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“I think four,” I tell her. “It’s a sunset ceremony.”
“It’s going to be beautiful. The weather is gorgeous.”
“The sun tried to blind me this morning,” I say, laughing. “Wanna hit the beach for a bit? Do some work on the board?”
Nola looks at her book and then me. A shy smile creeps across her lips. “What if we take the paddle boards out?”
I nod eagerly because, at this point, any time with her is welcome. My coffee finishes brewing; I grab it, add cream, and take a sip.
“Do you have more studying?”
Nola shrugs. “Not really. I’m reading over past chapters before the exam. I’m nervous.”
“Why? You’ve gotten straight A’s since you enrolled.”
Another shrug. “This final is going to be hard. The professor said no notes, no books.”
“Aren’t all tests like that?” I take another drink, trying to get as much down as I can without burning myself. I wanted to get outside, feel the sand between my toes, and Nola on my board.
Well, she wouldn’t exactly be on my board, but we’d be next to each other.
“Not at all,” she says. “Most of my finals have been open note or open book. Honestly, grad school has been easy.”
“Huh, maybe I should’ve gone.”
Nola rolls her eyes. “You would’ve had to go to college first.”
“Right.”
“It’s not too late, ya know.”
I smirk at her. “It’s too late for me.”
Nola gets up and comes around the island. “Not at all. You can still enroll for the fall semester.”
“I’ll be on tour.” I lean down and kiss her. “Which I’m still hoping you’ll come with me on.”
“You know I want to finish my degree,” she says, backing away from me. “I only have the fall semester left, and then I’m done.”
“Okay.” I don’t want to push her out of fear we’ll end up fighting. I hate fighting with her. It makes me feel like the smallest man ever when I raise my voice at her.
She leans against the counter and bats her eyelashes at me. “I guess it’s a good thing you don’t enroll.”
I laugh, knowing damn well it’s a good thing I’m not going to college, ever. All I’ve ever wanted to do was sit on a stool and strum my guitar. I couldn’t care less about tours, merchandise, meet-and-greets, and everything else that comes with being a musician. But it’s where I’m at now in my life, and at the moment, there isn’t anything I can do to change it.
But I’m curious. “Why’s that?”
She shrugs, then bats her eyelashes at me. “You’d attract all the women looking to make mistakes with the bad boy.”
I try to hide my frown. “I’m not a bad boy, Nola.”
She shrugs. “To me, you are.”
I curl my finger around her ear, pushing her hair back. “If you think I’m a bad boy, then clearly, we’re not spending enough time down on the strip. How often do you see me smoking? Wearing leather? Taking others for rides on my bike?”
“It’s the bike,” Nola says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Whenever someone figures out I’m your girlfriend, they ask about the bike. It’s always the dumb bike.”
“Hey, my bike isn’t dumb. You like it. And you’re not my girlfriend; you’re my fiancée.” I hold up her left hand, where her ring is. “Soon to be my wife.”