Best Friends Don't Kiss(4)

She’s so funny, I almost stop to laugh, but thankfully for the other occupants of this building, the growing, flickering flames somehow manage to win out as priority.

“Water!” I yell behind me to the pacing rambler as I jump toward the socket which the offending appliance is plugged into and yank it from the wall.

I hold out a hand, expecting a cup or bucket or something, but when nothing comes, I yell out my demand again. “Water! I need water!”

“Water!” she exclaims. “Oh yes, I have bottled water!”

“Get it!” I snap impatiently. In any other circumstance, I’d try harder not to be rude, but we’re about fifteen seconds from setting this whole room on fire.

After pulling several bottles from a mini fridge beside her bed, she hands them off to me one-by-one, undoing the caps frantically so I don’t have to pause to do it, and I pour them on top of the flames.

It takes seven fucking bottles before the fire is officially out, and for the first time since she rammed into me in the hallway, I take a full breath.

“Well, fuck,” I say on a heavy sigh, and she snorts a completely unexpected and yet, somehow endearing, giggle.

“I cannot believe I almost burned down my dorm room at Columbia University on the very first night.”

“Yeah,” I reply, and I have to bite back my smile. “Not exactly the first impression they suggested we make at orientation.” I move closer to the charred mess sitting on her desk and open up a window to let out the residual smoke.

She groans and slaps a palm to her forehead. “I’m an idiot.”

“Hey, accidents happen sometimes,” I reassure her. “Do it again, and then you’ll be an idiot.”

She laughs, thankfully, as I intended. And now that the urgency of the emergency is over, I take the opportunity to survey her room beyond the soggy remnants of her contraband.

“I think you have a casualty,” I comment and nod toward the little green-brown plant sitting beside the out-of-commission hot plate.

“No.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Teddy 3 was already like that before I got here.”

I turn to meet her eyes. “Teddy 3?”

“My plant,” she explains. “Well, my almost-dead plant.”

I don’t know why it strikes me as cute that she names her plants, but it does.

“You brought a dead plant to college?”

She shrugs one petite shoulder. “Almost dead. I’m trying to stop the streak.”

I quirk an eyebrow.

“The ‘I can only seem to kill plants’ streak.”

“So, his name is Teddy 3 because—”

She shrugs again, nodding to confirm my assumption. “Teddy and Teddy 2 are dead. Like, as a doornail. All shriveled and broken. Not even the main stems survived.”

“I see.” A smirk consumes my mouth. “Do you have another bottle of water in your fridge for him, then? I’d be happy to extend the scope of my services a little bit.”

She smiles, and when the skin at the corners of her blue eyes crinkles, a tingle shoots back into my dick—previously put into a medically induced coma by the unexpected flames.

“That’s okay,” she says, pursing her full, pink lips. “I’ll take care of Teddy 3 later…when I’ve calmed down a little bit. I’ll almost definitely remember.”

I smile. I don’t know how I can be so sure, but I’d go to Vegas and put down money that Teddy 3 doesn’t see any sort of hydration later tonight.

“Thank you, by the way,” she says bashfully. “For helping me. And sorry again for the collision in the hallway.”

“You’re welcome.” I run a hand through my hair. “I am curious, though…” I pause briefly, and she takes that as an indication that I’m looking for permission. The truth is, I don’t know what I’m waiting for. For some reason, I just feel an instinctual need to make sure she doesn’t think I’m trying to insult or disparage her.

“Shoot.”

“Where exactly were you headed?”

“Ohh,” she says, rolling her lips into her mouth. “You mean because the fire was in here?”

I nod, laughing as I do.

She lifts her shoulders helplessly. “I panicked.” The pillowy texture of her bright pink comforter fluffs as she plops down onto her bed. “And, apparently, when my fight-or-flight instincts kick in, I just run for the freaking hills.”

The corners of my mouth kick up into a smile I don’t plan. “Well…” I laugh. “I guess that’s how some people are wired. It’s not a bad thing. As long as you’re not majoring in law enforcement or medicine or something.”

She grins up at me. “Art major, actually.”

“Well, thank God for that.” I smirk and glance around her dorm room, taking in several painted canvases above her bed and resting along the wall beside a bookshelf. I don’t know a lot about art, but I know these are good. Fascinating creations with every color of the rainbow. Some abstract. Some looking more like actual photos than paintings themselves. And a few showing a viewpoint that reminds me of famous images I saw when I took an art class in high school and the teacher waxed poetic about Monet. “Did you paint these?”

She licks her lips, nodding just slightly before averting her eyes to her feet.