Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
If Finkwell thought any portion of my first draft was worthy to send off for a preliminary glance, I was in a better position than I’d hoped. This was thrilling news…amazing, overwhelming, intriguing.
“That’s…great.” Oh, dear. Jett was rubbing off on me. I shifted nervously on the office chair facing his desk and tried again. “Just…great.”
The professor chuckled lightly. “Indeed. It’s been a while since I’ve inquired into your postgraduation plans. I assume your plan is to teach.”
“Yes, and do research, and…follow in your footsteps as best I can,” I blurted.
Finkwell raised his bushy brows. “I’m flattered. Have you thought about where you’d like to apply?”
I could tell by his tone that was a leading query.
“No,” I replied. “I’m open to suggestions.”
He listed a few options. Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Cornell seemed a tad ambitious, and the colleges in California, Florida, and Texas seemed too far. “There’s always St. Clement’s. It’s a fine private institution located near Buffalo—a sister school to Smithton as you probably know. I think you’d fit in well there and…I have it on good authority that they’ll have an opening in the physics department next year.”
St. Clement’s? Oh, my. Stay calm, Malcolm. No hyperventilating.
“That’s…wow. I know it well. That would be an incredible opportunity,” I said.
Finkwell inclined his head. “I happen to know the department chair. If you’re interested in setting up a preliminary meeting sometime, I can help with that.”
“Thank you, Professor!” I shot to my feet in a flash, reaching across his desk to clasp his hands ardently. “Thank you very much.”
I practically skipped out of his office and across campus, my brain buzzing with ideas of grandeur. I’d planned out a curriculum and decorated an imaginary office as I swung open the door to the rink. It wasn’t until I was face-to-face with the bored-looking student manning the reception desk that I realized I’d forgotten the tracking device.
“Can I help you?”
“Uh…” I fiddled with my glasses and cleared my throat. “I have a hockey experiment and a hockey person is um…expecting me.”
She shrugged imperceptibly. “Go for it.”
I spotted the lone figure on the ice, skating loops around the perimeter. I waved my arms in greeting, grinning as Jett came to a dramatic stop in front of me.
“You’re late, Maloney.”
“I know. Sorry. I met with Professor Finkwell and I…” I caught my breath and reveled in the warmth of his sunny smile. “It’s good to see you.”
He leaned on the board and squeezed my hand affectionately. “What’s up? Before you tell me, I just gotta say…you look hot as fuck.”
“Thanks.” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip.
His gaze dipped to my mouth and stayed there. “Shit, you’re distracting.”
I chuckled. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” he huffed, pointing at the bench. “I left skates for you. Where’s the tracking stuff?”
“I forgot it. Or I thought I’d have time to go home after meeting with the professor, but I didn’t.”
I plopped onto the bench, dropped my bag, and shoved my feet into the borrowed blades.
The skating part was a new development. We’d decided to stick to our original plan of meeting at the rink—once a week, instead of twice—as a sort of currency to cash in if we were spotted together in town. Jett liked the idea, but only if I tried to skate. It wasn’t as painful or scary as I’d feared. I was slow and methodical and probably looked like a newborn foal finding its legs.
But my new vantage on the ice gave me perspective that would certainly be useful in my thesis. And even if it wasn’t, being in Jett’s orbit while he raced by me on a sheet of ice was a rush.
“How’d it go?” he asked, reaching for a stick propped against the board and then handing it to me.
“Great, I—” I wrinkled my nose, holding the stick out like a dirty diaper. “What’s this?”
“A hockey stick. C’mon, hot stuff. We got twenty minutes before the guys start rolling in for practice.”
I peered at the pile of pucks between the face-off circles. “I don’t need a stick.”
“How else are you gonna shoot the puck, Maloney?”
“I’m not going to shoot any pucks. I’m here to measure your…attributes.”
“Oh, yeah?” He waggled his brows.
“Allegedly.”
“Hey.”
I snickered. “I meant for the sake of appearances.”
Jett frowned as if unhappy with my choice of words, but he smiled again and motioned me to his side. “Let’s make mincemeat out of these pucks.”
“I don’t—”
“No sass. This is what you get when you forget to bring your supplies. An in-class assignment with the expert. That’s me, by the way. I’m the expert.”
“I can barely stand upright on these things. I’ll fall if I try to do anything else,” I argued.
“I’ll catch you.”
My heart did a cartwheel and a somersault that momentarily left me breathless. I knew the sentiment wasn’t meant to be taken literally, but gosh, it sounded utterly romantic. I waddle-skated toward him with my head in the clouds, too bewitched to put up further resistance.