Page 44 of The Tartan Thesis

I laugh, and Maeve tilts her head, studying Torin with open fascination.

“What?” Torin says, chuckling nervously under the weight of her stare.

“It’s just that I pride myself on being able to read people,” she says, resuming her ladling, “and I never thought I’d hear you, Torin Ramsay, say that you do something for the whimsy of it.”

“Whimsy is sexy,” I say without thinking. The words hang in the air. My face heats so quickly, I feel like I’m standing too close to a fire. Seriously, what did she put in this punch?

Torin’s head swivels in my direction again, eyes wide, mouth agape. Maeve looks between us with sly eyes while she refills my cup. She opens her mouth, clearly about to say something devastatingly Maeve-like, but Isla appears and leans down over the punch bowl, inspecting it with a wary look. “Is this the same holiday concoction you made last year?” Bless her and her perfect timing.

The two of them begin to reminisce, so I look to Torin and lift my cup, tipping my head toward the other side of the room in silent invitation. He nods and follows me.

After a few awkward moments of us taking sips of our drinks and glancing around the room, I wonder how to get past my last comment. I put on a smile and pick a topic I know he’ll like.

“Sounds like you’re close with your sister,” I say, and he lights up again.

“Freya is my best friend, always has been,” he says. “I mentioned that things were tough for me growing up as the bookworm who liked history and musicals far more than sport?”

I nod, signalling for him to go on.

“She was actually pretty athletic and couldn’t sit still long enough to enjoy a book. She also can’t sing her way out of a wet paper bag, but she’s always understood me and my interests. Maybe it’s a twin’s instinct, or maybe it’s all the shared life experiences we had growing up, but we just get each other. She’s my favorite person in the world.”

My heart warms hearing Torin’s fondness for his sister. He’s rarely so open about his feelings, so it feels like I’m being allowed a glimpse through a crack in the wall he’s kept so carefully constructed.

“She sounds amazing,” I say. “I hope I get the chance to meet her someday.”

He takes a sip, his gaze drifting somewhere over my shoulder as if he’s pondering something. Before I can ask him what he’s thinking, Maeve and Isla rejoin us.

We spend the rest of the evening laughing and talking about anything but school. I drink slowly and make an effort not to make too much eye contact with Torin because he gets skittish every time our gazes meet. At some point, Professor Drummond gives a short speech congratulating everyone on a fine term and wishing us a happy Christmas and Hogmanay.

We raise our cups and toast. Maeve really wasn’t joking about the punch. I’m not a huge drinker, but I’m also not a lightweight, literally or figuratively. Still, I’m halfway through my third cup when I blow right past a buzz and land squarely in the “drunk” category. The room seems a little brighter, the laughter louder. When I take a step to the side, my foot meets the floor a split second before I think it should. Time to go. Being inebriated in a professional setting is not a good look. I set my cup down, then make my excuses at a lull in the conversation.

Maeve hugs me tight and makes me promise I’ll call her tomorrow. Isla gives me a quick squeeze, and we wish each other happy holidays. Then I turn to Torin. Without really thinking about it, I step forward and wrap my arms around him. He hugs me back, and the contact sends a zing of longing deep in my chest that lingers even after we pull apart.

He’s fighting back a smile as I turn toward the door.

I exit the building and marvel at the beautiful night, crisp and cold with light snowfall dusting the city. I breathe in deeply, grinning ear to ear. Edinburgh is even more magical at Christmas with lights twinkling from the now familiar shops and pubs as I leave campus.

I’m still smiling as I get closer to home, my cheeks flushed from winter air and rum punch, as I realize I’m the happiest I’ve been since I arrived. A couple of months ago, I’d seriously considered packing everything up and going back to Texas for good. Now I’m glad I didn’t.

I don’t have my final grades back yet, but I know I’m doing better than before, and I’ve become close with my classmates, especially Maeve.

And then there’s Torin. I consider him a friend, and he’s certainly friendlier with me now than before.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out assuming it’s The Pigeons.

Torin

Hey

My face lights up brighter than my screen as I type a response.

Beau

Were your ears burning? I was just thinking about you.

Note to self: drunk texting is a terrible life choice. Three little dots appear as Torin begins typing, then vanish. A moment later they return, then disappear once more. I picture him staring at his phone, the way I am now. Nearly a full minute passes before my phone lights up again.

Torin