"That isn't coffee, Smith," he muttered, though he dutifully paid for it with his faculty credit card. "That is a diabetic crisis in a paper cup."
Olive had expected to be expelled on the spot. Or at the very least, incinerated by his icy gray glare. "That isn't coffee, Smith," he muttered, though he
"Are you okay?" Adam asked, searching her eyes. "You've been quiet for the last hour." "Are you okay
When she stepped out of her apartment building, Adam was waiting by his car. He was wearing a tailored black suit that made him look unfairly handsome. When he saw her, he stopped mid-stride. His eyes swept over her, dark and intense, and for a long moment, he didn't breathe. When he saw her, he stopped mid-stride
Olive stretched, her spine popping in protest. She loved science. She loved the pursuit of objective truth. What she did not love was the crushing weight of academic politics, the endless hunt for funding, or the fact that her best friend, Anh, was currently trying to orchestrate her love life.
Adam reached out, his large, warm hand covering hers on the computer mouse. A jolt of pure electricity shot up Olive's arm.
Adam Carlsen was the department’s brilliant, terrifying, and notoriously ruthless young professor. He was known for making grown Ph.D. students cry during their defenses. He was a tyrant in a lab coat, a destroyer of academic dreams, and possessed the emotional warmth of liquid nitrogen.