I sat at my desk and ran a hand through my hair. I didn’t want to think about Hazel, but since Friday, she’d been a constant distraction, tickling the edge of my consciousness. Now that I was here, it was hard to think about anything else.
Her office was next door, but I hadn’t seen her yet. Maybe that was the problem. I was subconsciously anticipating a confrontation. She didn’t want me here; fine. But Elliott did, and he was the boss. We’d learn to live with each other eventually.
Maybe.
Had she stayed home today to avoid me? Was she in Elliott’s office right now making a case for getting rid of me? I heard footsteps in the hallway outside my office and looked up, expecting to see her. Did she always dress like a hot librarian?
Why did I keep thinking of her as hot?
A pair of students with backpacks slung over their shoulders walked by. Not Hazel.
Good.
Was it good?
I moved the now-empty box off my desk. Maybe I needed to get our first official meeting as co-workers over with. She could purse those lips and glare at me. Put her hands on her hips.
Those hips.
Sexy hips.
Again with the wandering mind. Sexy? No. Not Hazel Kiegen.
Then she did walk by.
Her stride slowed just enough for her to cast me a quick glance. Our eyes met. Hers narrowed and the flickering coal in my gut flared hot. And then she was gone, out of my line of sight.
Sexy? Yeah, she was. Damn it.
But sexy or not, Hazel and I weren’t going to get along. She didn’t like me, and the feeling was mutual. I’d just have to keep my distance. Ignore the fact that she was on the other side of the wall.
I grabbed my lunch and took it down the hall to the staff lounge so I could store it in the fridge until later. There were several cafeterias and restaurants on and around campus, but I hadn’t been sure what to expect on my first day, so I’d brought a sandwich.
A professor I hadn’t met yet sat at one of the round tables with a cup of coffee and an open book in front of her. She glanced up and gave me a friendly nod when I came in. The rest of the tables were empty, as were the cluster of armchairs near one of the windows. There was a half-full coffee pot on the counter and a few mugs sitting in a dish drainer by the sink.
I went to the fridge and found a spot for my brown lunch bag. Another, similar brown bag caught my eye. It was on the top shelf next to a large bottle of coffee creamer. But it wasn’t the fact that someone else had brown-bagged it today that made me pause with the refrigerator door hanging open. It was the name on the bag.
Hazel.
There was that flare again, a spark that made my blood run hot in my veins. Narrowing my eyes, I stared at the lunch bag, as if it were the source of my frustration.
I was struck by the way she’d written her name. If I’d taken the time to think about what sort of handwriting Hazel would have, I’d have assumed neat and tidy. Writing that was as precise and careful as her appearance. But these letters looked hastily scrawled, like she’d whipped her pen across the crinkling brown paper in a rush.
Why was I analyzing the handwriting on her lunch bag?
I was just about to close the refrigerator door when an impulse took hold. I grabbed Hazel’s lunch, took it out of the fridge, and deposited it in the freezer.
Without looking at the professor with her coffee, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and wandered back to my office. Nothing to see here. I hadn’t done anything. Nope, nothing at all.
I hesitated for a moment outside my door. Hers was mostly closed, a gap of six or seven inches between the door and the frame. A nameplate on the wall next to the door read Dr. Hazel Kiegen.
Was putting her lunch in the freezer childish and petty? Yeah. It really was. There was a logical guy somewhere inside of me who knew I was being dumb. Who tried to tell me I should really go back and take it out.
Did I listen to that guy? No. No, I did not.
Instead, my lips turned up in a subtle grin and I felt a spring in my step as I walked into my office.
It was time to get to work.
I almost forgot about Hazel while I dove into the department’s current data analytics system. My mind buzzed with ideas. There were so many ways to make this process more efficient. Shortcuts and algorithms that would streamline data analysis across studies. Ways to manipulate and display their raw numbers that would make it easier to tease out the meaning behind the data.
My stomach brought my attention back to my physical reality. There weren’t many things that could get me to stop once I got excited about a project, but hunger was one of them.
Hazel wasn’t in her office when I left to go to the staff lounge. Not that I looked very hard. But her door was open more than the crack it had been earlier, and I didn’t see her at her desk.
I wandered back to the lounge, a few comic books tucked under my arm, and felt a twinge of anxiety. Nothing like I would have as a kid. Back then, eating lunch in the crowded, noisy cafeteria had been the worst part of my day. Mostly because I usually sat alone, and being the kid who sits alone in the cafeteria sucks balls.
Sometimes Molly had taken pity on her nerdy brother and sat with me. But she’d been a popular social butterfly. I’d known I couldn’t count on her to rescue me from my social isolation. So most days I’d eaten alone, or with a handful of other awkward kids, generally doing my best to disappear. Wishing that eating while doing extra credit math assignments had been as cool as it was fun.
But I wasn’t an awkward kid anymore. I was geeky as hell, and I knew it, but I’d learned to embrace who I was. Discovering I could work out and look physically powerful had helped. By the time I was a senior in high school, I hadn’t exactly been homecoming king—that had been Molly’s boyfriend, and of course she’d been queen—but no one had messed with me either. Bullies were usually cowards who preyed on the weak. Big biceps made it clear I wasn’t weak, even if I’d spent my lunch hours studying advanced calculus.
However, there was still that nerdy kid inside me who got nervous in new situations.
The staff lounge was only about half-full, and much quieter than a school cafeteria. A few of the tables were occupied, as were most of the armchairs. I grabbed my lunch out of the fridge, took a seat at a table, and flipped through my comic while I ate.
My skin prickled and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Lifting my eyes, I wondered why the air suddenly felt like it was full of static electricity.
Hazel. Of course it was Hazel.
My eye twitched and I felt my heart thump. She was dressed in a cardigan over her blouse and a pair of slacks instead of a skirt today. Still very much the hot librarian, especially with her dark-rimmed glasses.
Oh shit. I’d put her lunch in the freezer this morning, hadn’t I?
For a second, I regretted it. The logical guy in my head got loud, reminding me that being dickish wasn’t going to help.
Then our eyes met. Hers narrowed with a look of challenge and the coal in my gut flared hot. It chased logic back into the recesses of my brain, replacing it with childish glee.
I tore my eyes away and pretended she didn’t exist. Or tried to. Every one of my senses reached for her, seeking feedback. I could practically feel her displacing the molecules in the air as she walked to the fridge.
She stood just inside my peripheral vision. I forced myself not to turn and look while she opened the refrigerator door. Swallowed a chuckle as she leaned down and moved things around, looking for her lunch. She straightened, glanced around the room, and resumed her search.