Definitely, Maybe in Love

“I’m studying Latin,” he continued. “It helps with the law terminology. Plus, it’s a dead language.” He eyed me, kind of deadpan. “I’m trying to resurrect it.”

“Single-handedly?”

He exhaled what could have been a laugh, then took a sip from a tall, silver travel mug. “If that’s what it takes.”

While he checked something on his phone, I watched him from across the table, wondering why he was in such a talkative mood. We hadn’t exchanged this many words since the party. I also wondered where he was off to so early. I knew most post-graduate courses were taught in the afternoons to accommodate students who had jobs. Knightly did not have a job.

He wasn’t wearing a complete suit today, just dark gray pants, a white shirt with blue pinstripes, and a gray-and-black-striped tie. A dark gray jacket was draped over the back of his chair. Most professors didn’t dress up as much. To me, the formalness of his attire went hand-in-hand with the formal attitude that he wore like so many argyle sweaters.

I stirred at the contents of my turquoise over-sized porcelain mug, staring down at the brown liquid swirling around like a whirlpool.

“Some weather,” he observed.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“What class do you have this morning?”

I hated small talk. Why hadn’t I grabbed my food to go? Why was there still a friggin’ monsoon outside and why’d I leave home sans umbrella?

“Statistics,” I said, nibbling around the edges of my muffin.

“Nothing after that?”

“Why are you asking about my classes?”

“Because you’re sitting right in front of me and it’s polite.”

“Oh, you’re polite now?” I couldn’t help blurting. “Run over any pedestrians lately?”

Something in his expression seemed pleased by my outburst.

I took a breath and looked down at my plate. “I guess I don’t thrive on chitchat like some people.”

“You might be out of practice.”

I lifted my chin. “And what? You’re the grand master of communication?”

“How would you know if I am or not? We don’t know each other very well.” His eyes were wide with amusement at whatever he was thinking about saying next. “Don’t you think it’s time we remedy that? I know I’d be willing to do something about it.”

My teeth stopped moving mid-chew. His eye contact didn’t waver, causing the temperature under my collar to heat up a degree or two. In a parallel universe, I might have thought he was flirting with me. But that seemed as probable as discovering spotted owls living in Trump Tower.

I swallowed and quickly picked up my novel, letting the bookmark slide onto the table. I held the book in front of my face, staring blankly at the pages for a few moments, not liking the way my heart was beating so unsteadily. When my focus on the page finally sharpened, I realized that the words were upside down. I casually turned the book right-side-up, hoping my dining companion wouldn’t notice.

No such luck.

A weird noise was coming from the other side of the table. I lowered my shield. “What’s so funny?” I asked, surprised to see Knightly chuckling into a fist.

“Your buttons,” he said.

I looked down at the top I was wearing. It was a black pullover sweater, no buttons.

“No,” he said with another chuckle. “Your buttons, Spring.” He pointed at me, his fingers like a gun. “They’re very easy to push, aren’t they?”

“Depends on who’s pushing them, and where.” I nearly choked on the unintentional innuendo that had spewed out of my mouth. Wow. Now I was flirting back? I reached for my glass of ice water and held it up to my suddenly dry lips. When I snuck a glance at him, his mouth was frozen in a boyish grin, pleased as punch.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m embarrassing you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I don’t blush,” I stated, setting down my glass with a thud, rattling the silverware. “And is this the type of polite conversation you had in mind?”

“I’ll take what I can get.” He shook his head. “Buttons.”

“You know what?” I said, after dabbing my mouth with a napkin. “I think I liked it better when we were ignoring each other.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Ignoring?” A moment passed before he leaned back in his chair. “Okay, fine, you’re not blushing.” He tapped his chin, then his mouth slowly curved into a smile.

It was a nice smile. In fact… Huh, Henry Knightly really should smile like that more often. I was momentarily dazzled by the way his brown eyes went squinty, giving the rest of his face an almost innocent countenance. He was mesmerizing.

“So, Spring Honeycutt, are you going to tell me what classes you have today, or should I look up your schedule online?” He reached for his phone.

“Statistics,” I repeated. “Your roommate’s got a class right across from me.”

“How do you know that?”

I stared at him for a beat. “Because he’s dating my roommate.”

“Oh.” A shadow seemed to eclipse his expression for a moment as he took a drink. “That’s right. And what do you have after statistics?”

“I’ve got a four-hour block for research.” I rested my elbows on the table. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

He opened his mouth, but then paused as though rethinking a question. “If you’re a junior, is the research for your independent study thesis?”

“How did you know?”

He lifted his travel mug and took another drink. “Lucky guess. Have you picked a subject?”

The question made my stomach roll and my heart stop at the same time.

“What?” Knightly asked, probably noticing all the color drain from my face.

“Nothing,” I replied, toying with my teaspoon. “Yes, I have a subject. I started working on it over the summer, actually, but a few weeks ago, my advisor…”

“Oh,” he said. “He’s making you change it.”

“He says I need a new angle.” I paused, not knowing how to explain further to a layman, and not really having the stomach to get into the whole thing. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it is.” He pulled back a tiny smirk. “Knowing you.”

“Funny,” I said, not laughing.

Knightly pushed his plate to the side. “It might help to talk about it.”

“Just making polite conversation?”

Another of those steady smiles appeared on his face. My pupils might have actually dilated. Man, I was going to have to keep on my toes to stay immune to this guy.

“You don’t really want to hear about my project,” I said.

“What else do I have to do?” He glanced toward the window. “It’s raining.”

He was right. I had no place to go, either, and who knows, maybe talking through it out loud with someone who had no clue about the subject matter would rattle something loose. I sighed and rested the side of my head against my palm. “Okay, well, basically my main focus is on biological systems remaining diverse and productive over time. Sorry, that was too technical. What I mean is—”

“Sustainability.”

I frowned. “You know what that is?”

“I do.” When I didn’t go on, he gestured for me to continue.

“Anyway, since you know what sustainability is, you’re probably also aware that land development is