and for a frightening second, pressure clamped down on my chest and I couldn’t move or think. I was thrown back five years. Stuck. Couldn’t move. Air punched from my lungs in a painful rush as tingles spread up the back of my neck. Every muscle locked up.
‘Hey …’ The voice softened, edged with concern. ‘Are you okay?’
I forced myself to take a deep breath—to just breathe. I needed to breathe. Air in. Air out. I had practiced this over and over for five years. I wasn’t fourteen anymore. I wasn’t there. I was here, halfway across the country.
Two fingers pressed under my chin, forcing my head up. Startling, brilliant blue eyes framed with thick black lashes fixed on mine. A blue so vibrant and electric, and such a stark contrast against the black pupils, I wondered if the color was real.
And then it hit me.
A guy was holding me. A guy had never held me. I didn’t count that one time, because that time didn’t count for shit, and I was pressed against him, thigh to thigh, my chest to his. Like we were dancing. My senses fried as I inhaled the light scent of cologne. Wow. It smelled good and expensive, like his …
Anger suddenly rushed through me, a sweet and familiar thing, pushing away the old panic and confusion. I latched on to it desperately and found my voice. ‘Let. Go. Of. Me.’
Blue Eyes immediately dropped his arm. Unprepared for the sudden loss of support, I swayed to the side, catching myself before I tripped over my bag. Breathing like I’d just run a mile, I pushed the thick strands of hair out of my face and finally got a good look at Blue Eyes.
Sweet baby Jesus, Blue Eyes was …
He was gorgeous in all the ways that made girls do stupid things. He was tall, a good head or two taller than me, and broad at the shoulders, but tapered at the waist. An athlete’s body—like a swimmer’s. Wavy black hair toppled over his forehead, brushing matching eyebrows. Broad cheekbones and wide, expressive lips completed the package created for girls to drool over. And with those sapphire-colored eyes, holy moly …
Who thought a place named Shepherdstown would be hiding someone who looked like this?
And I ran into him. Literally. Nice. ‘I’m sorry. I was in a hurry to get to class. I’m late and …’
His lips curved up at the corners as he knelt. He started gathering up my stuff, and for a brief moment I felt like crying. I could feel tears building in my throat. I was really late now; no way could I walk into that class late, especially on the first day. Fail.
Dipping down, I let my hair fall forward and shield my face as I started grabbing up my pens. ‘You don’t have to help me.’
‘It’s no problem.’ He picked up a slip of paper and then glanced up. ‘Astronomy 101? I’m heading that way, too.’
Great. For the whole semester I’d have to see the guy I nearly killed in the hallway. ‘You’re late,’ I said lamely. ‘I really am sorry.’
With all my books and pens back in my bag, he stood as he handed it back to me. ‘It’s okay.’ That crooked grin spread, revealing a dimple in his left cheek, but nothing on the right side. ‘I’m used to having girls throw themselves at me.’
I blinked, thinking I hadn’t heard the blue-eyed babe right, because surely he hadn’t said something as lame as that.
He had, and he wasn’t done. ‘Trying to jump on my back is new, though. Kind of liked it.’
Feeling my cheeks burn, I snapped out of it. ‘I wasn’t trying to jump on your back or throw myself at you.’
‘You weren’t?’ The lopsided grin remained. ‘Well, that’s a shame. If so, it would have made this the best first day of class in history.’
I didn’t know what to say as I clutched the heavy bag to my chest. Guys hadn’t flirted with me back at home. Most of them hadn’t dared to look in my direction in high school and the very few that did, well, they hadn’t been flirting.
Blue Eyes’s gaze dropped to the slip of paper in his hand. ‘Avery Morgansten?’
My heart jumped. ‘How do you know my name?’
He cocked his head to the side as the smile inched wider. ‘It’s on your schedule.’
‘Oh.’ I pushed the wavy strands of hair back from my hot face. He handed my schedule back, and I took it, slipping it into my bag. A whole lot of awkward descended as I fumbled with my strap.
‘My name is Cameron Hamilton,’ Blue Eyes said. ‘But everyone calls me Cam.’
Cam. I rolled the name around, liking it. ‘Thank you again, Cam.’
He bent over and picked up a black backpack I hadn’t noticed. Several locks of dark hair fell over his forehead and as he straightened, he brushed them away. ‘Well, let’s make our grand entrance.’
My feet were rooted to the spot where I stood as he turned and strolled the couple of feet to the closed door to room 205. He reached for the handle, looking over his shoulder, waiting.
I couldn’t do it. It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I had plowed into what was possibly the sexiest guy on campus. I couldn’t walk into the class and have everybody turn and stare. I’d had enough of being the center of attention everywhere I went for the last five years. Sweat broke out and dotted my forehead. My stomach tightened as I took a step back, away from the classroom and Cam.
He turned, brows knitted as a curious expression settled on his striking face. ‘You’re going in the wrong direction, sweetheart.’
I’d been going in the wrong direction half my life, it seemed. ‘I can’t.’
‘Can’t what?’ He took a step toward me.
And I bolted. I actually spun around and ran like I was in a race for the last cup of coffee in the world. As I made it to those damn double doors, I heard him call out my name, but I kept going.
My face was flaming as I hurried down the stairs. I was out of breath as I burst out of the science building. My legs kept moving until I sat down on a bench outside of the adjacent library. The early-morning sun seemed too bright as I lifted my head and squeezed my eyes shut.
Geez.
What a way to make a first impression in a new city, new school … new life. I moved more than a thousand miles to start over and I had already mucked it up in a matter of minutes.
I had two options at this point: let go and move on from my disastrous attempt to attend my first class of my college career or go home, climb into bed, and pull the covers over my head. I so wanted to indulge in the second option.
If running and hiding wasn’t my MO, I would’ve never survived high school.
Reaching down, I checked the wide, silver bracelet on my left wrist, making sure it was in place. I almost didn’t survive high school.
Mom
