Stupid Girl(11)
I stood in the middle of the dorm room and took a deep breath in as the storm of Tessa dissipated like a funnel into the sky. Tessa and I might have very different backgrounds and couldn’t possibly be more opposite. Where I was a star geek and old for my age, she was a little immature. No, a lot, actually, as if she’d never left high school. Yet, we somehow clicked. She was nice. And, just as I’d noticed her differences, I’m pretty sure she’d noticed mine, too, and hadn’t judged. I appreciated that about her.
After a few minutes of looking around the room and through some of the stuff I hadn’t unpacked yet, I decided to put together the three-tiered bookshelf Jilly had bought for me as a going-away present. Within a few minutes I had all of the disassembled pieces out of its box, each part and the matching hardware displayed on my freshly made bed. After a brief glance at the instructions, I dug my wrench and screwdriver out of the small toolbox Kyle had given me, and set to work. Jilly had made sure the desktop shelving was made of solid oak and not that cheap shitty particle board crap. Just the thought of my grandpa and his old cowboy foul mouth made me laugh out loud. I already missed him. Crazy old man.
Within a half hour I had the oak shelves assembled and atop my desk. Quickly I arranged all of my astronomy books, and stepped back to inspect my work. Deciding to hang my own inspirational poster, I knelt on the floor and fished in the toolbox for my tacks, found them tucked into a small corner, then grabbed the rolled poster I’d taken off my wall from home. Toeing off my boots, I climbed onto my bed and stood, then slid the rubber band off the paper. I’d tacked up two corners when a knock at the door startled me.
My mind scrambled as I stepped off the bed and made my way to the door. I knew absolutely no one at Winston. Except for my roommate, and she wouldn’t be knocking. Maybe it was the dorm monitor for Oliver Hall. Tessa mentioned earlier she might be stopping by to introduce herself. Or, it could be someone looking for Tessa. Pulling the door open, I blinked in shocked surprise. I felt my gaze widen. Not the dorm monitor.
Brax Jenkins’s peculiar eyes stared down at me from the doorway. His forearm rested against the jamb in a cocky stance. His pitch-dark hair fell in soft messy curls that had no pattern or symmetry and brushed his collar. A phantom smile tugged at his lips. What in the world was he doing here? I wanted to ask him just that, but I didn’t. Didn’t need to.
“Seems I can’t get that kiss out of my head, Gracie.”
Instead, I shook the surprise from my head and shrugged, trying to hide my embarrassment. “What do you want, Brax?”
Brax’s lips spread. “Is that something you really want me to answer?”
My face flamed, and I started to shut the door. His hand and quiet laugh stopped it.
“Calm down, Sunshine.” He glanced over my head. “What’cha doin’?”
I folded my arms over my chest. “The same thing I was doing the last time you saw me.” I forced myself to look at him. “Seriously. What do you want?”
“Last time I saw you, Gracie, you were in the grass and I was lookin’ down at ya. After you kissed me, that is.”
His sharp accent and cocky remark took me off-guard, but I bounced back quick, trying to mask my awkwardness. Something about Brax made me lose all wittiness I’d accumulated over the years, scrapping with my sarcastic brothers. But Brax wasn’t my brother. He was a strange guy I knew nothing about. I corrected him. “You kissed me. And the last time I saw you, you were right where you are now. Leaving.”
Brax laughed, thoroughly amused, and the sound came out raspy and husky and as completely male as his speaking voice. Although he made me nervous, I was surprised to find I liked hearing that laugh, his voice. Now he leaned against the door jamb, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest. It didn’t appear that he was going to leave anytime soon. “Yeah, got me there.” His gaze moved over my face, lingered on my mouth—the scar on my lip, I imagined—and then lifted. I waited for him to ask me about it, my scar, but to my surprise, he didn’t. “Who’s that?” he asked instead, inclining his head to the poster I’d been hanging.
I glanced over my shoulder in the direction of his stare and turned back to him. “Maria Mitchell. One of the first female astronomers. You agreed to leave me alone, remember?” He really never had, but I’d hoped to convince him otherwise. I couldn’t even begin to imagine why he was here. I’d been pretty blunt before, just trying to get my point across. I wasn’t one of those giggly girls who swooned as Brax Jenkins held a door open for me. Hadn’t I made that clear enough? “Did … you forget something?”