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Her family consists of still-married parents and a younger brother; mine is entirely absent.
There’s no telling why we were paired together, and maybe there’s a reason for that.
Tonight, Kennedy talked me into accompanying her to a small get-together Mark, a cute guy in her marketing class, had invited her to. Except Mark’s attractiveness apparently erased some key information shared during the interaction—likewhereexactly the party was being held.
After wandering down Birch and Maple, we ended up on Oak Street, which hosts most of Greek Row. Cold and confused, we walked into this party that appears to include most of campus.
I don’t think I’ve ever been in close proximity to this many people at once before, and I’ve already decided I don’t like it. Not even the warmth seems worth it. The air in here feels heavy and hot, like the steam of an indoor pool. Except instead of chlorine, it’s weighted with sweat and smoke.
Chatter continues around me, making me feel like I’m marooned on an island of one.
I walk over to the fridge, open the door, and stare at the inner contents. The wordmessdoesn’t even begin to cover the disaster inside. Cardboard takeout containers, half-full sports drinks, an apple with a single bite taken out of it.
I shut the door, eyeing the counter to the left of the fridge. It’s covered with an assortment of alcohol and a few cans of soda. Most opened, a few not. I angle toward the uncracked can of ginger ale, but two guys are blocking most of the countertop.
The song playing ends, and I take advantage of the brief pause in noise. “Excuse me, could I just…”
The guy closer to me turns around, and the question dies in the back of my throat.
I’m not sure why.
I’m not shy, really, more antisocial. Not bubbly or gregarious or up for any adventure. If I have something to say, I have no issue shouting it.
But words are hard to find right now.
The blanket of heat and unpleasant odors in the air fade away as my gaze scans the tall figure leaning against the kitchen counter while he studies me right back.
I’ve never seen him before.
I know—not because I’m registering details about what he’s wearing or what color his hair is, but because I’ve never felt this pull before. It feels like the moon and the tide.
The moon minds its own business. It rises and sets while the tide is powerless to do anything but shift in response.
His lips twitch as he watches me observe him. Not quite a smile and not mocking either. He’s amused by my appraisal, it seems. Dark green eyes—the same shade as evergreens—dart down and up.
It doesn’t feel like he’s checking me out. There’s nothing predatory or sexual about the quick inspection. Just curious.
I’ve never been the girl that guys notice when she walks into the room. I like observing people more than I enjoy interacting with them. But I wanthimto notice me. The uncomfortable itch that scrutiny and attention usually elicit is wholly absent.
I hold out my hand. The guys I went to high school with usually looked at me with a mixture of pity and superiority. The damsel in distress and the butt of the joke.
But this dark-haired stranger doesn’t look anything but contemplative when he grips my offered hand. His palm is callous and warm. The second our skin collides, I feel the touch everywhere, pinpricks of awareness racing down my spine and spreading through every nerve ending.
A new song starts in the living room, the beat as heavy and constant as the last melody that was blasted.
“Hi.”
Details begin to register. His eyes remind me of marbles in the sun. So many swirls with shades of colors that whirl and shift. Mostly green, but with the occasional glimpse of blue or gray.
I clear my throat, feeling flushed and uncertain as I repeat the simple greeting. “Hi.”
A small smile plays across lips that are full and look unaccustomed to amusement. He makes no further effort at conversation, but he doesn’t seem annoyed I’m standing here, staring at him. Mostly intrigued.
I’ve never expended this much effort into reading a stranger’s body language before. Never been so fascinated by someone whose name I don’t even know.
It’s weird. And somewhat thrilling.
“I’ll see you at home, man.” The second guy glances between me and the stranger still looking at me. Raises one brow and smirks.
