Page 17

17

Phoenix

S ee you next week, Phoenix," my friend tells me as she heads for her next class.

"Bye, Kat," I reply, ducking into the library.

I've settled in amazingly so far and met a ton of new people at school. It's the kind of normalcy I didn't realize I was missing for so long. I lost touch with a lot of friends after Mom got sick, and all my time went into taking care of her. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to have friends.

Meeting Kat changed that. She was the first girl I met when I started my classes. When she plopped down next to me in Introduction to Psychology, we bonded over back-to-school jitters and a shared caffeine addiction. Now, we're attached at the hip.

Kat's one of the few I've actually opened up to about my mom. She gets it. Her dad passed away a few years ago, so we have that in common, morbid as it may be. Talking to her about it has helped. She's been where I am and knows how hard it is. She knows the time it takes to heal from that kind of loss. It's one of the reasons I'm so grateful to have her.

I head upstairs to find a quiet nook in the back of the library where I can do some homework before my next class. I'm nearly done when I sense something eerie. It's that same feeling I got in the parking lot when I was paranoid that someone was watching me.

I turn to see what's got my senses on high alert. That's when I spot him—the man I saw in the parking lot the other day. He's perched in an armchair fifteen feet away with his eyes trained on me. This close, I can tell he's about my age, probably another student, but there's something about him that makes me wary. My stomach drops, and I get the urge to run.

As if sensing it, he starts to move before I get the chance. I'm frozen in place, unsure what to do as he comes closer.

Five feet away.

I should run, but my feet feel like they're cased in concrete. I should scream, but my throat is bone dry. No sound is coming from my mouth. I can't speak. I can't scream.

Three feet away.

Do something!

I'm panicking, too afraid to make a move.

Two feet.

The warning blares in my head, Phoenix! Move! Now!

He's right next to me before I can do anything, and as I gape at him, trying to force down my fear, he speaks. "Hello. You're Phoenix, right?" A slow smile spreads across his face.

My heart is pounding as I find my voice. "H—how did you know that?" I ask. My words shake as I barely muster up more than a whisper.

He grimaces as he runs a hand through his hair, looking almost embarrassed. "Shit. I'm sorry. That probably sounds so creepy. I'm Martin." He holds out his hand to me.

When I say nothing and awkwardly stare at his hand, he continues, lowering his arm to his side. "Uh, sorry for freaking you out. Today and the other day in the lot. It's just . . . I've seen you around campus, and I asked a few of my friends about you. They know some of your friends—that's how I got your name." He stumbles through his explanation, looking embarrassed.

"Okayyy," I drawl, trying to calm my erratic heart as he keeps talking.

"God, I've messed this all up," he says nervously, running a hand through his dark brown hair. "I thought you were gorgeous, and I didn't see you around until this semester. I wanted to introduce myself the other day but chickened out. I probably just freaked you out by gawking at you like a lunatic." He huffs out a sigh, and I see his cheeks pinken.

My mind is racing as I try to piece together all the information he's unloaded on me. "You were trying to work up the nerve to say hello?"

Martin's shoulders relax, and he smiles widely at me. "Yes. I'm awful at this." He scratches his jaw anxiously. "But you can probably tell that already."

He looks so shy. I almost feel bad for assuming the worst the other day when I sped off. It's odd, though. Guys who look like him—tall, built, attractive, mysterious—usually aren't this awkward around women, but who am I to judge?

As my weariness from earlier starts to ease a bit, I can't help the pitying feeling that seeps into my bones. The rational part of my brain tells me to stay alert. I don't know this guy and what he may be capable of. What if my knee-jerk reaction was right? What if he is a creep?

I take him in, assessing his threat level. His outfit is unassuming—jeans, a t-shirt with the college logo, and a worn pair of Vans. Pair that with his boyish face and bashful demeanor, and he doesn't look nearly as intimidating as I thought from afar.

Now that I've seen him up close, I can tell he's nervous. Really nervous. It looks like it took everything he had to muster up the courage to come talk to me. The least I can do is be polite. "Uh, no. It's okay, Martin. I just wish you said something the other day. Sorry, I freaked out on you there. It's been a weird couple of weeks for me."

His eyes widen as if he's stunned I replied to him. He quickly recovers, clearing his throat. "I wish I'd had the courage that day."

After a beat, he continues, sliding into the empty seat next to me. "How about we start over? I'm Martin," he says again, holding out his hand. This time, more confidently.

I can't help but chuckle as I hold out my own. "Nice to meet you, Martin. I'm Phoenix."

His brown eyes light up, and a boyish smile brightens his features. "Pleasure to meet you, Phoenix."

The tension between Martin and me dissipates the longer we chat. The more we talk, the less nervous he becomes. He tells me about his program and how long he's lived in the area. He asks how I like my classes so far and makes me laugh as he shares funny stories about some of the professors.

My alarm buzzes, letting me know it's almost time for my next class. I gather my things and tell Martin goodbye, but as I go to leave, he stops me. "Let me take you out sometime," he says in a rush as I stand to leave.

I turn, seeing a hopeful expression on his face. "Uh, I can't. I'm sorry."

He slides his hands into his pockets, sagging his shoulders. "Right. Yeah, you've probably got a boyfriend, huh," he says, sounding dejected.

My mind immediately flashes to Raptor and my answer is on my tongue before I know it. "Yeah, I do."

"Ah," he says, looking at his feet. "What's his name?"

I quirk an eyebrow at him, and he laughs lightly. "Sorry. I don't mean to pry. I'm only curious about the guy lucky enough to win you over."

I nearly tell him Raptor but correct myself. There's no way he'd believe I was dating a guy who calls himself 'Raptor'. "His name is Mason."

Martin nods. "Well, Mason's a lucky guy."

"Thanks," I tell him, turning to head toward the exit. "Take care, Martin."

"See you around, Phoenix. I hope."

I give him a smile and a short wave as I head to my next class, wondering why the fib I told doesn't feel like such a lie. Raptor . . . my boyfriend. Wouldn't that be something?