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I should be thinking about the building, analyzing it, wondering whether this is the kind of place that I want to study for the next three years. I should be forming my first impressions right now and getting excited.
But, instead, the second I see Oz standing outside in a black coat over a less formal black and white outfit today, everything else goes out of my head.
How am I supposed to think about anything when all I can see is him?
I walk over as slowly and calmly as I can make myself, ignoring the urge to run and jump on him. The second I see him, it’s like a fire has been lit up inside my veins. It flashes right to the bottom of my stomach, too, leaving me burning for him. And more than that – my heart rate speeds up, my head starts to swim, and I can’t stop a smile from breaking out on my face no matter what I do.
I think I might be in trouble.
“Hi,” he says, casual and yet so perfect. Like it’s a scripted line from a movie, the way he moves towards me, reaching to lean down and kiss my cheek. “You got here right on time.”
“I tried hard,” I laugh because it’s somehow better to laugh at myself for having to rush over here than to acknowledge the butterflies fighting to break out of my stomach at the sight of him. I already want him so bad, and we’ve only been together for a few minutes. I feel like I’m turning inside out when I look at him, his dark hair just so over the sculpted lines of his brow and his cheekbones, his tall and strong frame that was so protective of me yesterday.
“We should head inside,” he says, gesturing with his head. “I have a feeling they’re probably running late because there’s no one here to greet us. But I spoke with the campus guides and they told me we need to go wait in a private meeting room just by the reception, where the tour starts from.”
“Wow,” I say, blinking. I thought he would only be a few minutes earlier than me – not early enough to find all of this out. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
He laughs, and turns towards the entrance, gesturing for me to follow him. “I wasn’t waiting at all,” he says. “I was just getting organized. Come on. I remember this place from my time here – it’s one of the older buildings on campus. Let’s go check it out.”
Chapter Twelve
Oz
We step into a private room that’s marked with a printed-out sign indicating that we should wait here for the tour guides, and find it deserted. I’m surprised it’s not overflowing with people – when Gabby said ‘tour’, I was imagining twenty or so prospective students, probably accompanied by their overbearing and fretting parents.
Which would not be good for me, standing next to Gabby, but here we are. I’d rather be mistaken for her dad than not get to spend time with her at all.
But here we are, and the room is empty. It looks like not much has changed except the posters on the noticeboard since I was a student here myself. It’s little more than a waiting room, there’s a small table scattered with leaflets and a couple of padded benches around the sides of the room where people can wait. There are no windows, which is a little disconcerting. It’s giving the impression that the college is badly in need of an update.
Which I’m sure won’t last, because we’re going on from here to tour all the new, modern additions the campus has seen over the last two decades. Still. Maybe I should have a word with the alumni association about sprucing things up a bit.
We take a seat on one of the benches, right beside each other. I half expect Gabby to move away slightly, but she doesn’t. She just stays where she is like she’s comfortable.
She might be the only one, because having her so close that I can feel the heat of her body is already beginning to drive me insane, and it’s only been thirty seconds.
“So, I guess we wait here,” I say, a little uncertain. I think I get away with it. It must sound like I’m not sure about the process here, just like I’m not sure I can handle sitting this close to her for very long.
“Was it like this when you came here?” Gabby asks, frowning slightly. Then she flushes a little and shakes her head. “Don’t answer that. It was too long ago. It might not even be the same year after year, let alone…”
“Decade after decade?” I suggest drily.
She makes a slight coughing noise as if to dispel the awkwardness. “Something like that,” she says. “Not in a bad way, you know. Just…”
