The Forbidden Throb Chapter 146

Emma's POV:

The radiator in Stone Hall's third-floor office hissed and clanked like it was trying to communicate in Morse code, but the warmth it promised never quite materialized.

I pulled my cardigan tighter around my shoulders, squinting at the laptop screen where a sophomore's video report played.

My fingers hovered over the touchpad, trembling slightly. Not from cold, though the November chill seeping through the old windows didn't help. No, this was pure frustration mixed with bone-deep disappointment.

*I was supposed to be home right now.*

"Emma?" Professor Laurent's voice pulled me back.

She sat two desks over, her reading glasses perched on her nose as she peered at her own screen. "You've been staring at that same frame for three minutes."

I blinked, realizing the video had paused on an unflattering close-up of a tomato plant. "Sorry. Just... thinking about the composition."

*Lying is getting easier,* I thought with a twinge of guilt.

The truth was messier: Professor Laurent had cornered me yesterday afternoon, all apologetic smiles and urgent requests.

The National Association of Journalism Educators had invited her to present at their Chicago conference—a huge honor, impossible to decline. But that left twenty-three multimedia capstone projects without an evaluator, and the deadline was Sunday night.

"You're my most reliable assistant," she'd said, which would have felt flattering if it hadn't come with a stack of evaluation rubrics thick enough to stop a door. "I know it's asking a lot, especially with your Paris work still fresh, but..."

But. There was always a but.

So here I sat on a Friday evening, when I should have been curled up on Daniel's couch, probably arguing over what to order for dinner while he pretended my suggestions weren't always going to win. Instead, I was surrounded by professors who'd drawn the short straw for weekend office hours, all of us huddled in the one room where the heating system still functioned.

My phone buzzed against the desk. I grabbed it too quickly, nearly knocking over my lukewarm coffee.

**Daniel:** *Finished for the day?*

I typed back: *Still at the office. Haven't even had dinner yet.*

Three dots appeared immediately, then: * Emma, take care of yourself.*

I glanced down at the granola bar wrapper from lunch, the only thing I'd eaten since breakfast.

*I'm fine! Just tired. *

**Daniel:** *What do you want to eat?*

The question was so perfectly Daniel—practical, immediate, solution-oriented. I didn't even think before answering, just let my fingers fly across the keyboard:

*Neptune Oyster's lobster roll. Legal Sea Foods clam chowder. That Boston cream pie from the place you ordered last time. Oh, and Flour Bakery's chocolate chip cookies.*

I hit send with a little smirk, imagining his reaction to my ridiculous fantasy dinner order.

Obviously I wasn't serious—that was like, what, a hundred dollars worth of food from four different restaurants scattered across Boston? On a Friday night?

My phone buzzed almost immediately.

**Daniel:** *Good.*

I blinked at the screen. Good? Good what?

Before I could figure out what he meant, another text came through.

**Daniel:** *Neptune Oyster first. Then Legal. Should have everything within the hour.*

My jaw dropped. I stared at my phone, reading the message three times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating from hunger and exhaustion.

*Wait. You're serious?*

**Daniel:** *You said you were hungry.*

*I was JOKING! Daniel, that's like four different restaurants!*

**Daniel:** *I'm aware. I have GPS.*

I could practically hear the dry amusement in his tone. My face was burning now, half mortified and half... something else. Something warm and fluttery.

I forced myself to focus on the next evaluation. The student had done a podcast about food insecurity on campus—good topic, needed work on the audio mixing. I made notes, filled out the rubric, moved on to the next one.

Two hours later, Professor Martinez packed up her things. "I'm heading out. Don't stay too late, Emma."

"Just a few more," I said, though "a few" was probably closer to eight.

She left shortly after, leaving me alone in the big office with its flickering fluorescent lights and temperamental heating. The building was quiet, just the occasional creak of old wood and the hum of my laptop.

My stomach growled. I checked the time—6:47 PM.

My phone lit up.

**Daniel:** *I'm downstairs at your dorm.*

I stared at the message, my heart doing acrobatics in my chest.

I saved my work, grabbed my coat, and practically ran for the stairs.

The November air hit me like a slap when I pushed through the main doors. I paused on the top step, scanning the small plaza in front of the building. A few students hurried past, bundled against the cold. The streetlights cast orange pools across the brick walkway.

And there, standing under the big oak tree near the edge of the plaza—far enough from the main path to be out of the way, close enough that I could see him clearly—was Daniel.

He was wearing that charcoal coat I loved, his breath visible in the cold air. In his hands were several paper bags, which should have looked ridiculous but somehow just looked... right.

A group of undergrads walked past him, and I saw at least two of them do double-takes. One whispered something to her friend, both of them glancing back over their shoulders.

*Yeah, I know,* I thought. *He's unfairly attractive. And he's mine.*

The possessive thought surprised me with its intensity. I'd never been the jealous type—even with Nicholas, I'd never really worried about other girls looking. But with Daniel, I wanted to walk over there and... and...

*And what? Stake your claim? Mark your territory?*

I shook my head at myself and started down the steps. Daniel saw me immediately, his expression softening in that way that made my knees weak.

I meant to walk over calmly. I really did. But somewhere between the bottom step and the oak tree, my pace quickened. And then I was basically jogging, and then I was there, and then—

I threw my arms around his waist and hugged him, hard.

Daniel stumbled back half a step, clearly not expecting the impact. One hand held the bags away to keep them safe, while the other came up to steady me.

"Hi," I mumbled into his coat, breathing in his scent—that cedar and mint cologne mixed with cold November air.

"Hi yourself." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Not afraid of being seen?"