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“Yes,” he says calmly. “I’m thinking about getting another one.”
“One you like or one that has meaning?”
“Both,” he answers softly. “An origami rabbit.”
I almost spit out my bite of waffle. I cough a few times, but Adrian just watches me. I don’t like the insinuation. But I wasn’t making rabbits. I was making birds. It’s not the same. It’s fine.
“I like the Chinese plate style—the Blue willow—with the blue and white. I was thinking of doing that as the paper with the folds done in gold,” he mumbles. “Maybe I’ll simplify and do a teacup repaired with gold and have the origami with it on a plate or something.”
“Why both?”
“Fixing broken things makes them stronger and more beautiful. I don’t know how well my skin will take the blue. We’ll have to see,” he says gently.
“And the origami?” I ask.
He takes another drink of coffee. “How does your knee feel?”
“I’m clumsy when drunk. It’s fine.”
“It could have been worse, Emily. I don’t like you drinking this much. It’s not my business—you’ll say that—but you have so much to offer and I don’t want you getting hurt,” he murmurs.
I gulp as he sighs and continues.
“Whether you’re with me or not, I prefer you in one piece. I don’t want you seeing how bad the world can be, and your being drunk and wild can appeal to the wrong kind of people,” he says and nods once. “I said it. I won’t lecture you.”
“Being drunk and wild also brought me to you once,” I whisper.
“Are you trying to recreate that… already?”
“No. I was trying to…” I shake my head. “Why’d you cancel class? You looked like shit on Monday, by the way.”
“So did you.”
We look at one another and Adrian finally cracks a small smile. “Oh, Kit–Emily… what am I going to do with you?”
“Ignore me. Should be easy. Plenty of people do,” I comment.
“I’m not plenty of people.”
“I know you’re not, Sir,” I say.
The second I say the word, my eyes drop to my plate. Adrian takes a slow breath even though his foot brushes mine. “Tone it down.”
“Are you saying that to me or you?” I ask.
“Don’t be a brat. I’m exhausted, you look amazing, and I’m trying very hard to ignore everything but taking care of you,” he grits.
“I told you not to be gentle.”
“I told you not to call me ‘Sir’,” he says.
We stare at one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. But the only move Adrian makes is to pay for my meal—since he ate nothing—get me to his car, then drop me off at my dorm.
I glance back as I open the door to the building and still see him there.
Not fucking a professor is a stupid rule, I decide it as I get inside, feeling sober, full, and tired. I’m twice as distracted by him now that I can’t touch him as I was when I thought we could get away with it.
“Fucking torture,” I grumble.
