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CHAPTERONE
TESSA
“You excited about today?”
I stare at my toaster, my reflection comically distorted in the dented stainless steel. How long do Pop-Tarts take to cook, anyway?
“Tessa?”
“Oh, yeah.” I mentally shake my head, tuning back in to Mia on the phone. “Just trying not to psych myself out too much.”
“You and Joel will do great,” she assures me. “Dr. Price loves your study.”
Easy for her to say. She already has a published one under her belt.
No, that’s not fair. Mia’s been nothing but helpful. She helped me design the experiment, for Christ’s sake. I should be kissing her boots.
“You really think he likes it?” I ask as my Pop-Tarts finally pop up. I snatch them from the toaster and drop them onto a plate, sucking on my burned fingertips. How do I manage to do that every time?
“He wouldn’t have approved it if he didn’t. Besides, even Tyler said what you guys have is good. And you know he doesn’t say things just to be nice.”
Now that does make me feel better. Her boyfriend pulls no punches when it comes to the Stress Lab.
I shoulder my backpack and grab my keys off the kitchen counter, stuffing them in my back pocket before I pick up my water bottle and plate. Breakfast will have to be in the car if I’m going to make it to my Abnormal Psych class with enough time to review my notes before our quiz today. It’s only the third week into the semester and the pace is already picking up.
As I near the front door, the distinctive jingle of keys has my steps slowing, though. “Ugh.”
“What, Tyler?” Mia asks.
“No, no. My neighbor.” I peek through the door’s peephole. Yep, it’s him. “I don’t like being outside when he’s around.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
I sigh, studying him through the warped lens. That’s the thing. I can’t pinpoint any one issue that sets off my internal alarm. “He’s… intimidating.”
Too tall. Ridiculously muscled. Shoulder-length blond hair and overgrown beard that reminds me of some Viking warlord ready to pillage. Plus, in the month since I’ve moved in, I’ve never once seen him smile.
Not that I’ve been looking.
“Did he threaten you?”
My lips twitch at the hardness in her tone, as if she’s prepared to come over here and avenge me. “No. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about him that seems… dangerous. I’d just rather avoid him.”
And after everything I’ve been through, danger is the one thing I’ll never invite into my life. It’s better to play it safe.
Through the peephole, he pauses before leaving, swiveling in the direction of my door.
My heart falters in its rhythm. He can’t see through here, right? No, don’t be ridiculous.
Everything in me freezes, though, as he knocks on my door, his broad shoulders encased in a scuffed leather jacket filling the peephole’s view.
I cover my mouth to contain my gasp, forgetting that I’m holding my plate of Pop-Tarts in that hand, which promptly clatters to the floor. Wonderful.
“I know you’re in there,” he says, his deep voice making me jump.
Crap. Crap. Triple crap.
I push aside my ruined breakfast, my stomach rumbling in annoyance, and undo the chain lock, opening the door a crack. His gaze bores into me, the stormy gray of his eyes unexpected in their intensity.
