Page 76 of The Tartan Thesis

I jerk my head back toward her so fast the ladder shudders precariously underfoot. “Freya! Not while I’m up this high!”

“Fine, I’ll wait till you’re on the ground to ask about your little make-out session the other night,” she says with a shrug.

I wind the lights around the hook and scurry down the ladder, my face burning. “Keep your voice down,” I say, glancing around at the lingering crew. “People can hear you. And how do you know about that? Did Beau say something?”

“It’s fine, no one’s listening,” she says, waving away my concerns. “And of course he didn’t say anything. I’m sure he’s too much of a gentleman to kiss and tell.”

“Then how—”

“I got up to get some water that night and saw you. I’ve been dying to say something but haven’t had the chance to talk to you on your own.”

“Christ,” I say, putting my hands over my face. “Please tell me you haven’t said anything to him.”

“Much as I wanted to tease both of you about it, I didn’t. I’m not a total fanny.”

I sigh. “Good.”

“I have to say,” she continues, voice turning mischievous, “Beau looks good in everything, but he looked exceptional in that towel. Seemed like it was barely hanging on.” My face heats again, but Freya’s not done. “And he’s so broad. I mean, that back!” She fans herself. “Have you raked your fingers down it while he makes sweet love to you yet?” She wags her eyebrows, and I briefly consider putting a mouse in her bed.

“Okay, that’s enough. You’ve had your fun.” I grab the ladder and head to the next hook, trying not to picture Beau on top of me—sweaty, panting. Though it wouldn’t be the first time the image has crossed my mind…

“That wasn’t a no,” she says, smirking.

I sigh again. “No, Freya. He hasn’t made sweet love to me. He’s not going to. We’ve kissed a couple of times, but I think he just likes the idea of a holiday romance,” I say, shrugging to show how very unconcerned I am about the situation with my gorgeous classmate. “Once we get back to Edinburgh, things will go back to normal. He’s not into me, and even if he were, I don’t want the distraction. You know how I feel about my studies. Nothing is more important.”

“Wait.” She blinks. “You’ve kissed more than once?”

“Freya, there’s nothing there,” I say, ignoring her question. “This is just a bit of fun for him. He’s enjoying all that Scotland has to offer, and I’m the convenient option for a Highland fling. There is nothing long-term about what’s happening right now.”

Despite how much time we’ve spent together the last few days, Beau and I haven’t even touched since the night of our kiss. He’s helped around the farm, we’ve visited some more historical sites, and we’ve gotten ready for bed together, but he’s been all manners since the day we went to Inverness.

Freya comes to hold the ladder again. “How do you know he’s just having fun? Did he say that? Have you talked about it? Because I know you, and you’re only confident about your academics.” She hesitates. Then, “Ever since James broke your heart, you’ve doubted everything else about yourself.”

I tense, emotions roiling in my belly.

“Can we please not talk about James?” I ask, my voice frosty. “I’m over him.” I’m clearly not over him, given the pit in my stomach at the mere mention of his name. “He moved back to London,” I say, keeping my tone in check. “He got what he came for, and he left.”

He left the country. He left me.

“And you think Beau will do the same?” she asks. “You think he’s like James?”

No, I answer firmly in my head. Beau isn’t like James at all. He’s better in every way, but the past few days have been… confusing, and I no longer know what to think. I want Beau, but I don’t know if he wants me, or if it’s just casual. And I don’t do casual. I need to know he’s not going to use me and then walk away when it’s convenient. Like James did.

“Think whatever you want, Freya,” I say, brushing her off. “I’m not getting into this with you because there’s nothing to get into.”

“Fine,” she says, raising her hands in surrender.

“Freya!” I bark, grabbing the rafters. “Hands on the ladder!”

“Oh—right.” She catches it again with a sheepish grin. “But one last thing?”

“Out with it.” I’m so ready for this conversation to be over.

“It’s just…” She hesitates. “The way Beau looks at you, the way he treats you… It doesn’t seem like a fling to me.”

My heart soars at her pronouncement, but I work to keep it in check. I can’t get my hopes up only to have them dashed.

“Mum and Dad have noticed, too,” she says, and heat floods my face, knowing my family have been talking about this. “Please just give him a chance, and more importantly, give yourself one. I know James downplayed all the wonderful things you have to offer, but he was wrong. I know that. And I think Beau does, too.”