turn on my swivel chair and smile brightly. “Hi. How was training?”

Casey, my flatmate and best friend since primary school, leans against my doorframe. I always leave my door open when it’s okay for him to come in, which is most of the time.

“Tiring, but great.” The exhaustion on his face tempers the shine in his eyes.