Dear Ava(50)

“I’m late. It’s the first day of this sociology class my advisor wanted me to take. At least it’s a break from my normal.” My normal this semester is organic chemistry, biochemistry, a genetics class, and two labs. I’m frantic just thinking about it. My advisor warned me that this year would be insane, and boy was she right. I’ve got the MCAT to study for, plus an application for med school on the horizon. Today begins my sixth semester here, counting the summers.

She blows at her bangs, her shorter legs pumping. It makes me laugh that I can out fast-walk her when she’s constantly moving. “You’re going to Hess Hall, right? I’m headed to my curriculum class.” She’s working on a teaching degree.

I nod then Wyatt waves at us and jogs over, catching several girls’ eyes with his tattoos and his usual sardonic grin, not that he notices. He ended up coming to Vandy to be close to his mom. Jagger pops up next to him and my smile widens. “Guys!”

Hugs are given all around. We haven’t seen them much with the craziness of the new semester.

I tell them I have to dash, wishing I could talk more, but the clock is ticking.

“I’ll see you at work,” Piper calls, referring to Blue’s Bar. I’m the bartender and she’s a server. I gave up Lou’s when I came to Vandy, although I still pop in and eat with Tyler sometimes. “Later,” she says, taking the fork in the sidewalk.

“See you at work!” I look over my shoulder at them to wave bye and slam right into a hard muscular body.

Whump!

His book goes flying, right smack into a girl next to him, then lands on the ground. She yelps when the textbook hits her cheek. She drops her purse, and the contents roll over the sidewalk. Students dodge them, most of them unconcerned as they head to class. My coffee spills straight down my shirt and I wince at the hot liquid.

Geeze. Way to start the semester. “I’m so sorry, guys. I was in a hurry and wasn’t looking. My fault,” I mumble as I hurriedly brush off my crop top. My boobs will smell like hazelnut all dang day. Obviously, I don’t have time to go home. At least my skinny jeans appear unscathed. I bend down and grab my cup, feeling devastated that the coffee is gone. It was the only thing keeping me going. The book I knocked down catches my eye, hung on the corner of the sidewalk, the pages opened, the spine ominously cracked. I close my eyes. Textbook—expensive.

I let out an exasperated breath.

“No worries. It’s okay.”

Nice voice. Deep. Growly. I raise my head up and look at the person I tried to tackle.

A breath whooshes out of me.

I push my sunglasses up on my head to hold my hair back.

HOLY HOT GUY.

He’s tall, several inches over six feet, broad shoulders in a tight gold Vandy shirt, low-slung jeans that are molded to him, and black Converse. Dark mahogany hair—longer than what’s normally found on guys who catch my eye—is chin-length with soft waves, framing his face.

My heart jumps off a cliff and does a swan dive right into stormy waters. My hands get clammy, and I close my eyes and open them again quickly, wondering if he’ll disappear.

Nope. Drop-dead gorgeous is still in front of me.

“My cheek hurts,” whines the girl next to him.

Ah. I blink and check her out. Pretty, someone I could see him with. Long, shiny, light brown hair, big green eyes, and a curvy figure.

She gives me a glare and stoops back down to pick up her lipstick.

“It’s the first day. I get kinda nuts. Sorry.” I grab her wallet and push it into her hand.

“You should slow down,” she mutters.

I look back at Hot Guy. He’s staring at me.

I bite my lip.

Then get nervous.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and that hasn’t happened since…well, since high school.

The girl stands back up and asks him if he’s ready to go.

He hasn’t budged, nor does he reply to her.

I smile on the inside because he didn’t offer to help her pick up her stuff either.

“Are you okay?” he asks me.

Am I?

Oh, yeah. Totally. Completely.

On impulse, I know what I have to do. I stick my hand out. “Hi. I’m Ava, sometimes Tulip if you know me well. I apologize for the book. I hope it’s okay.”

A long moment stretches, and I’m not sure he’s going to say anything, and good grief, how stupid would I feel then—

He takes my hand slowly, almost as if he’s afraid I’m going to turn and run. “My first name is Lee.”

Lee. I savor it, testing it out in my head. It fits. Strong. Silent. Sexy as fuck.

