The Scars of Anatomy

24. Nap

Friday morning, I walk down the hall of the science building after my biology class. I pass the room Olivia teaches Mrs. Cooper's lab in and instinctively look inside, stopping in my tracks when I spot her.

The classroom is empty as she sits on top of the front lab bench cross-legged, consumed in the binder resting on her lap as she munches on a granola bar. She must have just got done teaching her class—even though I told her she should stay home another day to rest. But a part of me knew she wouldn't listen.

Thankfully, she followed doctor's orders yesterday and stayed home. Delilah and I made sure of it with Mission: Make Sure Olivia Doesn't Dare Step Foot On This Campus. We made a pact that if either of us saw her in any of her classes yesterday, we'd both send her ass right back home to rest.

Frowning, I walk into the classroom and she looks up at me from her binder, giving me a half smile, half grimace. She knows my stance on her coming to classes today.

"I thought you were skipping teaching today?" I say, coming to stand in front of her. I rest my hands on the counter on each side of her, bracketing her legs.

"I was going to, but the other TA said she couldn't fill in for me today. I couldn't just leave the class hanging this close to finals," she explains.

"So what I'm hearing are excuses," I say, a teasing lilt to my voice. "Did you talk to Mrs. Cooper about it?"

"No, I didn't want to bother her," she says lamely, shyly refusing to meet my gaze, because she knows it's a lame excuse that I'm not going to let her off for easily.

"Finch," I groan, exasperated.

I gently grab her chin, making her tilt her head up to look at me. I examine her face, her soft features livelier than they were the other day. The bags under her eyes have noticeably reduced and she has more color to her complexion, but I can tell she's still not one hundred percent. Looking at her, getting lost in her eyes, I almost forget what I'm mad at her for. Almost.

"You have to take care of yourself," I remind her. "I'm sure Mrs. Cooper could have scrounged up another TA to teach in your place."

"But—"

"No buts," I cut her off.

I hear a slight crinkling noise and look down to spot the granola bar in her hand. I pluck it from her grasp, finding the generic honey and oats bar only half eaten.

"What's this?" I ask, flashing her the wrapper.

"Uh, breakfast?" she says, confused.

I lean to my left and spot the trashcan on the floor at the end of the lab bench and toss the granola bar inside.

"Hey," Olivia whines, a cute little pout forming on her face.

"Come on, Finch," I say, leaning over to grab her backpack. "You need real breakfast, not that junk."

I grab the binder in her lap and pack it away inside her powder blue bag, zipping it up. Despite her protests, I pick her up off the counter, setting her on her feet, before grabbing her hand and leading her to the truck.

"Thank you, Bronx," I tease, melodramatically mimicking a high pitched female voice before stuffing my mouth with a bite of pancakes.

Olivia purses her lips together, trying her best not to laugh. She picks up a grape from her fruit bowl, throwing it at me from across the table.

I manage to catch the tiny fruit deftly, popping it into my mouth as soon as I catch it.

Olivia's jaw drops in amused astonishment. "You're unbelievable," she mutters under her breath, shaking her head.