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“Yeah, I am,” I confirm. I don’t need to glance at Lennon to know she’s probably rolling her eyes.
“What are you doinghere?”
“My girlfriend.” I nod to Lennon, then follow her toward the stairs. “What room are you?” I ask.
Lennon flips the folder open. “219.”
“Second floor?”
“Great guess,” Lennon mutters sarcastically.
I smirk as I trail up the stairs after her. The dorms are air-conditioned, but the frequent opening and closing of every door in the residence hall means the HVAC system is being rendered mostly irrelevant for the time being.
There are a few side glances as we walk along in search of Lennon’s room, which is bizarre. I don’t interact with many people on campus. It’s strange to realize random people recognize me at first glance.
We reach 219. Lennon uses her new student ID to unlock the nondescript wooden door. It swings open to reveal a compact room. The walls are white and the floor is covered by a dark gray carpet. A twin-sized bed, desk, and chest of drawers are the only furniture. I stack the two boxes I’m holding on the desk and glance at Lennon.
“What do you think?”
She surveys the small space. “That I over-packed.”
It takes three more trips to transport the rest of her belongings from the bed of my truck into her new room.
My phone vibrates as she begins opening boxes. It’s Drew, asking if I want a ride to the team meeting.
I reply, telling him I’ll meet them there, then turn to Lennon.
Her expression is knowing. “You’ve got to go to a baseball thing, right?”
“Right,” I confirm. “But the field house is only ten minutes away, not three hours. I’ll be back in an hour. Two, tops.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got a lot of unpacking and organizing to do, anyway. My advisor wants to meet with me tomorrow, so I need to go over all the Journalism requirements. And also figure out where the school store is so I can get all my books…”
Her voice trails off when she catches my smirk.
“What?”
I shrug. “It’s just funny seeing you be all nerdy again. Reminds me of high school.”
Lennon manages to blush and look indignant simultaneously. “Nerdy?”
“It was a compliment,” I assure her. My phone vibrates in my pocket again. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Okay,” Lennon replies.
I step forward to kiss her, then turn to leave. “Oh, wait. I forgot to give you this.” I grab one box off her desk, rifle through it, then hold out the plastic bag I snuck into it last night while she was packing. “Here.”
Lennon’s brow wrinkles as she grabs the bag from me and rips it open.
“Now that we go to the same school again, I thought you might want to wear it,” I say as she holds up theClarkson Baseballsweatshirt. “You can still wear the Landry one back home.”
Lennon flips the material over, staring at my name and number on the back.
“Some girl told me they don’t sell sweatshirts with your name on it in the school store,” she tells me, raising one eyebrow.
I grin. “They don’t. See you later, Matthews.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
