By Tess Dacre
Copyright 2009 - 2012 Tess Dacre
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He was late. He hated being late. It was maths, and he hated maths. The engineering subjects he loved, particularly the practicals. He’d been good at maths at school, but this esoteric stuff on fluid flows he just couldn’t get the hang of at all. He hurried down the corridor, knocked on the door and slipped in muttering an apology. He looked blindly around and at first couldn’t see a seat. Then he spotted one near the back, and his breath caught in his throat. He was sure the person occupying the other seat at the table was an angel. Translucent skin with a dusting of freckles over the sculpted nose. Full lips. Delicately delineated eyebrows over piercing green eyes. And a cascade of wavy chestnut hair.
She was bored. She loved maths. But this lecture was going over old ground. Then there was a tentative knock on the door, and one of her most hated species came into the room. To be fair, he did seem embarrassed that he was late and muttered an apology. His face flamed as he searched blindly for a seat. To her surprise she felt a twinge of sympathy, knowing how difficult it is to see things when under pressure. She saw he had spotted the empty seat, and his eyes widened with a reaction that she had come to hate. As he headed to the seat beside her, she cursed the absence of her maths buddy.