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He stopped and said in a low voice: "You're too soft. If Lucas gives you trouble and you can't handle it, call me."
The wind blew and my eyes stung. I squeaked, "Thanks, Ethan."
He hesitated, then surprised me: "I'll walk you to your dorm."
Halfway there he asked, "Are your hands cold? Want me to warm them?"
I started to refuse, then he took my hand and tucked it into his jacket pocket without asking.
Anyone who's had chilblains knows—once they scar, the skin gets weird. You don't want sudden heat changes.
That spot gets itchy and painful.
It's best to avoid sudden extremes.
At the dorm he let go. "I've got to finish paperwork for studying abroad. Call me if you need anything."
I toyed with the idea of walking him to the gate. "Do you mind if I see you off?"
He laughed and said, "Are you trying to flatter me, Claire?"
Yes.
I was flattering him.
I wanted him to feel like someone was looking after him.
He waved and left, light-footed.
The next day Nathaniel arranged an assistant position for me in the company's R&D department.
Their lab had top equipment, but access required Nathaniel's approval.
I was low on the totem pole, so one day while carrying hundreds of printed pages I collided with Nathaniel in his office.
The sheets fluttered everywhere—enough to make him pause and look down on me.
He smiled a little, amused. I told him I wanted to work in the frontline of research.
He asked me why I printed so many pages; I explained, full of earnestness that I wanted to be like him—strong, competent, someone worth sponsoring.
Eventually I was allowed into the front end of the R&D team.
