A week later, Famke entered her apartment and grimaced at the mess of the kitchen table. “Bram?”
“In here,” he called from down the hall in his bedroom.
“Why is there white stuff all over the kitchen table?”
“Because I’m stupid,” he grunted as he came back into the space tugging a shirt over his head. “Part of my midterm assignment for chemistry is to write about the reactions of certain products. I put a bit of vinegar into baking soda and instead of doing it in the sink, I did it on the table. I thought it would be a small reaction. I was wrong. It bubbled everywhere.”
“Great,” she grimaced at the sight.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s my mess. I’ll clean it. You got a parcel today. From New York.” He made wide eyes. “Do you have an admirer I don’t know about?”
“No.” She walked with tr
