I spit, rinsed, and threw water on my face. Pushing my fingers through my hair, I stared in the mirror. And the longer I stared, the more I wondered. And got pissed at myself. What the hell are you doing, Jenkins?

“I don’t f**king know,” I finally said to my reflection. “I just don’t f**king know.”

8. Curve Ball

Tessa’s screeching alarm jolted me out of sleep and brought me to my first conscious thought of the day.

Braxton Jenkins. Brax. This couldn’t be happening. I closed my eyes and breathed.

“Dammit! That noise is so freaking annoying!” Tessa said in a sleepy voice. Her voice was scratchy and groggy in the dark, and after a few seconds she found her cell and turned off the alarm. I pushed up and rubbed my eyes, and flicked on the lamp. Tessa’s floppy hair ball was again slumped over to one side, and she was in full stretch/yawn mode. She peeked at me through squinted eyes. “Did you shower last night?” she asked. “Because I totally didn’t.”

By the time Tessa had made it back to the dorm it’d been close to 2am. She tried to tiptoe in, but tripped over one of the three pairs of discarded heels she’d tossed onto the floor before she left, and it took almost an hour for me to fall back asleep. No wonder her eyeballs were puffy. Crazy thing. I gave my roommate a grin. “Yeah, go for it.”

“Sweet!” Tessa said. She leapt up, grabbed some necessities, and darted for the bathroom. “Thanks! I’ll be out in a sec!” She slammed the door behind her.

I slipped from my bed, yawning as I cleared the nighttime cobwebs from my head, and padded over to my very slim fold-out closet. Stretching my arms way overhead, thoughts of Brax and our conversations filled my head. I’d had fun with him yesterday. A lot more than I even admitted to myself. So much that he’d managed to completely kick the dreadful thoughts I had lingering about Kelsy right out of my brain. I wondered if I’d run into Brax today? I’d be lying to myself if I said anything other than I hoped so.

First day of college. My anxiety from last night seemed to have dissipated, and eagerness filled its place. A familiar tug pulled at my mouth as I situated my gaze to the narrow rack of clothes. Thinking of Brax, his arrogance, and his Southie mannerisms made me smile. And I couldn’t get his face, and those ghostly eyes, out of my head. Just as I chose a treasured E.T.-The Extra-Terrestrial tee shirt that my mom had given me, my cell phone chirped an incoming text. As unavoidable as breathing, my stomach flipped from anticipation. I knew it was Brax before I even looked at my phone. Was I the first thing on his mind this morning, too? It was dangerous to think it, to hope it. But I dang sure did, and I couldn’t help it.

Brax: Wake your ass up, Sunshine. First day of college you know.

Shaking my head, I pulled at my lip with my teeth and grinned to myself.

Me: I’m already up, smarty pants. I’m an early riser anyway. What time’s your first class?

Brax: Smarty pants, eh? You’re wicked funny. Early riser, that’s right you’re usually out milking cows by now. 8am class for me. U?

Me: Same. Maybe I’ll see ya around.

Brax: Not if I see you first. ;)

Me: Very funny. Bye.

Brax: Catch ya later Gracie.

Brax Jenkins was an anomaly. While he looked like he’d knife you in a dark alley and rob you blind, he’d treated me with kindness and respect. He was funny. He was sexy and knew it, but not in an idiot way, like Tessa’s brother. And Brax might say his flirtations were part of his charm, but it was hard not to think otherwise when he point-blank asked questions like were you wondering why I didn’t try and kiss you? That’s something I’d tried really hard not to think about. Tessa had already warned me that he’d charm the pants off of me—at first. Is that what he was doing? And was I being naive enough to fall for it? It made my head ache thinking about all the stupid what-ifs. He seemed genuine. Real. Blunt and to the point. But was that all a perfected act to get what he wanted? The last thing I needed was to fall for some inked up bad boy baseball player, only to have my heart stomped on. Jesus, I hated doubts. Hated that I’d become such a suspicious person.

But did I really and truly want to go through any sort of hell again? Over a guy?

No, I wouldn’t go there. Not this time. I’d keep Brax Jenkins at a friendly distance, despite my traitorous heart doing monkey-flips at the mere thought of him.

By the time Tessa’s “sec” was over and she was out of the bathroom, I’d pulled on a pair of old soft faded jeans, my fave E.T. tee shirt, and a pair of All-Stars. After shaking out my hair and running a wide-toothed comb through it, I quickly re-braided it, brushed my teeth and washed my face. I was ready to go.

