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When Levi clears his throat, I cringe.
This particular instructor is well known on campus for calling out wayward students who dare to talk during his lectures and shaming them into silence. From the rumors I’ve heard, more than one girl has run out in tears.
“Actually, I do. You mentioned a project that’ll be due at the end of the semester.” When the older man nods, Levi continues, voice growing more confident as he lounges on his chair. “I was wondering if we’ll be able to pick our own partners or if they’ll be assigned.”
“They’ll be assigned in a few weeks.”
“Is there any way we can choose our own?”
A blush hits my cheeks as the professor’s gaze flickers to me.
“No.”
“Hmm. That kind of sucks.”
“Yes, well, such is life,” he says dismissively.
When Levi remains silent, the older man arches a brow. “May I continue, or do you have more questions?”
Levi’s expression turns thoughtful before he nods like a king giving his consent for the festivities to continue. “You may.”
The professor grits his teeth before shooting Levi one last glare. A few seconds later, he moves on to the next bullet point on what feels like a never-ending list. Unable to resist glancing at Mason, I twist in my chair again. Unlike the previous times, his attention is fastened to me. A burst of energy zips down my spine, making every fiber of my being feel as if it’s coming alive. His jaw is tightly clenched as our gazes stay locked. Even from here, I can almost see the muscle ticking in his cheek.
It's only when Levi jostles me that I straighten. For the rest of the hour, I’m absurdly aware of the man sitting in the back. I can’t help but shift on my chair with the need to twist around and see if he’s staring or if the prickle at the nape of my neck is nothing more than my imagination.
Once the professor dismisses us, I shove everything inside my bag. Even though I tell myself it’s because I need to hustle to my next class, deep down, I know that’s a lie. It has nothing to do with the education course with my favorite professor and everything to do with my father’s assistant coach.
When I scoot from the row, Levi glances at me with a frown. “Hey, aren’t you going to wait?”
Instead of packing up, he’s talking with a couple of teammates.
I shake my head. “Sorry, I need to get moving. But I’ll catch you later, okay?”
Not bothering to wait for a response, I shimmy past into the aisle. My gaze darts to the desk Mason had been parked at, only to find it empty. I catch a flash of dark hair and brawny arms near the exit before he disappears into the corridor.
I huff out a breath. Unfortunately for me, the aisle is overflowing with people all moving in the same direction.
At this rate, I’ll never catch up to him.
I almost falter as that thought flits through my head. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized my intentions. Now that I have, I shove my way to the exit with purpose. A few students grumble as I cut them off. When I finally make it to the long stretch of hallway, I glance one way and then the other, but I don’t see Mason anywhere.
Damn.
The disappointment that surges through me is almost shocking.
I race toward the main exit and push through the glass door into the sultry North Carolina heat. Even though it’s only ten in the morning, I can already tell the day will be a scorcher.
I squint against the bright sunlight as my gaze scans the sea of students coming and going from the social science building. My heart stutters when I finally catch sight of Mason. Even though the walkway is congested, he sticks out with the broad set of his shoulders and thickly corded arms. Another round of arousal detonates in my core as I take off down the wide stone stairs and then the pathway to catch up with him. I hasten my steps, slipping through the pedestrian traffic.
A handful of seconds later, I pull alongside him. “Hey.”
When he doesn’t give me the time of day, I reach out and touch his bare forearm. “Mason.”
Surprised by the contact, his gaze cuts to mine and goosebumps break out across my flesh. I’m just as bowled over by him now as I was the first time we ran into each other.
When he doesn’t acknowledge the greeting, nerves explode inside me, and my heartbeat picks up tempo, pounding uncomfortably in my chest.
“Poppy,” I whisper, attempting to jog his memory. “We met at my dad’s office.”
