“Um, yes,” I finally say as I take Hercules Valentine by his large hand. With one tug, I’m quickly on my feet.
His forehead puckers. “You stepped right in front me.”
Did I?That’s right—I wasn’t paying attention. “Sorry,” I say.
“No need to apologize. Just be careful. I could’ve hurt you bad. Your arm is bleeding.”
I follow his agitated eyes to my arm. I have an abrasion on the outside of my bicep. The wound starts stinging when I look at it.
“Do I know you?” he asks.
I press my palm over the broken skin. Oddly, I don’t want Hercules to see me bleeding. I also don’t want him to think that after three years, I’m still walking around as if I don’t have my act together.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Sorry. Thanks,” I mutter and run away from him as fast as I can.
* * *
I don’t loosenup until I'm inside our suite. With a sigh, I bend over and clutch my knees. Did that really just happen? It almost seems unreal. I literally ran into Hercules Valentine. He looked good, too—more handsome than I remembered. I never knew he was a runner. I’ve run on that track thousands of times. Why am I just seeing him today?
“Hey,” Dandi says.
I jump, startled, and quickly turn to her. She’s standing at the counter, munching on a Pop-Tart.
I stand up straight. “Hey. You’re up early.”
“And you look like you were chased by a werewolf.”
I snort. I finally feel the soreness of colliding with a man Hercules’s height and build. “Something like that.”
“Oh, were you with Boyles?”
I roll my eyes. “No.”
“Why the eye roll?”
“No. It’s not Boyles. It’s worse.”
Dandi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Worse? Do tell.”
I actually do want to sit down and tell her all about Hercules Valentine, but every moment is precious. My first class starts in less than an hour. I have to read over my paper for my second class. Then I have a project meeting with a group. And on top of all of that, Professor Holzinger, the instructor of my third class, warned of a possible quiz today. It’ll be worth ten points. Basically, I don't have time to powwow about Hercules Valentine, or Boyles, with Dandi.
“Maybe later.” I head to my room. “Gotta shower and get to class.”
Moving down the short hallway, I run into the reason Dandi’s up this early. He has red hair and is putting on his shirt. I’ve never seen this one before.
“Hey,” he says, smirking.
I smile tightly. The sight of him makes me tired of almost three years of random guys walking in and out of our dorm. My parents won't allow me to have an apartment—not on their dime. I've been thinking about making apps for smartphones to make money. Every time something like this happens, I get closer to doing just that.
There’s no time to seethe, though. Fortunately, another John or Kevin or Dan isn’t in the bathroom. That's happened before, too—I'm running late, and some random dude is jerking off in the shower or taking a dump.
After showering, I put on a pair of warm jeans and a thick sweater under my bomber jacket. I grab my book bag and one of those Pop-Tarts Dandi made earlier and guzzle down a cup of coffee, which she made too.
“Thank you!” I shout.
“You’re welcome, bookworm!” she replies from her room.
I’m out.
