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I cringed. I hated lying to my mother. “I will, Momma. Talk to you soon.”
The chair squeaked against the tile as I plopped down. I wanted to freak out about it, but at least I’d bought myself some time. One problem at a time.
My phone buzzed again halfway through my lunch.
King:Ready for tomorrow?
A lighthearted laugh slipped from my mouth. I hadn’t dated much—okay, at all—in high school. No one ever showed me any interest. I had friends, sort of, but none of the guys gave me a second glance.
It excited me to have a date.
Me:Yep. Nervous, but excited.
I finished my lunch and tossed my trash before heading to the art building for Intro to Art Design.
King:Haven’t changed your mind yet, have you?
Me:Nope.
I stopped in front of my class and waited.
King:Maverick seemed pissed this morning. Are you sure y’all don’t have anything going on?
It didn’t surprise me that Maverick’s mood hadn’t changed since the night before. He always walked around with a frown on his face.
Me:Maverick and I aren’t anything. He hates me, always has.
I deleted the last part, not wanting King to think Maverick pushed me around my entire life, and shoved my phone into my jeans pocket.
***
The day flew by with a building homework pile and an email with my schedule that would keep me busy at the writing center.
The smell of food wafted from the apartment when I made my way home around six. Jordan yelped out and I rushed in to find him trying to handle a boiling pot of mac-n-cheese.
His dark eyes met mine and he laughed. “Wow ... Gordon Ramsey, everyone,” I said turning the burner down.
“Shut up,” he laughed. “I just wanted some mac-n-cheese.”
I put the pot back down. “Once it starts boiling you have to turn the heat down or it’ll run over.”
Jordan huffed, turning his baseball hat around backward. “This is for the birds. I’ve been living off campus for three years and I still don’t know hownotto burn mac-n-cheese.”
I sat my backpack down on the kitchen table. “I know a little about cooking, I can help if you need it.”
He eyed me questionably. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I grabbed a salad from the café but I haven’t eaten it yet.”
“Cool want some tacos?”
Thirty minutes later, the apartment smelled great and music spilled from the living room TV. Jordan wore a huge smile once we started making our plates and sat down at the table to eat.
“I’m so stoked you’re here,” he said, taco sauce running down his chin. “I mean—I love to eat.”
I chuckled, adding some sour cream before taking an unladylike bite. “Well, we can expand your knowledge some for when I’m gone.”
Jordan looked over his food. “So, I mean, if you can’t find a place to stay I don’t mind you staying here, especially if you’re gonna help me cook.”
