Coach Jackson gives me a pat on the back on the way to the locker room. “Great work out there, Leon.” He likes a little blood in the water, so his comment doesn’t surprise me. “You sure you don’t want me reaching out to college coaches? It’s late for Division One schools, but there are some great D2’s that would piss themselves to sign you.”
“Thanks coach, but my plans are Stanford or Berkeley.”
“Hell,” he says, rubbing his bald head. “They’d take you walk-on, sure as shit. Let me see what I can do.”
“I really want to focus on academics,” I say, toweling off my hair. “But thanks.”
I slip through the locker room door before he can press his argument and head for the shower to get ready for my night class.
And Caiden.
On my way to Sierra State, I pull into the McDonald’s next to campus and take in my duffel. I order a Coke and a chicken caesar salad, and when I’m done eating, I take my duffel to the bathroom. I tug off my jeans and sweater and slip on a short black cotton skirt and snug white long-sleeved top. I’d never wear this at school—mostly because I’m invisible there and like it that way—but Caiden kissed me. We were so close to doing more. I pull my sweater on over my shirt, reapply my mascara, brush my teeth, then head to the car.
I tough it out for as long as I can, but knowing Caiden is just two buildings over, in the library, is enough to drive me to distraction. Professor Duncan’s an okay guy, so I feel guilty about cutting out of his class early, but as I stare at my blank notebook, I know there’s no point being here anyway. Before I reach the doors of the library, I unhook my bra and pull it out through my sleeve, then tug off my sweater and shove them both in my messenger bag. I take a deep breath for nerves, then climb the stairs to the fifth floor resource center.
Caiden is at the desk, and a blond girl is leaning on the counter, pushing her cleavage all up in his face. When I see him smile at her, flirting back, jealousy chokes up my throat. I swallow it along with the acid rising and berate myself. Jealousy is not my thing. And besides, he’s not mine.
Yet.
I watch from the corner of my eye as he notices me and watches as I cross to the back of the reference section. I drop my bag on the table and pull out Don Juan, then sit and cross my legs slowly.
With all my swimming, I’ve got great legs. They’d always been my best asset, until the rest of my body finally caught up this summer. I run a hand over my thigh, lifting the hem of my skirt just a little higher, as I open my book.
“Hey,” Caiden’s smooth timbre comes from just behind me.
I look up and catch his eyes on my legs before they lift to my face. The blonde at the desk is gone. “Hey.”
He gives a quick glance around the library, then slides into the seat next to me. “I wanted to apologize for what happened on Friday.” His eyes drop to the tabletop, where his finger is tracing nervous circles. “It won’t happen again, but if you feel the need to report me to Dr. Duncan or the university, I’d totally understand.”
A laugh escapes on a breath before I can contain it. “For what? I kissed you.”
He tips his head and his eyes pour heat into mine. “I was a very willing participant, Blaire,” he says, low. Secret.
His tone and the hungry look in his eyes cause my insides to ache.
There’s a long minute that we just sit here staring at each other, the charge in the air between us building to critical mass and prickling goose bumps all over my body. The storm in his eyes intensifies, darkening the steely blue to nearly black and tightening my groin. He watches as I stand and move toward the stacks behind our table. I turn the corner and lean against the shelves in the first row, out of his line of sight—and anyone else’s for that matter. I wait for a century, it feels like, breathing my erratic heartbeat back into rhythm. When he doesn’t follow, disappointment pools inside me. I was sure I saw something in his gaze.
I’m just deciding my seduction tactic failed when he turns the corner of the shelves and stares at me from the end. “What are we playing here, Blaire? Hide and seek?”
I spin and pretend to be looking over the books on the shelf in front of me, suddenly feeling like a stupid little girl. “I’m using the reference section of the library. Not sure what you’re doing.”
I don’t look as he moves behind me, but I feel him there in the crackle of the air and the way it makes all the hairs on my arms stand on end.
“Hmm…” He stands close and looks over my shoulder. “What other classes are you taking this semester?” he asks, running a finger along the spines. “Because I’ve seen Dr. Duncan’s syllabus and I know for certain he didn’t assign anything on Aristotle or Socrates.”