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“You have two more minutes,” Sean reminds me when I try to kiss him goodbye.
I settle against the cool white paint-covered brick wall as he crowds me like he’s protecting me from something.
Then, I spot a familiar face entering the building.
My eyes follow Caleb Goode, and my heart picks up speed when I notice him walking straight toward us.
“Goode,” Sean says, addressing him as he turns away from me. The two guys greet each other with a casual handshake and chest bump thing. And when Caleb glances at me, I have to look away. “What are you doing here?” Sean asks him.
Caleb points toward the door. “I had to switch to art history,” he says. “I didn’t have enough humanities credits to graduate.”
Sean scoffs. “That’s so fucking lame. Like you need this shit in the real world, right?”
Caleb only chuckles uncomfortably, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
“I don’t know a single thing about art history,” Caleb says, and I can feel his eyes on me again.
“I can help you,” I reply in a soft stammer.
“You’re in this class?” he asks.
My lips tug into a crooked smirk. “This is my major. I’m the TA.”
Caleb’s expression doesn’t change as he nods. “Lucky me.”
Swallowing the strange feeling building in my throat, I glance down at my watch. “We should go in. Class is starting.”
Sean slaps my ass and kisses my cheek before shoving me toward the door. Then he turns to Caleb. “She’ll make sure you pass. It’s the least she can do after fucking up your car the other day.”
Leaving them behind, I enter the classroom and head toward the front. The professor is a woman well into her sixties, and she’s nice. Most of the semester already, I’ve spent just watching and helping where she needs it. But it’s laid back. This means I get to spend three hours a week just listening to someone talk about art, and as boring as that sounds to most, it’s like heaven to me.
When I glance up at the door and watch Caleb walk in after talking to Sean, he gives me an awkward wave. Caleb has the kind of face you don’t forget. He’s not just handsome. Sean is handsome. Henry Cavill is handsome.
Caleb is…unforgettable.
And it’s so much more than the features of his face—the sandy-brown hair he keeps combed back and the sharp cheekbones and the warm hazel orbs.
It’s the light in his eyes. The gentleness of his smile.
I hope that whoever ends up with him appreciates that.
Sean talks about how strange Caleb is because he never hangs out with them or flirts with the cheerleaders at practice, but I don’t think he’s strange. When he looks at me, it’s like he actually sees me.
Caleb takes a seat toward the back, and when the professor starts talking, I head up the stairs and slide into the seat next to him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be teaching or something?” he whispers.
I smile as I rest my chin in my hand and keep my eyes on the screen portraying Degas. “Not really. I mostly help grade papers.”
“Sounds boring,” he replies.
“I love it.” After a moment, I add, “I’m sorry about hitting your car.”
“I don’t care about my car,” he replies under his breath. When I glance toward him with a soft smile, I see something like hesitation on his face, like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t.
“I can still help you in this class,” I say, looking into his soulful eyes.
He stares back, and the warmth from his gaze makes me feel as if I’m melting. “Thank you.”
