Page 23 of Self Studies
“I didn’t laugh last night,” he said.
I bobbed my head.
An awkward silence stretched between us.
“I’m your student liaison for the next few days,” he eventually explained. He sat next to me and handed me a chocolate chip cookie wrapped in plastic. I blinked a few times before taking the cookie. “My name’s Saffron Gibson. My friends call me Saff.”
“Saffron Gibson,” I repeated his name, remembering my roommates' warning.
Of course she’d been referring to a person. But that probably wasn’t the right thing to kick off a conversation with. I tore the plastic off the cookie and tried to eat it at a reasonable speed. Based on the deepening of Saffron’s frown, I’d failed. I searched my mind for something to make all of this less awkward.
“Like the Gibson Alchemy supply chain?”
My stomach did a little flop as his intense gaze found mine once more. Gibson’s Alchemy was a sizeable high-end retailer that only sold the most quality ingredients. Damon used them exclusively.
“Yes,” Saffron said. His eyes narrowed. “You’re probably wondering how I ended up at the Institute.”
I looked away from him, and butterflies danced in my stomach. “I’m not.” It was a lie. I was. But I was also now acutely aware he was probably involved with my bitchy roommate. I took a deep disappointed breath and changed the topic. “So you’re my student liaison?”
Saffron pursed his lips as if he wanted to say more but let out a breath. “Yes, and you’re headed to your psych evaluation. Your placement test is tomorrow, and then you’ll get your new schedule.”
I nodded. “Ah-okay. It was a paperwork issue then?”
“What else would it be?”
I didn’t answer him. I’d been so suspicious of Advisor Crowe. He still made me uncomfortable, but it brightened my world to know he’d not set me up to fail. I couldn’t get a new advisor. Apparently, shifting students around was a red flag that something wasn’t functioning correctly. Although the MA funded the Institute, they mostly turned a blind eye to its workings. A situation Director Fleming wanted to keep in place.
“What’s a psych evaluation?” I asked.
Saffron’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “Are you joking?”
I wasn’t.
Saffron’s gaze bore into me, and I shifted uncomfortably on the chair. The plastic from the cookie crinkled in my palm. My gaze drifted to his yellow tie, where the game logo had been last night. Maybe he liked the game enough to remember some of the cards.
“Most jokes state the bitter truth,” I quoted, smiling at my memory of a cartoony picture of a jester from the game.
Saffron narrowed his eyes suspiciously; not a drop of recognition filled his face.
I wrinkled my nose and pulled up my hood. Maybe there was something in the library about making friends or flirting, or how to be normal.
At Saffron’s gesture, I stood and followed the mage’s sculpted backside. He guided us down another set of halls into a bland but symmetrical room. A few plants, balanced on little stands designed for them, gave the space some texture. Cream and wood furniture sat on a brown throw rug in the center.
Dressed in slacks and a button-down, a man stood from his desk. Rimless green eyes looked out of a sun-weathered, slightly wrinkled face. He gestured to a chaise lounge and took a seat across from it, already reaching for a laptop.
“You may go, Saff.” The man pointed at his door without looking at it. “It will be an hour at the least.”
Saffron took a step toward me, and my heart beat faster in my chest. Abruptly he stepped back and frowned. “I’ll be right outside the door.” He’d barely finished speaking before turning. The door shut with a harder than necessary thud.
I blinked at the door before facing the new man, who I assumed was the psychiatrist. He gave me an encouraging nod, and I lightly perched on the edge of the lounge.
“I’m quite excited to interview you.” The psychiatrist’s brown goatee accented his words. His hands moved constantly. I had a feeling if he sat on them, he would lose his ability to speak. “I will apologize now. I do not intend to make light of your situation or pry into details you aren’t comfortable sharing yet. But, from what I’ve been told, your situation is unique. If you allow me to, I would like to write a paper on it. Of course, I should have waited to ask that until much later in our working relationship.”
The talkative man paused to breathe, and I smiled awkwardly. “Publish or perish, right?” I quoted the alchemy game again, Saffron still on my mind.
I hugged myself, not understanding why I kept thinking about him. Of all the people I’d met, he’d not been overly nice or mean enough to stick out. Sapphire-Eyes sprang to my memory and my face heated. I’d been hoping I’d run into him again, but today had been the opposite of lucky.
“I don’t know if that’s how it works in the real world,” I said, focusing on the conversation at hand. “But that’s what one of the board games I used to play with my master taught me.”