Page 58 of Wrong For Me

He grunts in agreement. “We’re only a week in and I’m already going to be chained to my desk this weekend.”

“Is that what you were working on in the office?” I ask. “Catching up on reading?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. There’s a fellowship I’m looking into.” The second the words are out of his mouth, he clamps it shut, jaw going rigid. It’s pretty obvious from his flattened expression that he regrets the words. Weird.

Trying to put him at ease, I reach for what I know. And what I know is school. “Oh, the Williamson Fellowship? That’s really prestigious. Are you going for it? Dr. Cooper tried to talk me into it before she went on bed rest but I’m not sure where I’ll ever find the time to even put together the application.”

If possible, Leo goes even more stiff. Tension radiates off his body in heavy waves, making me immediately uncomfortable.

“I’m sure it’s difficult,” he mutters through gritted teeth. His jaw has gone marble sharp. “Fitting in little things like grant applications around your very busy schedule. Let me guess—too many red-carpet events?”

I have to force my eyes to stay on the road. My brain is demanding I gape at him, try to make sense of his sudden change of mood. The nearly-breathtaking return of his previous nastiness.

What in the hell is his problem?

It’s a long moment before I think my voice will be strong enough to speak without shaking. During the silence, the tension doubles between us. “Actually, my job at Haven House women’s shelter takes up quite a bit of my free time. But it’s really cool of you to make assumptions.”

Thank God my phone chooses that moment to indicate we’ve reached his apartment complex. It’s big and sprawling with several buildings spread out across the property. I pull into the first lot we come to, not bothering to ask him to direct me to his specific building. The asshole can fucking walk the rest of the way.

“Rose—” he begins, voice tight with an emotion I can’t read. Regret? Anger? Guilt? I find I don’t care enough to ask. Or to let him finish his sentence.

“Have a good weekend,” I say pointedly, staring straight ahead.

He tries again. “Look, I... I’m sorry. That was…rude.”

I snort out a laugh. “Sounds like par for the course then, huh?” I turn to face him. “You know what, Leo? It’s fine. You clearly can’t stand to be near me, for reasons I can’t begin to wrap my mind around. But that’s fine—I honestly don’t care. You think some asshole making fun of my family’s money and fame is new to me? You think you’respecial?”

I’m breathing hard now, and a quick glance in the rearview mirror tells me I’m flushed. Damn it. I hate that my complexion always makes it so obvious when I’m upset. I take a deep breath. “Here’s your chance to enjoy two full days without me around to bother you. So why don’t you head up to your apartment now so you can get started.”

“Rose.” His voice is soft and sad and this time the regret is obvious. But I don’t care. I just want him gone.

“Goodbye, Leo,” I say, my tone brooking no arguments.

He sits for a moment, studying the side of my face, but when I refuse to turn to look at him, he finally sighs. “Thank you for the ride,” he says softly, pushing his door open. “And…sorry. For being such an asshole.”

Of course, my traitorous tears would choose that moment to sting my eyes. I blink rapidly, determined that he won’t see them. The second the door is closed, I throw my car into drive and take off, tires squealing as I rush through the parking lot and back out onto the road.

I have no idea what that was all about. No idea why he decided to act like a halfway decent—and normal!—human being for a few hours this afternoon, only to go and throw it back in my face at the end of the day.

But that’s how it’s been from the start with him, hasn’t it? Completely hot and cold. All over me one minute, then ignoring me the next. Pissed when he found out we were working together, then very-nearly friendly this afternoon. And then careening once again into whatever the hell that was just now.

It doesn’t matter,I remind myself. Leo Malone can be an asshole all he wants. It has nothing to do with me. All I have to do is put up with him for the hours that we’re stuck together working on Hernandez’s sections. Maybe we can start to hold our office hours in different locations. I wouldn’t mind letting students meet me in the library, instead.

Fuck that,a defiant voice that sounds a lot like my mother’s mutters in my head. I’m not going to be the one to change my routine. He’s the one that has a problem with me, he’s the one that can find another place to work.

I just hope he does it soon. Because I don’t think I can stand to spend another day like today.