“God, I think I’m jealous,” Tessa said, staring at me in the mirror.

I wiped my mouth on my hand towel, hung it up and gave her a curious look. “Why?”

She pointed at me. “You throw on a ratty old tee shirt and some holey jeans and you look gorgeous.” She scowled at me, drawing her brows close. “No make-up. Low maintenance.” She rubbed her chin with a forefinger. “Maybe I’ll give that look a try.”

I shook my head and grabbed my backpack. “This is definitely not a ratty tee shirt, Tess.” I looked at her. “It’s a classic.” It was, too. I glanced down at it. My mom had preserved it from her teenaged years in the 80’s. An original E.T. movie tee shirt, black, with the logo and E.T.’s long glowing finger pointing. I loved it.

She grinned. “What-ev, freak. Let’s go.”

Together we cut across the courtyard, Tessa chatting non-stop and me slowly eating the spoonful of chunky peanut butter I’d grabbed on my way out. At the pavilion Tessa was joined by two other girls. “Guys, this is Olivia, my roomie. Liv, this is Marcie and Kelly,” she hugged them both. “My girls from back home.” Marcie was even taller than me, with nearly black, perfectly coifed hair and wide full lips. Kelly was Tessa’s height, petite, with a blonde stacked bob haircut that looked perfect on her. Her eyes were humongous and blue. Both smiled and said hey, but gave my big glob of peanut butter a strange look. Tessa waved. “See ya later.” They left, huddled together and giggling. Tessa’s laugh rose above the others, and I smiled and continued on my way to the Foster building and my first class of my college career: Lit Humanities.

The campus was alive and buzzing with students, even at this early hour in the morning, like ants pouring out of a mound. I continued eating off my spoon and weaved my way through sleepy-eyed and dreary walking college-goers, looking more like zombie extras from a horror movie than students. The scent of fresh cut grass rose from the ground and I inhaled; it reminded me of home and smelled clean and brisk. The air felt different this morning. An early onset of fall maybe? Or was it that I felt different? Either way, exhilaration filled me, and I trotted the steps of the bricked Foster front entrance two at a time. Inside, I shouldered my way down the hall to lecture hall 31, and ducked inside.

Winston was not a huge school, so the room wasn’t auditorium-style. It was just a big classroom, which was fine by me. A huge dry-erase board took up the wall behind the professor’s podium, and as I scanned the seats I noticed only three other students were there, spaced out, looking down at the handout that sat on every single desk.

“Peanut butter on a spoon, now that’s just cute as hell, Sunshine.”

Brax’s warm breath brushed my neck as he leaned over and whispered to me, and I jumped and looked at him. His eyes were clear and snapped with mischief. The purple around his eye had faded to pale lavender. “You’re in this class?” I asked, surprised.

Brax’s white ghost grin dominated his unusual face, and his hand gripped my elbow. He smelled good, freshly showered, hair still damp. Wearing a plain black tee shirt and jeans, he left me breathless. Which concerned me. “Weird, huh?” he said, and eyed my feet. “No boots?”

I narrowed my gaze. “You knew.” A smile tugged at those lips I had a hard time not staring at. I cleared my throat. “Boots aren’t functional for me here, Brax.”

“You were wearing them the first day I met you,” he said.

I shrugged. “They’d been functional earlier that day. When I’d shoveled horse poop.”

His mouth parted even wider, his teeth straight and white He guided me down the last row of seats, and slipped my back pack from my shoulder. “Let’s go sit back there,” he dropped his head close, his mouth near my ear, “E.T.” The whisper made my breath hitch. My gaze slipped over a blonde girl as we passed, and her eyes were glued to Brax. They grew wide and glassy as she stared, and I could in no way blame her.

His presence behind me made my nerves crackle. The place on my elbow where his fingers gripped turned warm, and that heat tumbled and shot all the way through my body. Awareness of his close proximity, and how he seemed to be hogging all the air around me, made my skin flush. Godalmighty, what was wrong with me? We took our seats beside each other and he draped my backpack over the back of my chair. He did the same to his, then leaned toward me, those perfect lips twitching.

“So what are you, some kind of a peanut butter eating Sci-Fi nerd?”

His voice was low, teasing, and raspy, and I liked it. I shrugged, smiled, gave him a quick glance, and turned my attention to the class curriculum on my desk. I licked my spoon. “The truth is out there.”

