'Alexis Ames,' he murmured under his breath. If it hadn't been my own name, I wouldn't have even understood—he said it so quietly. His thumb underlined my name on the class schedule he handed back to me. I took it, mumbled 'thank-you' and bolted.
I hurried across campus, slipped inside the classroom with a minute to spare and took the closest open seat. A syllabus was already on the desk. The instructor stood at the head of the class, carefully watching the clock above the door. He started his introductions at six o'clock sharp and rudely rebuked a couple of students who arrived late, commenting that tardiness was a sign of disrespect. As if his tone was not. Note to self: Be on time for this one .
I'd felt the burn of eyes on me when I walked in the door and took my seat. Normally I would have disregarded it. I was used to it, especially the last couple months of high school, when everyone was curious about my burn. But as I sat there, trying to listen to the professor as he monotonously listed his credentials, I could feel the eyes again, making the back of my neck tingle. It wasn't the same threatening feeling I felt at the Jefferson Memorial. This was the uncomfortable but familiar feeling of curious eyes. I glanced over my shoulder, pretending to check out the classroom. Oops. I was caught. But I couldn't tear my eyes away for several seconds.
Wow. Beautiful . That was all I could think through the haze filling my brain. I never understood how a guy could be considered beautiful until now. He was stunningly attractive like Mom was—beyond what should be allowed for any human.
His eyes held mine until I finally came to my senses and pulled away. Mr. Beautiful smiled as I slid my eyes to the front of the room. And then it hit me. Oh, no! Why me?! I had barely glanced at him the first time, but I knew without a doubt: he was the same guy I'd run into like an idiot less than five minutes ago. Apparently, he recognized me, too, and found it funny. I wished one of my quirks was the ability to disappear.
'Most of your projects will be done as teams,' the professor droned. 'You'll be with the same team throughout the semester. Your team number is in the upper-right corner of the first page of your syllabus. Your first project is due next week, so get into your groups now to make introductions and get started.'
The professor was the type high-school students fretted about when they thought of college—demanding, commanding, condescending, anal-retentive. He was nothing like my other instructors. My calculus teacher would make the subject bearable because at night he was a stand-up comedian and my women's studies instructor was the eccentric cat-woman. Not the superhero, but the crazy, old maid who lived with a bunch of cats.
Based on Mr. Anal's instructions of where teams should gather, I didn't have to move. Two girls—one a cute, girl-next-door blonde and the other a scowling, black-haired Goth—and two guys joined me in our designated section of the room.
Including Mr. Beautiful.
Of course. Just my luck.
He was the last to join us, after switching his syllabus with one on an empty desk—he wanted to be in our group. I figured he knew somebody. When he headed our way, his athletic build straining against his shirt, even Ms. Grumpy Goth straightened up and smiled slightly. But then I caught a quick, but odd reaction from the other three and I knew immediately he hadn't chosen our group because he knew anyone.
Mr. Beautiful nodded at each of us as he took a seat and the others shrunk back slightly. A look of fear, or maybe just astonishment, flickered in their eyes. A slight smile played on his lips when he looked at me last. I couldn't figure out what the others saw because I didn't notice anything. Of course, I did notice something , but nothing warranting that kind of reaction. My sense remained quiet.
Then I realized there was something—a strange nudge in the back of my mind. There was something different but unidentifiable about him. I could barely introduce myself before I zoned out through the other introductions and tried unsuccessfully to figure out what the nudge meant.
During a break halfway through class, I bought a soda and wandered outside. The hot, heavy air wasn't exactly refreshing, but it was a nice break from the closed up, conditioned air inside. The sun had officially set and the sky was still a pinkish-purple in the west, the tops of two palm trees silhouetted against it. A couple people sat on the top step, talking. I walked down the stairs and leaned against a lamppost, sipping my drink.
'Alexis, right?' a silky, sexy voice asked behind me, making me jump and slosh soda over my hand. I turned to see Mr. Beautiful. Of course he would sound lovely. I already knew he smelled good, too. Yep . He strode over to me and I could really take in the scents. Sweet mangos and papayas, citrusy lime, sage…and, of course, that hint of man . I could tell it was natural—it didn't have the chemical undertone like cologne or soaps did. It was a fresh fragrance, making me think of sitting in the sun on a warm day.
'Uh, yeah.' The lamp over us cast its light directly on his spellbinding face. He took my breath away and made my mind foggy.
It wasn't right for a guy to be so incredibly attractive. Besides how tall he stood—towering at least a foot over my five-two—I noticed his hazel eyes first. They pulled me into their staggering beauty, with a wide ring of emerald green on the outside of the irises and brown around the pupils with gold specks that seemed to… sparkle . They were fringed with such long, dark lashes that it was unfair they were on a guy. His facial features were flawless—a square jaw, full lips and a golden suntan—better than any movie star or model. Sandy brown hair, longer on top and streaked by the sun, topped off his perfection. And then he smiled magnificently and the gold flecks in his eyes sparkled brighter, like when the sun hits gold flakes in a mining pan. My brain slid out the exit door and my insides melted. Get a grip!
I tried to remember his name. He had to have introduced himself to the team. I must have been really focused on that mind nudge, because I drew a blank.
'I'm Tristan…in case you didn't catch it.'
I nodded as if I knew. 'Yeah, nice to meet you, Tristan. Sorry about running into you.'
'I'm not,' he murmured so quietly, I probably wasn't supposed to have heard.
We both stood there awkwardly…well, I felt awkward, anyway. I expected him to leave, but, strangely, he didn't.
'So…how was your first day of classes?' he finally asked.
I looked up at him in surprise. Why are you talking to me? No one talks to me.
'Uh, fine, I guess. You?'
'This is my only class today and, so far, it's perfect.' He chuckled, as if there were some underlying meaning to his answer.
'Lucky. This is my third.'
'Busy day.' Another moment of awkward silence passed before he continued, probably thinking it rude to walk off now. 'This is my only class this semester, actually. Too much other stuff going on to take a full load right now.'
I told him I could relate and, for some reason, babbled through my entire schedule, my hand flitting anxiously between twirling the tab of my soda can and tugging at my hair.
'Women's studies, huh?' He lifted an eyebrow, a gleam in his eyes. 'Maybe I should look into that one. Sounds…interesting.'
I laughed. It sounded unusually high, anxious. 'It's almost all girls…but I'm sure they wouldn't kick you out.'
Did I really just say that aloud? I blushed. He laughed, the pleasurable sound making my heart flip.
I struggled to concentrate through the rest of class, replaying the five-minute conversation with Tristan and silently chastising myself for acting like an airhead.
'Which dorm are you in?' the blond girl-next-door asked me after class. I thought someone called her Carlie.
'Oh, I live off campus, with my…' Oops, almost said Mom. I was out of practice. '…with my sister.'
'Oh, too bad.' She sounded genuinely disappointed. 'I thought we could walk back together, maybe hang out. I'll see you Wednesday afternoon for our team meeting.'
'Yeah, see you then.' I thought maybe college was different than high school. People were actually friendly.
As soon as she left, prickles of fear trailed down my spine. I realized I'd have to walk to my car alone, in the dark, and that scared the crap out of me. It felt like the opportune time and place for another attack. My attackers probably didn't even know where I lived now, but I had no guarantees. They found me once. I was sure they could find me again.
