Page 45

IAN

SEPTEMBER

“Dude, hurry up!”

Nick is not about to make me late for class, so I knock on his door for a third time. After an excruciating thirty-second wait, the lock clicks and he lets me in. He’s still in sweatpants and a loose tank top, which tells me he only woke up because I’m persistent.

I check my phone for the time, and when my attention goes back to Nick, he’s lying on the couch, stretching his arms up like nothing in life matters.

“Not to be a douche or anything, but are you gonna get ready?” I ask. “You’re the one who asked me to walk with you in the first place.”

He groans, reaching for a hockey team hoodie and slipping it over his head. “Didn’t the last two semesters teach you that first classes don’t matter? It’s called syllabus week for a reason.”

“Yeah, but I want to get into a good routine from the start.”

“Whatever. I need coffee,” he mumbles, and I place a thermos on his dining table.

“Here. Remember our deal? I make you coffee and you don’t make me late. Let’s go.”

“Okay, okay. I’m ready now.”

I point at his bare feet. “Are you?”

He looks down, grits his teeth, and proceeds to wrangle up a pair of jeans, fresh underwear, and some socks from the laundry pile next to the dining table.

And then the shameless, not-so-little fucker gets changed right in front of me.

“Jeez, put your dick away—you know what? I don’t care. Just hurry up. I don’t want to miss the stupid surprise clicker question if the prof springs one on us.”

Nick finishes putting his socks on, slips into sneakers, and grabs the flask of coffee. “Course registration ends next week. Again, the first one doesn’t matter. Let’s head out.”

I follow him out of the apartment and onto the sidewalk.

Nick is the kind of person who’s smart without even trying.

As for me? While I’ve never come close to missing the GPA cutoff to stay on the baseball team here, it’s because I stay on top of things.

That includes making it to class on time and putting in the work.

But I’m only human, which is why I agree to sit in the back of the lecture hall when we arrive five minutes early for Human Movement II. We get the same slides and the same monotonous lecture, no matter where you are in the room.

The half-empty room fills up as we get closer to eleven, and it’s the usual group of familiar faces. Kinesiology is a tiny program here at WMU and we all know each other, or at least know of each other. New people stand out.

And the new person who walks into the lecture hall stands out for a lot of other reasons.

Hot fucking damn.

Tall, chiseled features, and he’s built like an athlete, which isn’t uncommon given what we’re studying.

Powerful legs, clad in light-wash jeans, bring the mystery man a few rows forward from us where he settles into a seat in the middle.

With his back to us, I can only catch a glimpse of his short brown hair and his impressive frame.

If the shirt he was wearing didn’t fit so well, I’d say it was one size too small, but with his broad shoulders sticking out the way that they are, I’m not complaining.

Nick elbows me and I turn to face him. “Stop staring,” he says, his mouth curving up into a knowing smirk.

“At what?”

“At him.” Nick nods at the new guy. “I didn’t even notice him until I saw you making heart eyes. Try some subtlety for once.”

“Why are you blaming me? He looks like he rolled out of bed and straight into an L.L.Bean catalog.”

“And that’s supposed to be appealing?”

“Yes. It is.” I sigh, admiring the way the new guy’s body twitches as he scribbles in his notebook. “You’d understand if your type wasn’t so elusive.”

Nick snorts, and the lecture gets started. I dragged my ass all the way here, so I might as well try to pay attention. I steal a few glances at him here and there, but I survive. Yeah, I’m shameless, but the new guy is so damn cute.

Maybe I’ll call him Mr. Flannel since I don’t know his name, and his shirt is what catches my eye every time.

Mr. Flannel is very straight-looking. I know that’s not a thing , but making these assumptions makes it easier for me to avoid stupid crushes. It’s a tactic that dates to high school—one that kept me out of trouble back then, and one that keeps me focused on this hour-long lecture today.

After Dr. Kumar wraps up with an overview of the group project, I stand up and head for the exit, but Nick grabs my shoulder to stop me.

“Hey, why don’t you talk to the new guy?” he asks. “You might stop staring at him if you get to know him as a person.”