Brax’s laugh came straight from his gut, and I could tell it was real, one of those infectious sounds that inspired others to stop and join in. I peered at him, and his eyes were directly on me and he shook his head. He stopped laughing, but his eyes still danced. Grew serious. “You are so damn different.”

I wasn’t exactly sure how to take that remark, really, and it left me unsure how to even answer. So, I didn’t. I just finished my spoon. I knew I was different. Always had been, and had always been comfortable with myself. Walking across a packed campus eating a spoon of peanut butter didn’t seem all that strange to me at all. Different? Different than what, I wondered.

“All right, guys, find your seats.” Professor Sentinel stood behind his desk, shuffling papers. He was late thirties, early forties maybe, with long brown hair. He wore glasses and a white button-up long sleeved shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Suddenly, my chin was gently grabbed and Brax pulled my attention to him.

His eyes narrowed in a mock frown. “Okay, Gracie, I don’t wanna catch you cheating off me, you hear?” He glanced down at the syllabus on his desk. “Especially while we’re studying Homer. Got it?” his lips turned up in the corners.

“I’ll do my very best to restrain myself,” I answered. Then, I casually moved my gaze around Brax’s head. The room started filling up fast, but it was one body in particular that I noticed when I scanned the room. He’d just slid into a desk three rows over, and was now deadpan staring at me. My breath lodged in my throat. It was an expression that made my skin turn cold. I felt the blood drain from my face as Kelsy Evans looked first at Brax, then finally toward the front of the room. I eased back in my seat, facing forward, and breathed. God, how could this be? Kelsy in the same class as me? And Brax? Was I being punished for something?

“Hey.”

I turned to Brax and tried not to look as faint as I felt. He rubbed his chin and kept his eyes on mine, the goin inked into his knuckles glaring at me. I could tell in Brax’s expression that I wasn’t fooling him. Not for a second. And before I could even say a single word, his head turned and studied the students in the room. I didn’t think he’d be able to single Kelsy out so fast; he’d only seen him from across the parking lot. Once. But he did. I knew it from the angle of Brax’s head, and from the way his broad shoulders stiffened. Slowly, he turned back to me, shifting his weight, angling his chest, his body toward mine. Almost shielding me from Kelsy.

“Look at me, Gracie,” Brax said. His voice was low, steady, without a trace of humor. Dark brows furrowed over those shocking, now-angry eyes. He drew closer, so only I could hear his words. “I don’t know what happened with you and that prick, but I don’t f**king like the way you go all pale and scared-as-shit looking when he’s around.”

I didn’t say anything, and I focused on his chest instead of his eyes. He rectified that by lifting my chin with his knuckle. Brax ducked his head. “Did he hurt you, Gracie?” His finger grazed my ring. My pledge of virginity. My band of deceit. Between his tender gesture and protective, determined gaze, the fear once more slipped right on out of me. Amazing, really, how he’d managed that with just a few words, a look, and a slight touch. I breathed in, settled my eyes on his, smiled.

And lied.

“No,” I said in a low voice, as believingly as I possibly could. I mean, yes, I felt a connection with Brax. Yes, we’d known each other for a very, very short time, yet he made me comfortable, aware, and disrupted. But no—I was not about to divulge my dirty secrets to him. To no one. Not even Tessa. “I’m just shocked to see him, is all.” Then I straightened, forced my eyes not to drift to Kelsy. “What we had before was just a silly teenaged high school romance. It’s been over for a long time, Brax.”

Brax said nothing. Just stared at me. His eyes didn’t flinch, remaining seared into mine so hard I was positive he could see through the shroud of lies that poured from my mouth. Before he could respond, if he was even going to, the professor began.

“As you can see, you each have your class syllabus in front of you. Follow it. You’re not in high school anymore, guys, and your mommy can’t send you a sick note as an excuse. I expect all homework turned in on the assigned dates. No make up dates for tests. And if you don’t have a composition book, get one. You’ll need to keep a personal log of the class, to be turned in for a grade at the end of the semester. And they’d better be individual.” Professor Sentinel, whose longer hair curled at his shirt collar, grinned as his watchful gaze scanned the class through his rounded wire-framed glasses. “As you can see we begin with good ole Homer’s Iliad. Peel open your text books, girls and boys, and let’s see if we can decipher what the row between King Agamemnon and our poor unfortunate hero, Achilles, and the resulting tragic Graeco-Trojan conflict was all about, eh?”