I stuffed my books in my bag and retrieved my keys. I gripped them with their points jutting between my fingers to use as a weapon, clutched the bag's strap in my other hand and took a deep breath.
'I'll walk you out to the parking lot,' Tristan offered, slinging his own bag over his shoulder. 'You shouldn't be alone on campus at night.'
I exhaled with relief. 'That'd be great.'
Though I'd just met him, I felt safe with Tristan. Not that I wanted him or anyone else involved, but I hoped those strangers wouldn't try to attack with other people around—real people, not boys with little pocket knives.
As we walked in silence, I wondered what was wrong with him. There had to be something because he paid attention to me. Of course, I was usually the one avoiding everyone else, only because I knew there would be a negative reaction at some point. But Tristan …I didn't want to avoid him. Something inside me seemed to click with him already.
I knew I was making a mistake, setting myself up for disappointment…or worse. Guys who even had a fraction of his looks could pick any girl, throw her a bone and she'd do anything for him—like his homework. That was the only reason they talked to freaks like me…unless they thought we were an easy score. I didn't want to think that way about Tristan, though. It wasn't fair. But if either were true, he'd be the one disappointed. For now, I'd give him the benefit of the doubt and pretend like it was perfectly normal for him to be talking to me. Again.
'So you live close by?' he asked.
'Yeah. Cape Heron, with my sister, Sophia. She bought a bookstore.' Why am I telling him all this?
'The Book Nook? The one on Fifth?'
'Yeah, you know it?'
'I live in the Cape, too. I noticed it was re-opening soon.'
'In a month or so. It's been closed for over a year, so it's needed a lot of work.'
'Let me know if she needs any help. I'm good with my hands.' He waved his hands in emphasis.
I tried not to think about what his hands may be good at. It made me giddy.
I was glad she'd already hired someone. Mr. Beautiful around Mom? They might meet at some point, considering we had several team projects over the semester and he lived near the bookstore. I thought I would kill her if she didn't make it clear that she's not interested. Although he couldn't possibly be interested in me, I didn't think I could stand for him to date her… to be my mother's boyfriend. Ugh!
'I'm taking a gamble here, but I'd say that's your ride?'
Besides a motorcycle, my 15-year-old, white VW convertible was the only vehicle in the parking lot. The other classes must have let out early for the first night. He walked me to my car.
'Guess I'll see you Wednesday?' he asked as I opened the door and dropped my bag on the back seat.
'Yeah, I guess so.'
'Be careful.' He paused, then added, 'Driving home, I mean.'
'Um, you, too.' I eyed the shiny motorcycle. I didn't know what kind it was, but it definitely wasn't a Harley- Davidson, the only kind I really knew. It looked more like a racing bike, the kind seen screaming down the highway at ninety miles an hour, the rider hunched over the handlebars, dangerously weaving around traffic. He had a risky side. Maybe that's what the mind-nudge detected.
'You don't like bikes?'
'I like Harleys.' I hoped that didn't offend him, if it was a Chevy-versus-Ford kind of thing.
He chuckled. 'My other one is a Harley.'
My eyes widened. 'Your other one?'
'I like toys.' He shrugged with a grin. 'See you Wednesday.'
I sat in my car and watched him walk away in my rearview mirror. About halfway across the parking lot, his whole body seemed to shift, to relax. I hadn't even noticed he was tense—he'd seemed so cool and casual. I wondered what made him anxious. Surely someone like him couldn't be nervous talking to someone like me. As he fired up the bike, he glanced over at my car and I started my own engine so he wouldn't think something was wrong. Don't mind me. Just ogling.
Wednesday morning I rushed again, this time to my women's studies class. It was the last place I wanted to be, so I took my time getting to campus and now I was running late. Why did I take this stupid class anyway? Tuesday had been a productive day for writing. Going to this silly class now seemed like a waste of a valuable hour. It would be a long day on campus, too, with the team meeting in the afternoon.
I walked into class right at 9:30, but it hadn't started yet. A low thrum of chatter among the students filled the room. Not all were female; there were three guys. No…four today . My mouth nearly dropped open. Tristan sat at the back of the class, talking to a couple of girls. He put his arm across the desk next to him and shook his head, saving the seat for someone. I wondered who the lucky girl was as I headed to an open desk.
I retrieved my books from my bag when he caught my eye and grinned. He nodded at the desk next to him and winked. I stared at him, a dense fog filling my brain. When I shook my head to clear it, he pushed his bottom lip out and gave me sad eyes. A small giggle burst through my lips. Before my brain registered that I moved, I was already back there.
' What are you doing here?' I whispered.
'I told you, it sounded interesting, so I picked up the class. Maybe I'll learn something.' The smile he flashed caused my heart to flip. He was good at making my heart do gymnastics.
'I'm sure it's not what you're thinking.'
'Do you really think I enrolled in a class without knowing what it was? Give me a little credit, please,' he teased, holding up a syllabus.
'Sorry. It just doesn't seem like the type of thing you'd be interested in. I feel like it's a waste of time and I'm a woman.'
'Hmm…maybe I can make it interesting for you.'
I lifted my eyebrows. What does that mean? He smiled and nodded at the front of the room. The instructor started class. I tried to focus on her, but my eyes wanted to pull to my right. Sitting next to Tristan in class was like driving down a highway parallel to a breathtaking landscape—I knew I should keep my eyes straight forward, but they kept drifting to the side to enjoy the view.
I peered at him a couple times out of the corner of my eye, not able to help myself. I thought I saw pain or anger in his eyes and I wondered what he was thinking. The next time I peeked, it was gone. He peered back at me, the gold flecks sparkling. He pushed his notebook to the side of his desk, toward me, with a note written in the margin.
How many cats do you think she has?
I suppressed a giggle. I'd wondered the same thing about the teacher on the first day of class. I wrote on my own notebook: 12?
He flipped over to a blank sheet and his pen dashed across the page. I started to think he was just taking notes when he pushed the notebook toward me again. He'd drawn a cartoon picture of the teacher with twelve cats surrounding her. I had to cover my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing aloud. We exchanged written jokes about her and the cats, adding things to the cartoon drawing, throughout the remainder of class.
'What are you up to between now and that team meeting we have later?' he asked after class.
I wrinkled my nose. 'I have calculus in ten minutes. Then I'll probably torture myself some more and try to get homework done before our meeting.'
'Not a math geek, huh?'
'Not even close.' It was the only freshman core class I hadn't tested out of. But that was more than he needed to know.
'Well, you have fun with that. See you later. And thanks for making class interesting.'
I cocked an eyebrow. I should have been thanking him. I had practically fallen out of my seat with silent giggles.
'Seriously. It's no fun writing notes to myself. I don't play along nearly as well as you do.' He grinned. Then he did it again: he winked at me. My insides softened as I gawked at him. I'm such a fool .
'I'll see you later,' I finally muttered when my head cleared. I made a beeline for the door before I made a
