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“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
Meeting his eyes, seeing the very real emotion there, Phyllis started to cry. “Thanks,” she said, letting the tears roll slowly down her cheeks while she continued to hold his gaze.
He didn’t move, didn’t touch her. But Phyllis felt as though he’d wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. He’d lent her his strength.
Making everything just a little easier.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SOPHIE CURTIS’S ALARM woke her up from a nice dream about her parents. Reaching over to shut it off so she could get back to sleep, she cursed when her knuckles hit her desk chair, instead. Oh yeah. She was in the dorm. Not at home where she would’ve been if her father hadn’t decided to take off with his secretary all those years ago and leave her mom behind to fall apart—and to marry every man who was halfway decent to her.
Damn.
She rolled over, feeling groggy and disoriented. She knew her dizziness came from hunger, and she kind of liked that sensation. In the first place, it slowed down the thinking process a little bit—always a relief to Sophie, whose mind never gave her a moment’s peace. And it also meant she was strong, in control. She hadn’t pigged out—eaten too much—yesterday.
Peeking out through the lashes of one eye, Sophie determined that her roommate had made it to her first class. Good. She didn’t feel like being chatty this morning.
What she felt like doing was going back to sleep. And maybe she would. She could sleep through breakfast. And lunch, too.
But she had her advanced lighting-design class today. An entire hour with Matt. And if she was lucky and he had them work on their individual projects, she’d probably have some time alone with him.
Out of bed, Sophie stumbled to the bathroom. Then she headed, naked, to stand sideways in front of the floor-length mirror on her closet door. Damn. She ran her hand down her belly. There was still a slight bulge.
With a heavy heart, she pulled out the scale she had shoved in the back of her closet and stepped on to it. A hundred and one. Down another pound.
Feeling a little better, she looked in the mirror again. The bulge was still there. She wondered if maybe something was wrong with her.
She shook her head. No. She was just scaring herself. Most people had a bit of a rounded shape to them. Except models who, everyone knew, were anorexic and unhealthy.
So what was she going to wear this morning? Something tight to reveal her legs and butt so Matt could see how much weight she’d lost. But a bulky top. She couldn’t have him seeing that bulge.
He’d told her once that blue was her color. Because of her eyes. She pulled a blue angora sweater out of her bottom drawer.
Okay, so he’d been speaking of a series of lights she’d put together. He’d mentioned that they were the blue that was about the color of her eyes. And that she tended to use blues a lot, probably because they complemented her, and students tended to lean toward the colors they felt good about.
But she’d known what he meant. He liked her in blue.
Pulling on the black jeans she’d saved to wear for him today, Sophie frowned until she could fasten the button at the top and see that the waistband was a little loose.
If she ever got her chance with Matt, which she was sure she would one of these days, she wanted to be absolutely sure she was perfect for him.
More perfect than she’d been for Jason. And Stu. And Paul. She’d been good in bed—it was the one thing she knew she could do well—but not good enough to hold on to any of them. Oh, Paul still hung around, just like he’d been hanging around for more than a year, but she knew he’d taken that cheerleader to bed.
Just like her father and his secretary.
No, what Sophie needed was a real man like Matt Sheffield. He’d know the value of a beautiful woman’s body. He’d never just use her for momentary satisfaction. He was strong and true.
Look how nice he’d been to her when she’d finally gotten up the courage to seek him out the other day. She’d been on the verge of tears, ready to give up on everything, and just being with him had made her feel better. She’d felt resolute and focused, able to cope again.
And he’d practically begged her to stay in his classes.
God. She loved him so much it hurt.
PHYLLIS STARTED BLEEDING again the next afternoon. Heart pounding, she stood there in her bathroom, looking at the evidence. It was only a little bit, she told herself. Not enough to be significant.
But it could get worse.
