"Then we'll call the whole thing settled."
When I didn't react, his brow knotted. "Talk."
I laughed.
Apologize? Davina Henson probably loved having a cautionary tale like me around.
The camera's red light pulsed. I glanced at the time—and something clicked. I spoke up.
"Instructor Henson is nothing if not dedicated—even this late, I'm sure she wouldn't mind making a personal house call in her black stockings."
"But I'm a little tired tonight. Tell her to get some rest. Wouldn't want her boyfriend to worry."
Oliver caught the implication. One brow ticked upward.
"I know you don't like hearing it, but you're the one with the filthy mind. Of course everything looks dirty to you."
I looked at the seriousness on his face, and for a second my mind stalled.
Davina showing up late at night to lecture me.
It had happened far more than three times.
At first, she knew she had Oliver wrapped around her finger and didn't bother hiding it.
I never argued with her, so she'd use the late hour as her excuse and simply stay the night.
Later she started staying past midnight, standing over me as I knelt for some supposed breach of etiquette.