His eyes are gray, his face chiseled and cut with lean cheekbones and a blade for a nose. There’s dark scruff on his jawline and he rubs at it. Not once does he take his gaze off mine.

Someone brushes past me, but I hardly notice.

Is the sun brighter? Are birds singing in the trees?

My legs feel weird, like I’m not really standing there. I swallow the lump in my throat.

The universe just…shifted.

“Lee.” Stupid me. I say it again.

His full, wicked lips twitch. “Yeah. And you’re Ava, AKA Tulip.”

“Hey, are you ready? We’re late,” the girl says from behind him.

“Your girlfriend is calling you,” I murmur. “Better go.”

“Not my girlfriend.”

“Is that right?” I realize I’ve taken two steps toward him. If I reached out, I could touch his well-defined chest. “She’s pretty.”

“Hmmm. I prefer blondes.” His gaze sweeps over my long hair, and dang, I admit I preen a little and toss it over my shoulder. It is glorious, long and wavy and brilliant in the sunlight. No more dark or bleached hair for me. I’m glad I wore it down today.

“She insisted on walking with me. My cousin actually.”

The girl in question rolls her eyes, says she’s ready and if he isn’t then he can find his own damn class by himself.

“Go on,” he replies without glancing at her. “I’ll manage.”

I stare at him and he stands perfectly still, as if he’s afraid to move, while I…well, I’m the idiot girl who spends a full minute—when I’m late!—taking in every single inch of him. He’s tan like he’s been outdoors a lot. His eyes are crinkled at the corners from squinting at the sun. His hands are strong-looking, his fingers long and lean.

“Do I pass inspection?” he murmurs.

“Yeah.” I pick up his book and hand it to him, our fingers brushing.

His sensuous lips part, his chest rising, and he looks as if he might say—

Someone hits my shoulder to get around me, and I apologize. Dang. We’re standing here in the middle of heavy foot traffic.

Someone calls my name, a girl from the pre-med program, and I start then send her a wave, secretly hoping she doesn’t walk over. I come back to his face watching mine as an unsure expression flashes briefly.

“See you around,” he finally murmurs before turning and walking toward the buildings at the end of the sidewalk.

I watch him until his body grows smaller and the heads of other students overtake his. With a sigh, I gaze around at the world. Wow. The sky is incredibly blue, the grass is greener, the trees lush and full of vibrant color as they sway in the late summer breeze.

I laugh.

I just met a guy.

I just met a guy.

By the time I exit the restroom, where I did my best to dab the coffee off my shirt and walk into class, the lecture hall is packed. I prefer to sit up front, especially if I need to stay awake, but I’m out of luck, and it doesn’t bother me one bit because I’m floating on air. I hitch my backpack up and find a seat in the last row at the top. At least it’s the aisle and the exit is behind me in case I need to dash out quickly for my next class.

“This professor is supposed to be awesome,” says the guy next to me.

“Oh?”

“Sociology of Men and Women.” He winks at me, and I read the gleam of interest there.

He’s cute with black glasses, a designer shirt, and super white teeth. Rich guy. Lots of money at Vandy, yet where people come from and what they have doesn’t annoy me anymore. We’re all here to learn, and I fit in just fine.

Even in my shabby Converse, pink now instead of black.

He leans over closer. “You wanna study together for this class sometime?”

I shake my head. “Um, I’m seeing someone,” I tell him, being blunt. Might as well let him know. My heart is taken.

His smile falters a bit. “Oh. Cool. Sure, yeah. Me too.”

I look up at the professor who’s walked into the room, and my eyes land on a gold shirt near the front. I sit up straighter. I have to angle my head and peer past a coed with some giant hair—

But, oh, I see him.

My first name is Lee.

My lips curve.

The professor introduces himself and breaks down the coursework, and I take notes on my laptop without looking, watching Hot Guy.

Did he see me walk in?

The professor begins talking, and before long I’m sucked in, especially when he throws out the term mating rituals. I grin, thanking my advisor in my head.









Later, I’m halfway into my shift at Blue’s when Carla, a graduate student and my manager, walks over to the bar and points at me. “Your turn to take the mic.”

“I sang one already!”

“You know the drill, missy.”

I groan, set down my bar cloth, and make my way to the small raised stage inside Blue’s Bar.