I blink at him a couple of times. “Nah. Not trying to get all flustered this early in the day.” Which is true—attractive men make me forget how to speak English, and I don’t have any other languages to fall back on.

Nick rolls his eyes. “Come on. I think I’ll put you out of your misery and go introduce us.”

“Dude, don’t do that to me.”

“Watch me.”

Oh, come on.

Nick doesn’t say anything else, and I can only follow him for the short, awkward walk to the front.

“Hey!” Nick waves and Mr. Flannel jerks his head up, shoving his phone in his pocket. “I’m Nick, you new here?”

“Hi, yeah. I’m Callum.” His face tenses up as his blue eyes flick between us with some kind of guarded suspicion.

Okay. Yeah. I need to introduce myself and do something other than stare at?—

Sheesh. Callum’s eyes are so fucking blue.

Nope. Gotta stay focused.

“And hi, I’m Ian. Nice to meet you.” I stick my hand out like the business major I’m not, and Callum gives me a shake that’s firm yet warm.

How in the hell is it possible for someone’s hands to feel rugged and soft? That shouldn’t be allowed.

“So, uh, how are you new here?” I ask, both because I’m curious, and also to make it known that I do indeed have a voice. Even if said voice conjures up the strangest phrasing my poor, scattered brain can think of.

“I transferred in from community college in Wisconsin.”

“Nice, nice.” I fall silent, and Nick elbows me. I don’t want to know what he’s up to.

“Welcome to WMU, man. Now that we’ve got you here, do you want to join us for that group project? Ian and I are down a guy.”

For some reason or other, Callum is backing himself into the wall, and I’m not sure if he realizes. I fight the urge to close the growing distance between us so that I don’t encroach on him.

But then Callum nods. “Sure, that sounds good. Thanks for the offer.”

Nick gives him a fist bump, I do the same, and yeah, I should probably say something now.

“You play baseball?” I ask Callum.

He furrows his dark eyebrows, which throws me off-balance even more than my random comment. “No?”

“You should try out next month,” I find myself saying. “You have serious guns right there and the team is down a few strong hitters.”

Oh my fucking god.

Why the ever-loving hell did I have to say that?

Maybe I should have stayed shut up before making a fool of myself. Nick is red in the face, stifling a laugh with a series of unconvincing fake coughs, and I will the earth to swallow me whole.

“Nah, I don’t think I’d be any good at sports.” Callum’s tone is a deadpan, but the tiniest hint of a smile materializes around his full lips. It’s weak, but the effect that smile has on me? Outsized. My hands were already sweating when Nick dragged me over, but now they’re drenched.

My voice comes out way higher than I’d like. “That’s cool, no problem.”

Callum shifts from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah, so, it was great talking to you guys, but I have to get to my next class,” he says before spinning around and marching out of the lecture hall.

Someone kill me now, please.

“That didn’t go bad, did it?” Nick says, his eyes watering.

I sigh. “He hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t. Besides, you gave him a flirty little compliment! How could he hate you after that?”

Heat creeps up my neck, and I resist the urge to smack Nick across the chest. “I’m a fucking idiot,” I mutter.

“Nah,” he says. “You just get flustered around attractive dudes. How are you so smooth with chicks but so inept around the guys you’re into? Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?”

“Dudes are intimidating, man.”

“Or maybe you have a type.”

Tall, attractive, unavailable men? It’s possible.

“Anyway.” Nick breaks the silence. “He’s working on the group project with us, so try to avoid jumping him when we meet up for that.”

“Because I need the reminder, of course. No. I’m more than capable of behaving myself.” Rolling my eyes, I leave the lecture hall with Nick in tow.

I am capable of behaving myself. My initial interactions with cute guys always play out the same way: I get a little crush on them for a day, and then my mind goes elsewhere.

Sure, I give myself more than a day if it’s mutual, but that hasn’t been the case for a while. I can be a lot, I hate rejection, and avoiding that is what’s most comfortable for me.

Callum can have the next twenty-four hours. Then, if everything goes to plan, we might be friends.