as our fingers touched. I flinched and looked up at him. He smiled. He felt it, too, it seemed, but hadn't pulled back. It was, admittedly, a pleasurable sensation. It was the first time we'd ever touched—except when I collided with him that first night. When there had also been a shock. Weird … I took the other two cups and walked out without a word.
My stomach tightened as we crossed the street—Mr. Beautiful and my goddess-like mother were about to meet. The cowbell on the front door jangled when we walked in and Mom came from the back room, her arms loaded with glossy hardcover books. She looked up at me, then behind me at Tristan. She stopped dead and the books crashed to the floor. Her mouth fell open, as did mine. Mom never dropped things—she had excellent reflexes. She just stood there stiffly, still staring at him. Please, please don't let them….
'Um, Sophia?' I said, puzzled by her reaction. It wasn't exactly what I expected.
She continued glaring at Tristan and I realized I should make introductions, but my voice trailed off in the middle of them. Mom paid absolutely no attention to me and I suddenly felt like the outsider. Her eyes narrowed tightly at Tristan as she lifted her chin. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tristan just barely nod. Mom, almost imperceptibly, tilted her head in response. And then, to my complete embarrassment, she turned on her heel and marched to the back room. She said something harsh to Owen and he rushed out. He stiffened when he saw Tristan, nodded and then hurriedly picked up the books.
'Sorry about that,' I said.
'Sure, no problem,' Tristan said, watching the doorway to the backroom, as if expecting her to come back out…or wanting to follow her.
I moaned internally.
'Thanks for the coffee.' I made my voice light so it wouldn't betray my feelings of defeat and disappointment.
He pulled his eyes away from the back room and turned to me.
'My pleasure. I'll see you later.' He leaned closer and whispered, 'Bye, sexy Lexi.'
Stunned, I looked up at him. He flashed a smile, then strode out of the store, leaving me in a daze. Could he possibly…? Not him and Mom? Maybe…just maybe? My heart sped with hope.
But then I remembered Mom. I trudged to the back room where she paced around a stack of boxes.
'What was that all about?' I demanded.
'What?' False innocence filled her tone.
'Um, your warm welcome to Tristan?'
'Oh, that. Sorry.' She waved it off.
'Mom,' I whispered through clenched teeth, hoping Owen didn't overhear us. 'You were really rude. That was so embarrassing. I kind of like this guy.'
Mom's eyes grew wide. 'You like him? How do you even know him?'
She sounded angry, startling me into forgetting that I was the one upset.
'He's in two of my classes and on my communications team.'
Her eyes flashed. 'I can't believe you haven't told me about him!'
I moaned with guilt, avoiding her glare by looking at the floor as I pulled at my hair. I tried to avoid the full truth. 'Well, it's not like there's anything to it….'
'That could change. So what's the rest?' She knew me too well.
I continued to stare at the floor, yanking and twisting my hair. 'Well, I knew you'd want to meet him and I was afraid…you and Tristan…well, you know….'
My insides squirmed uncomfortably. Mom surprised me with a loud, 'Ha!' My head snapped up to see her smug expression.
'That, my dear, is one thing you don't need to worry about,' she said. 'I have absolutely no interest in him and I strongly wish you wouldn't, either.'
' What? '
'He's trouble, Alexis. Trust me.'
'Mom!' My voice was too loud, forgetting about Owen. I quickly lowered it. 'That's not fair! You don't even know him.'
She was silent for a moment. She had to know I had a good point. Then she said through clenched teeth, 'I don't need to. I can tell he's not good for you.'
'Well, I think he is and I'm an adult. I'll make my own decisions.'
Her eyes widened with shock. Her mouth pressed into an angry line. I couldn't remember the last time I'd back-talked her. She stormed away, back to the front of the store.
I dragged myself after her and drank my coffee in silence, the heavy tension nearly suffocating me. Customers began arriving, diffusing the hostility until it eventually disappeared. By the end of the day, I tried to blame Mom's reaction to Tristan on nerves for the Grand Opening…but I knew that wasn't quite true. Mom didn't stress out, which made her overreaction even more unexplainable.
I used to think Mondays were nothing but a rude awakening from the lovely dream of the weekend. Now I looked forward to them. Tristan and I spent little time together on Fridays and I didn't see him at all on the weekends, except the one time at the coffee shop. So, when Monday finally came around, I was ridiculously giddy as I entered our women's studies class. Except for the fifty minutes of calculus, we spent from nine-thirty in the morning to ten at night together. Of course, we were in class and team meetings the majority of the time, but sometimes it was just us. I felt a tiny stab of guilt, feeling like I was again sneaking behind Mom's back, but it was a teeny-tiny stab. After all, she had no basis…and it was just studying.
One Monday in mid-October, we sat outside on the quad's lawn. The air was still warm, but we didn't drown from the humidity. I kicked off my flip-flops and sat on the grass, absorbing the sunshine. I closed my eyes and tilted my face to the sun for a few minutes, but I felt Tristan watching me, making me self-conscious. I surrendered and reluctantly pulled my books out of my bag.
Tristan had a notebook on his lap and pencil in hand, so I knew he was already working on something. I left my calculus for later, not wanting to bother him, and pulled out the communications text instead. I still had three chapters to read before I could even start on the paper he was probably already writing. He was always several steps ahead of me in our assignments, but, for some reason, still had me review his nearly perfect essays.
I stole a glance at him one more time before delving into the text. He caught my eye, grinned and winked, bringing that fog into my brain. Why does he do that to me? Apparently pleased with himself, he bent over and his pencil flew across the page.
'Hey, Tristan,' an unfamiliar female voice called from behind me a little later.
He glanced over my head and immediately stiffened.
'Hey,' he muttered.
'We're going to the Phi Kaps' house for a pool party. Wanna come?' a different female asked as they came closer.
He shot them a strange look, almost like he was angry.
'On a Monday?' he asked, his voice full of skepticism. I could hear something else underneath—a steely hardness.
'It's the Phi Kaps. Any day is good enough for them,' the first girl said. 'So, you coming?'
The girls stood by his side now, towering over him as he remained seated. If he looked up, he'd have an eyeful of long legs in short shorts and big boobs in tight tops, but, for some unfathomable reason, he looked at me instead. They were exactly who I'd picture Mr. Beautiful with—a much better match than me, no doubt. Apparently, they felt the same. They didn't give me so much as a glance.
I wondered if Tristan was the college party type. There was definitely something edgy about him. And what warm-blooded male would pass up a pool party with college girls—especially these girls?
'No, thanks,' he replied, holding my eyes, the steely undertone still there.
I blinked in surprise and, through my peripheral vision, saw both girls' mouths fall open. They obviously weren't used to rejection. They glanced down at the notebook in his lap, shot their eyes at me and then back at him.
'What ever ,' they both huffed and stomped off.
Tristan relaxed as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I didn't understand his rejection. It occurred
