Page 87 of Look Again

“See? Not so hard. You’d do it for him, right?”

Of course, I would.

Dexter points his phone at me and says, “I’d call Ginger, but we’re teetering on a tenuous politeness right now, and I don’t want to tip anything.”

I nod. “I’ll ask her,” I say. “Also, who says ‘teetering on a tenuous politeness’ anyway?”

Is he blushing? “Nerds. Nervous ones. Guys trying desperately to make a good impression.”

“I really like all those things,” I tell him, and I can’t stifle a yawn. “I think I’m falling asleep.”

“Good idea,” he whispers. “I’ll just sit here a few more minutes.”

I drift off holding one of his hands while the other strokes my hair.

I don’t wake for hours. It’s dark as I make my way to my bed, stopping only to brush my teeth and take a pain pill. I crawl in between the covers still wearing his sweater. Maybe I’ll wear it every day for the rest of my life.

When I wake next, I hear something banging against a solid surface. I clear my throat and try for enough projection to get my voice past my closed bedroom door.

“I hope you’re Ginger, because if someone’s breaking in to steal my really nice sauté pan, I’ve decided to just let you take it.”

The voice that answers is not Ginger’s. “Which one’s the sauté pan? I’d hate to steal the wrong one.” This is followed by a gentle tap at the bedroom door. Dexter Kaplan, looking delicious in a beanie and a plain flannel, puts his head into the room. “I made you some tea. I didn’t know which kind was your favorite, so I went with the box that only had two bags left inside.”

I motion for him to come in and push myself to a sitting position, holding my breath against what might be skull-cracking pain. But it’s not bad. Not great, but not bad.

He hands me the cup and sits in the chair next to my bed.

“I’m here to report that all your classes went well today. Every student was perfectly well-behaved, each of them spent hours exploring the campus, everyone took glorious pictures, and . . . I forgot the last thing.” Shrugging his shoulders, he grins at me. “Honestly, though? The kids did great. For a few minutes. It was record-breaking cold out there today, so Val brought everyone coffees and hot chocolates. Your assignment submissions are going to come back with a whole lot of views of mugs.”

The grin on my face has been growing through this recitation, and now threatens to crack my face in half. “Thank you,” I tell him. “For this,” I hold up the tea, “and for helping with classes. And for the detailed report.” I pull the blanket up higher.

“Dr. Moreau came to check on me while I was watching your kids drink cocoa.”

I feel the ache when my eyebrows come together. “Why?”

He shakes his head. “She wanted to see what I was wearing? Check if I was a good babysitter? She needed to know my opinion of the weather?”

“No, I guess not any of those.”

“No. She wants to meet with us tomorrow if you’re up to it. She wants to check in about the chair business, and she said she wants our input about how things are going.”

It just got harder to swallow. I lean over to put the tea mug down on the nightstand. He intercepts it and wraps his fingers around both my hands.

“Joey?”

I love the way my name sounds in his voice.

I don’t say anything.

He doesn’t move the tea mug or let go my hands.

“Mmm?”

“It’s going to be you.”

I finally manage to swallow that last sip of tea, but I don’t say anything. I don’t want to argue with him. Not about this. Not now.

“No, Dex,” I start.