Page 33 of Guarded Love

"Thank you," I say, and I mean it. "I'll call you later."

After we hang up, I sit in my car for a few more minutes, the heater now blasting too-hot air into my face. My phone screen lights up with another notification. I sigh when it’s a reminder about my deadline for this student housing article.

Reality crashes back in. I still have that article to finish and I need to respond to Blaise’s email.

With a deep breath, I type out a quick reply:

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Interview Request - Senior Hockey Feature

Blaise,

Tomorrow at 3 P.M. works for me. Let's meet inside the library, near the entrance. Then we can see which room is open.

Thanks,

Willow

There, that’s done. Now all I need to do is finish the student housing article tonight and apply for the Puerto Rico trip. It shouldn’t be a long night, but busy enough that it will keep me distracted enough to not think about my interview with Blaise.

At least, that’s what I hoped.

9

BLAISE

Ishow up to the library twenty minutes early.

That is mostly because I finished up a paper I was working on early and didn’t have anything to do in the time I would have had free before I needed to be at the library. It is not because I am trying to impress her. What it does give me is time to get my head on straight about whatever questions she’s going to ask during this interview.

I choose a seat that is near the entrance but just off to the side, giving me the perfect view of her when she arrives. Because I’m sitting in a slightly more secluded corner, it’ll give me an opportunity to look at her, to figure out exactly how irritated she’s going to be with me today because she has to interview me.

I’ve been overthinking this meeting since I got her email, and I wish I’d just shown up for the group interview. Yes, it would have taken some maneuvering because of the group project, but I could have made it work. After all, It would've been easier because the other guys were present to be the buffer between us. Instead, I'm here early, waiting for a one-on-one with the one person on campus who makes me feel like I'm losing mycarefully constructed control every time I’m in the vicinity of her.

I flip open one of my political science books and pretend to read while actually watching the entrance. Three minutes until our scheduled time, and still no sign of her. My leg bounces under the table, a nervous habit I thought I'd kicked years ago.

The door swings open, and I straighten up before I can stop myself. It's just someone with an overloaded backpack. Not her. I exhale slowly and check my phone again. 2:58 P.M.

Maybe she's not coming. Maybe this is her way of getting back at me for missing the group interview. I wouldn't blame her, but Willow's always been professional, even when she's pissed off. Especially when she's pissed off.

Just as I'm considering emailing her, the door opens again, and there she is.

Willow Sanchez, walking into the library like she owns the place, her dark ponytail swinging with each step. She's wearing a coat that’s unzipped and I get a glimpse of a burgundy sweater and black jeans. My eyes reach her boots before jumping back up to her face when I notice she’s scanning the area, looking for me.

I raise my hand slightly, just enough to catch her attention. Our eyes lock, and for a split second, the fire that’s usually in her eyes around me isn’t there. It’s in that moment I know I’m screwed.

Not because she looks good.She does. Obviously.

Not because I’m nervous.I am. Completely.

But because within what feels like a millisecond, the fire returns and her jaw tightens.

I watch her walk over to me, the confidence in her stride betraying nothing of what might be going through her mind. My own thoughts are an absolute mess, but I’ve always known how to hide them. I close my book harder than necessary, and out ofthe corner of my eye I see someone glancing over at me and I’m sure they are annoyed.

"Hey," she says when she reaches me, her voice clipped. No smile, no warmth. Just business.

"Hey," I return, standing up awkwardly before realizing I don't need to. I gesture to the chair across from me. "Thanks for coming."