That’s it. He wants to make me look bad in front of Tate. He’s trying to ruin me the way he thinks I hurt him.
“Your dean was kind enough to distribute an email to third- and fourth-year students giving them time slots to meet,” Tate goes on. “I asked him to start with your Stars team. I can’t wait to see the impression you’ve had on them since we last met.”
19
Olivia
Our tower is amazing. I stop in front of the engineering building and smile.
After my midterm, I head to Sawyer’s office for lunch.
His irritated expression dissolves when he spots me. “Everything okay?”
I shut the door behind me.
“Well, my history midterm went all right but I have two labs to turn in before the end of the week, and this panel to speak on, and we need to write and rehearse the justification presentation for Stars.”
Sawyer surprises me as he bends to claim my lips with his.
It’s possessive and searching and I reach up and run my fingers through his hair.
“We need to talk,” he says when he pulls back.
“Yeah. I guess we do.”
We haven’t touched since Saturday night at his open house, and I’m aching for him.
Our encounter was super hot, but when he came to get us after the accident, he was distant.
Not that I expected him to grab me in front of my classmates, but the look in his eyes was removed. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or shaken or both.
A knock on the door makes me stiffen.
Sawyer steps back and opens it.
It’s Tate.
Sawyer’s friend from New York is familiar in a dark suit, his hair neatly trimmed and smile warm yet professional.
“Good, you’re both here. I’m hoping to speak to you. Especially you, Miss Barclay.” His smile fades as he takes in my bruise. “Did something happen?”
I duck my face. “No. Just a prank gone wrong.”
He clears his throat, but the wariness lingers. “I’m not sure how much your professor has told you, but we have plans for a new effort.”
Sawyer returns to his desk. Tate sinks into the chair opposite him.
I don’t know what script I’m supposed to follow, so I take the remaining seat.
“I understand you’re going into business together.”
People pass in the hall.
I stick out my legs, my feet slipping under the edge of the desk. It feels weird that I can’t touch Sawyer.
“Yes. I was very impressed with your adaptability at regionals,” Tate goes on. “Your grades are strong, but more than that, creativity and working under pressure are integral to being a good engineer. Which is why you should consider us for your internship in the summer.”
“Excuse me?”
My gaze flies to Sawyer’s.
Did he and Tate talk about this?
“I’m not confident that’s in our collective best interest,” Sawyer says smoothly.
Tate frowns. “Do you have an internship already? We can offer an excellent package.”
My mouth opens and closes. I hadn’t really considered where I’d intern. Adam said he’d have room at his parents’ company, but I’d rather work somewhere else.
“Olivia—may I call you Olivia?” Tate asks.
“Of course.”
Professor Redmond calls me whatever he wants when he’s fucking me.
“I understand you might be concerned with a potential conflict…”
The floor tilts under me.
“…because Professor Redmond is responsible for your grade. But it won’t affect that. Sawyer, tell her.”
“To be frank, Tate, I’m not sure this is the right fit for everyone.”
Hurt seeps into my chest, stinging. “I assure you, Professor Redmond, I’m as capable as any intern you’d hope to find.”
His eyes flash in warning. “And while I appreciate your flexibility”—my brows lift—“there’s more to success than that.”
“Sawyer! For God’s sake, you are the worst recruiter.” Tate glowers. “I have another meeting. But think about it,” he says to me before rising and heading for the door. “If you’d like to talk, I’ll be around. Here’s my card.”
He spares us a final look on the way out, leaving us alone, the door still open.
“What was that?” Sawyer demands once Tate is gone.
“You tell me. It’s your business partner who sprung this on me.” Sawyer’s words about this being a bad fit echo in my mind. “Am I that terrible, you wouldn’t consider me for an internship at your company?”
“Of course I would. But we can’t work together.”
“Because of rumors from your last company?”
“Because anyone could take one look at us and know I’m…” He rubs a hand over his jaw.
My heart thuds in my chest. “You’re what?”
Sleeping with me?
There are words I suddenly want him to say, ones I’ve never dared hope for.
Say this is as real and right as it is crazy.
Say when you close your eyes, it’s me you see.
Say we have a chance to not only be free, but to be happy.
But I’m trying to make my own way, not jump from being under my parents’ control to under this man’s. It’s one thing for him to have my back, another to depend on him for my security, my future.
“You’d be working for me,” he says, softer. “You think there’s a gap now, it’ll be even more obvious when you’re a junior engineer and I’m running the company.”
“Or we’d stop doing what we’re doing.”
I’m not making a suggestion, only enumerating the other obvious option, but his gaze sharpens.
My stomach flips, as if I’m staring down a long hill, treacherously steep.
“I mean,” I stumble on, “summer’s a long time away. And my future is important to me. If I have to choose, maybe I’d rather work with you than…”
“Fuck me.”
That doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t feel right either.
Yes, we’re sleeping together, yet it’s so much more than that.
But he’s staring so intently, I nod.
“Fine,” he bites out. “So we’d stop.”
He says it as if it’s easy for him to turn it off, what we’re doing. A decision made in a heartbeat.
I’m tumbling down the hill now, the ground slamming into me everywhere.
“Is that what you want?” I ask, struggling for breath.
Sawyer’s hands grip the armrests of his chair.
I get that there’s a legit concern about conflict of interests.
The truth is, I can’t see myself looking at him every day and not want to be with him.
He reaches into his drawer and produces a brown paper bag—lunch, probably.
Our hands brush. His touch lingers, his thumb stroking the back of my knuckles.
“Let’s just focus on what’s happening now,” he murmurs. “If the Stars team does well in the justification and makes it to finals, you can write your own ticket.”