When Michael tapped her nose, she suddenly realized why he had been wiping his own so profusely. "Oh," she said, laughing. "Thanks. That tends to happen a lot." He had a wide smile. Using her sleeve, which was already considerably smudged with ink, she rubbed her nose until it was hopefully clean.
She stopped rubbing immediately, though, when she heard mention of a study buddy--she had spent the past week in the library with her nose in her Transfiguration textbook. She thought Michael was taking the class, and before she could stop herself, blurted, “Oh, Merlin, how are you doing in Transfiguration? I’ve been so lost in the class lately, I don’t know why I even took it. Is it hard for you too?”
As she prattled on, her eyes wandered (as they often did) down to the stack of books that Michael had helped to straighten for her. Apparently, the embarrassing book she had picked up was not behind her. It sat on the very top of his stack, and on the cover was a painting of a longhaired man caressing the cheek of a woman in period clothing, with some sort of ridiculous title like Hearts Aflame.
Evelyn sucked in a breath, feeling her face turn a lovely shade of crimson, but quickly barreled on in an attempt to distract Michael, “So, yeah, uh, study? I think that would be great, don’t you?” She clawed out to take the stack of books from him.
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