“Which graduate program were you in? Or were you a Ph.D. candidate?” Sofria looked a bit chagrined. “Undergrad.” Holy shit. Ren was ogling a teenager. Well, not literally, but close enough. Ren cleared his throat and backed towards the door. “Well, the CIA must have grabbed you up as you walked off the stage with your diploma.” “They actually grabbed me up after my sophomore year.” Holy double shit. She was an actual teenager. Trying to avoid making a Ren-shaped hole in the drywall, he nodded like a bobblehead. She didn’t seem to pick up on his discomfort.
