Loathe to Love You (The STEMinist Novellas #1-3)(22)

Shit.

I try really hard not to let my eyes take in how cozy and comfortable he looks, how familiar and at ease. It’s nothing like what happens when he and I accidentally bump against each other in the hallway, like that charged, electric tension that seems to crackle between us when we forget ourselves and our hands happen to brush together. But that’s the point, right? Any physical contact between me and Liam is probably unwanted on his part, while this . . .

This is mortifying. I want to get out of this room and never come back. Buy an insulated lunch bag and a camping stove, shove them in my bedroom, and be completely self-sufficient.

The woman, though, doesn’t seem nearly as unsettled, or self-conscious about the fact that she’s currently perched on a piece of furniture in a home that’s not hers, her skirt riding up to show long, toned legs. She smiles at me, and somehow, somewhere, I find my voice. “Sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt . . . I wanted to get something to drink, and I . . .” And I? And I will now go to my room to flush myself down the toilet. Good-bye, cruel world.

“I thought you’d be . . .” Liam’s voice seems deeper than usual. I wonder if they were about to take whatever this is to his bedroom. Oh God. Oh God, I just interrupted my roommate and his girlfriend. I’m such a loser. “Out. I thought you’d be out.”

Oh. Right. I was supposed to go on a date myself. With Ted. Something I agreed to do the other day under the impetus of: meh, why not? This morning I told Liam why I’d be home late, except that I ended up canceling because . . . I didn’t really feel like going.

For some reason.

That is unclear to me.

“No. I mean, yes. Yes, I was. But . . .” I gesture vaguely in the air. As good an explanation as I can come up with.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I . . .” I should really go to my room and do that self-flushing thing. But it’s hard, with Liam staring at me like that. Half-curious, half-happy to see me, half–something else. It’s the first time I find him with someone who’s not Calvin or another one of his dude friends he’s obviously known since forever, someone who’s clearly . . . Okay. He’s on a date. With a woman. About to get laid, probably. And I interrupted. Shit.

“I’m . . . I’m gonna go now, so you guys can—”

“No need,” a voice says.

A voice? Ah. Yes. Right. There is a third person in the room. A beautiful woman with long dark hair who’s still sitting on the counter, glancing with captivated interest between me and Liam, and . . .

“I was just about to leave,” she says. But it’s a lie. She was definitely not about to leave. “Right, Liam?” She and Liam exchange a silent, loaded look that I’d give half a kidney to be able to decipher.

“Oh, no. You don’t have to leave,” I say weakly. “I—”

“By the way, I’m going to introduce myself, since Liam here is clearly not going to.” She hops down with grace that I’ve seen only in ballet dancers and Olympic gymnasts before, and holds out her hand. I hate myself for trying to remember if it’s the same hand that was wrapped around Liam’s arm while her head was on his shoulder. “I’m Emma. You must be the famous Mara?”

Why she would know my name is an absolute mystery. Unless Emma and Liam are very serious, and then Liam would have mentioned his annoying roommate once or twice, and will you look at that? It appears that I just cannot bear the thought. “Yes. Um . . . Nice to meet you.”

Emma’s handshake is cool and firm. She smiles briefly, nice and self-assured, then turns to pick up her jacket from a stool.

“Well. This was fun. Informative, too. Mara, I hope we’ll meet a ton more times. And you . . .” She turns to Liam. Her voice drops lower, but I can still make out the words. “Cheer up, buddy. I don’t think you’re as doomed to a lifetime of pining as you think. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She’s not very tall and has to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, one hand pressing against his abs for balance, and if Liam minds having her up in his space, he doesn’t show it. Then there is a friendly wave, directed at me this time, a cheerful “Good night,” the sound of her heels against the parquet flooring on her way to the entrance, and then— Gone.

That noise was the front door opening and closing, which means that Liam and I are alone.

“Liam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”

“To?” He scratches the back of his neck, looking confused by my reaction. He’s still leaning against the counter, and I can’t make myself move away from the entrance. I can’t make myself continue and apologize for interrupting his date. I was going to leave. I promise. You guys could have continued in your room, Liam. I wouldn’t have minded.

Really.

“How did the presentation go?”

I look up from inspecting my shoes. “What?”

“Your presentation today? For the lead position?”

“Ah.” Right. The presentation. The one I’ve been complaining about for days. The one I practiced with him yesterday. And the day before. The one he probably knows by heart. “Um, very good. Good. Well, okay. Passable.”

“It’s getting worse by the word.”

I wince. “It was . . . I stumbled a bit.”