“I could tell,” she said, gathering her rich brown hair into a sleek ponytail and securing it with a glittery hair clip. “You know I talked to him, right?”
“When?”
“At the rodeo, when you were off with Mr. Hottie.”
Sophia frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What was there to tell? I was just trying to distract him. The Duke guys hated him, by the way.” She adjusted a few strands that she had artfully loosened from the ponytail, then met Sophia’s gaze in the mirror. “You have to admit, I’m the best roommate ever, right? Convincing you to go out with us? If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be moping around our room all day. All of which makes me wonder when I’m going to get the chance to meet your new stud.”
“We didn’t talk about getting together again.”
Marcia’s face was incredulous. “How could you not talk about it?”
Because we’re different, Sophia thought. And because… she didn’t really know why, other than that the dizzy way the kiss made her feel obliterated all practical thought.
“All I know is that he’s going to be out of town next weekend. He’s going to be riding in Knoxville.”
“So call him. Invite him over to the house before he leaves.”
Sophia shook her head. “I’m not going to call him.”
“And if he doesn’t call you?”
“He said he would.”
“A lot of times, guys just say that and you never hear from them again.”
“He’s not like that,” she said, and as if proving her point, her cell phone began to ring. Recognizing Luke’s phone number, she grabbed it and jumped up from the bed.
“Don’t tell me that’s him, already.”
“He said he would call to make sure I got home safely.”
Sophia was already bounding to the door, barely noticing her roommate’s surprise or the words she muttered to herself as Sophia slipped into the hallway. “I’ve really, really got to meet this guy.”
On Thursday evening, an hour after the sun had gone down, Sophia was finishing up her hair when Marcia turned toward her. She’d been standing at the window and watching for Luke’s truck, making Sophia feel even more nervous than she already was. She’d vetoed three of Sophia’s outfits, had lent her a pair of gold, dangly earrings and a necklace that matched, and as she skipped toward Sophia, she didn’t bother to hide her excitement.
“He’s here. I’m going downstairs to meet him at the door.”
Sophia let out a long breath. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“No, you stay in the room for a few minutes. You don’t want him to think you were watching for him.”
“I wasn’t watching for him,” Sophia said. “You were.”
“You know what I mean. You need to make an entrance. He needs to see you coming down the stairs. The last thing you want is for him to think you’re desperate.”
“Why are you making this so complicated?” Sophia protested.
“Trust me,” Marcia said. “I know what I’m doing. Come down in three minutes. Count to a hundred or something. I’ve got to go.”
She fled, leaving Sophia alone with her nerves, her stomach feeling topsy-turvy. Which was strange, since they’d talked on the phone for an hour or more the last three nights, picking up each conversation exactly where they had left off. He would usually call around dusk, and she’d talk to him from the porch, trying to imagine how he looked at that moment and replaying their day together endlessly.
Spending time with him at the ranch was one thing. That was easy. But seeing Luke here? At the sorority house? He might as well be visiting Mars. In the three years she’d lived here, the only guys who’d ever come to the house – aside from brothers or fathers or boyfriends from back home – were either frat boys, or recently graduated frat boys, or frat boys from other colleges.
She’d gently tried to warn him but wasn’t sure quite how to tell him that the girls in the house would probably regard him as an exotic specimen, a subject of endless chatter as soon as he left. She’d suggested meeting him off campus, but he’d said he’d never been to Wake and wanted to walk around. She fought the urge to race downstairs and hurry him out the door as quickly as possible.
Remembering Marcia’s insistent advice, Sophia took a deep breath and gave herself the once-over in the mirror. Jeans, blouse, pumps: pretty much what she’d worn the last time they’d been together, but upgraded. She turned first one way and then the other, thinking, That’s all I can do. Then she gave a coy smile and admitted, But not bad at all.