Page 121 of Any Port in a Storm

“I’ve got my usual Tuesday classes, and then I’m supposed to go out to trivia with Max.” His gaze slides over me with great interest. “But I’m considering cancelling if it might mean a repeat of last night.”

“You can’t declare your love for the first time more than once,” I tease, intentionally skirting his implication.

He smirks. “Watch me.”

I knock on Spillinger’s door, then look down at my phone. It’s 3:15. This is exactly when I usually meet her. She has a lecture until three, and I stop by almost every Tuesday to go over my dissertation progress.

Leaning forward, I knock again.

Silence.

Fortunately, Spillinger gave me her phone number, way back when she took me to the Massachusetts Literary Symposium a couple years back. I type out a quick text. Are you holding office hours today?

Her reply is unusually terse. Sorry, Laurel. Can’t make it today.

I wrinkle my brow. Spillinger’s never sick, and I actually thought I saw her in the hallway earlier. I hope everything’s okay.

I’d also really been hoping to talk some things over with her. A primary source document I just got access to has some puzzling inconsistencies, and I’m eager to get her take.

I guess it’ll have to wait until next week.

Shouldering my bag, I head back outside and dial Nick.

“Hey,” he says, sounding shockingly out of breath.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he gasps. “Just out running with Max.”

“He’s really a great influence on you,” I quip.

“Don’t let him hear you say that. It’ll go right to his head.”

I can just make out Max’s “I heard that!”

“Well, I should let you get back to it. I was just calling to let you know that Spillinger’s out, or sick, or something. So my afternoon just freed up.”

“Huh.” I can’t tell if it’s the exercise or something else, but Nick’s voice slides into an oddly tentative tone. “That’s strange.”

Maybe it’s just because I’m overstepping—he’s with his friend, and they’re supposed to go out tonight. This is pretty stereotypical new girlfriend behavior, I suppose—suddenly dominating all of my boyfriend’s time, just because we finally slapped a label on our relationship.

I decide to back off. I don’t want to scare Nick away.

“Anyway, let me know if you want to come over after trivia, okay?”

Nick doesn’t miss a beat. “Why don’t you come with us?”

“Oh,” I start. “I don’t want to intrude on your bro time.”

The sound of Nick’s feet pounding the pavement stops. “We aren’t having bro time.”

“Bro time?” Max asks in the background.

“Laurel thinks we’re having bro time,” Nick replies.

I hear Max snort.

“Say ‘bro time’ again,” I tease.