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I blink and my feet stall on their way towards the back. Build your own waffle? That doesn’t sound half bad. My stomach gurgles in response, angrily reminding me I’ve barely eaten since my mom left. Skipping out on breakfast this morning was probably a bad call.
I’m half tempted to ask the girls where exactly their dorm is and if I can join them for Waffle Wednesday when the door suddenly bursts open. My eyes widen on the man in the threshold and my mouth drops open.Is this a dream?I ask myself, looking around at the other students and wondering if they are seeing the same blonde standing before me. Is Alex really here? And if he is, why?
The Alex look-alike’s mischievous blue eyes lock on mine as he says, “Salut. Est-ce le Français 101?”
“Huh?” asks the guy in glasses, turning away from his freckled friend.
The professor looks up briefly from her book, appearing bored for a moment. Her eyes immediately widen when they land on Alex, and she jumps up from her chair, slamming the book down on the table. “Oui, c'est du Français 101,” she says in immaculate French, her eyes squinting as her smile takes up her whole face. “Comment vous appelez-vous?”
“Je m'appelle, Alex Goode.”
The professor takes his hand and shakes it firmly. "Chloé Blanc. Enchanté.”
It is Alex Goode. At least that’s as much as I can understand from their conversation. I look around myself, wondering if this is really happening. However, everyone is staring at the pair, watching them speak easily to one another in French.
So, I guess Alex Goode really is here.
But why? Isn’t he supposed to be on the East Coast, attending some expensive fancy school? Maybe he’s here for a track meet. I frown and shake my head. Competitions aren’t taking place yet. The school year only started.
There must be another reason why he’s here, standing at the front of my classroom, flirting with my French professor. I turn around and quickly make my way to the back row, tossing my body into a desk. They’re still speaking, and I’m trying everything I possibly can not to stare at him. I rifle through my bag, digging for my French book and throw it onto my desk. The pages are bent and torn, making me wrinkle my nose in distaste. I wanted a new book, but they were at least a hundred bucks a piece.
“At least this might have notes inside to help you,”Mom’s voice floats through my head.“You can probably learn more from a used book.”
My lip pokes out at the memory, and I slump even further in my chair, wanting to make myself invisible.
“Why such the long face?” asks someone approaching me.
Looking up, I find Alex heading towards me with a bright smile. His gaze has lost the sly glimmer, and he stares down at me with something familiar… Yet I can’t quite place it. He slides into the seat next to me, and before I can say anything, he gives me a wink.
“Don’t tell me Seth’s already texted you the terrible news.”
I blink back at him, not quite understanding what he’s saying. He’s speaking English. I know that much; however, the words go through one ear and out the other.
“Huh?” I breathe, feeling my face heat and my brows press together in confusion.
Great. I’m making an idiot out of myself in front of Lucas’s friend.
Alex chuckles. “I see you weren’t expecting to see me here either. Seth was pretty pissed.”
“Wait, wait,” I say, holding up a hand and closing my eyes for a brief moment to regain my composure. “Slow down. You saw Seth today?”
I open my eyes and watch Alex’s head bob up and down emphatically. “Yep, saw him at practice.”
“And you’re attending this class?” I point at my desk as if it’s suddenly become the whole classroom.
Alex nods once more.
I purse my lips, still not quite connecting the dots. “But-but, why?”
Alex presses his chin into his palm, his elbow digging into the desk while he leans towards me. “Well, I’m taking some pretty difficult classes this year. Cell and Molecular Biology, Anatomy, Advanced Multivariable Calculus.” He shrugs. “I know I’m already fluent in French, but I thought it’d be nice to have an easy class to relax in. Besides,” he adds while waggling his eyebrows, “French is quite a romantic language.”
“No, no, no,” I say while shaking my head. Part of me feels like he’s bragging, making me understand why Seth is always so frustrated and irritated by this guy. “I meant, why are you here?”
Alex pouts and my eyes narrow. I know he’s being flirtatious. There’s a sly glimmer in his eye, mixed with something else I can’t quite place. “You don’t want me here?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I sputter.
Alex flutters his eyelashes. “Then what did you mean?” he asks sweetly.
