The Unexpected Variable (Eastwood U Book 1) by Callan Rowe

Author:Callan Rowe [Rowe, Callan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-27T16:00:00+00:00

I’m surprised to see that Cole is already in his seat when I make it up to the science center. I guess he wasn’t kidding about running out the door. With the way he’s slumped over the desk and the black hoodie pulled up to cover his head he looks like he’s more ready for bed than a 50-minute lecture. Good thing I’m here to save the day.

I plop into my seat and his head perks up at the noise. I slide over the extra coffee that I brought without saying anything. His tired eyes widen in surprise and a huge grin stretches across his face.

“I knew you cared about me,” he teases, reaching for the cup.

I play it cool, like I didn’t just have a mini freak out in my kitchen. “I just didn’t want you getting any ideas about me sharing my coffee.”

“My hero.” He takes a big sip, closes his eyes, and lets out an exaggerated groan.

I snort out a laugh. “Now you sound like me.”

A charming smile spreads back across his face. “I really appreciate it, Meatloaf. I would’ve been way too scared to come between you and your morning fix.”

As he speaks, the corners of his eyes crinkle and the look he gives me can only be described as affectionate. I’m so distracted by the way his long lashes graze his cheeks as he blinks that I almost miss how his smile drops suddenly and he abruptly looks away.

He’s definitely looking a little pale, so I hope the coffee I brought him isn’t making him feel any worse than he looks.

That would be so embarrassing, and the more I think about it the more I’m questioning whether or not the cream was fresh. I’m sure it was, because I had some, too. But, what if I get a delayed reaction? Oh, god. It definitely would have smelled though, right?

I duck my head and focus on getting my laptop out of my bag so that he doesn’t see the pink creeping into my cheeks. My heart thunders so loudly in my ears, it’s a wonder he doesn’t hear it.

I take a few calming breaths as I finish booting up my ancient laptop, telling myself to relax and that the cream was fine. As soon as I feel my face returning to a normal color and temperature, I turn to ask Cole how the rest of his fall break was. Even though he’s pushed his hood back—his dark brown locks messily shoved in various directions—his gaze is fixed solidly on the front of the classroom, lips pinched in a tight line.

I don’t think it was the cream. He doesn’t necessarily look angry—definitely not sick—but his posture is tense and he’s oddly still. Normally, he’s already looking directly at me anytime I turn his way. But the rigid way he’s holding his body, the clenched fist around his pen, the pinched lips and the way he won’t look away from the front of the room tells me that he’s dealing with something.

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