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Malia-Tarni
I haven’t been back to Shark Harbour since meeting and agreeing to go out with Cove. It’s been a couple of days and I’m really missing the ocean. Even Summer has noticed how uptight I’ve been. I guess I could surf somewhere else, but Shark has been my favourite spot since I arrived, and I don’t see why I should change that just to avoid a guy. Even if he’s a really cute guy with eyes the colour of the ocean on a glassy day, hair like sand in the midday sun, and a smile that lights up his entire cute, dimpled face.
If I spoke to Summer about it, she would get all over excited and tell me that I have a crush on Cove. And she’d probably be right, which is why I’m keeping all thoughts of him – which is way more than I’d like to admit – to myself. I don’t do crushes. They’re rarely reciprocated and even when they are, it never leads to anything good.
When I enter my lecture hall and go to take my usual spot, I find the mountain man sitting in it.
“That’s my seat.” I frown, pulling my earbuds from my ears so that I can hear his reply. It pisses me off because the opening bars of Papa Roach’s ‘Last Resort’ was just starting up and I seriously love that song.
I’m also on edge because just being in his proximity dulls the noise around me. I take a deep breath as he sucks the tension and stress that is my constant companion right from my body with his mere presence. It relaxes and unnerves me somehow.
“Don’ see any name on it,” he drawls with a shrug.
“I always sit here. Which you would know, if you bothered to come to class,” I snap. It’s true, he’s not been in all week, and his absence has made classes more challenging than ever. I guess I quickly got used to his presence, and once it was gone, concentrating became even more difficult. I want to ask him where he’s been, demand that he never leaves me again, but of course I don’t. I just throw him my fiercest glare.
He chuckles.
“Aww, did you miss me?”
Yes.
“No!”
“You can sit on my lap if you like, I’m not against sharing my seat with a pretty little thing like you.”
I scowl. No way am I sitting on his lap. Even as my traitorous mind envisions being wrapped in a warm bubble of silence.
“Take a seat please, Miss. You’re holding up my class.”
My face burns with the shame of being called out by the professor in front of everyone, and as all eyes in the room turn to stare at me, my skin comes alive, crawling with embarrassment.
I drop to the seat next to mountain man’s, failing to reach out and clasp the drop-down base properly, and I crash noisily to the floor. Laughter rings out around me and I long to stay on the floor out of sight. I’ve dropped one of my earbuds in the process and it’s rolled into the row in front where I can’t reach it. There’s no hiding or escaping now.
A strong hand wraps itself around my bicep and jerks me up into my seat.
“Thank you, Bhodi. Now let’s begin,” the professor calls.
Mountain man – Bhodi – smirks at me and drops a hand down onto my thigh.
I know I should shove it away, but I almost weep in relief as the excited chatter and laughter at my misfortune dies away under his touch.
Tears of gratitude prick at the corner of my eyes, and I have to stare down at my notebook to prevent them from falling. I sit, frozen and statue-still for the entire lecture, unable to move or hear anything. The blood is pounding too hard in my ears for me to hear a word the teacher is saying, and I know that I’m going to have to approach someone for the notes of this lecture if I don’t want to fall behind.
I’m not sure which thought fills me with more dread.
When the lecture finishes and students begin to pack up and leave, I remain frozen in my seat. Bhodi gets to his feet and stares down at me, absolutely towering over me. I don’t move. I can’t.
“S’cuse me,” he says gruffly.
“Can I…May I…Do you think I could…”
“W-W-what? S-s-spit it out already!” he snaps. I cringe. Once again, several pairs of eyes within the room are on us, including the professor.
“Could I please borrow your notes from today?” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“What? Speak up. I c-c-can’t hear you!” he bellows. I repeat myself but no matter how hard I try, I can’t raise my voice. He bends down, so that he’s right in my face and I ask again, while wanting the ground to swallow me whole.
“Is there a problem here?” I look up and see that the professor has left his lectern and come over to the row in front of ours. He bends down to pick something up and straightens, frowning.
