Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Ren,” she corrected, trembling inside her bulky coat. It wasn’t so much that he was good-looking—though he was, with shaggy hair he’d tucked behind one ear and strong arms extending from his T-shirt that made Ren think she could put him to great use in the fields. It was the way his warm brown eyes regarded her so steadily from beneath thick, dark brows, like he sensed a secret about her that she didn’t even know yet.
She lifted her chin. “My name is Ren Gylden.”
“Gesundheit,” he quipped.
“It’s Swedish.”
He smiled an indulgent half smile. “Congratulations.”
She held out her gloved hand for him to shake, and, after regarding it in confusion for a bit, he smiled again and shook it gamely. “How do you do?” he said with joking formality. “I’m Fitz.”
“Fitz what?”
“Just Fitz.”
“Well, Just Fitz.” Ren released a laugh at her own joke. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Fitz blinked, looking past her to the door. “So, uh, Sweden. You transferring from somewhere?”
She straightened, having prepared for this. “I’m not a transfer, no.” Her voice came out muffled behind all her layers. “This will be my first experience at a school.”
Fitz’s gaze jerked back to her. “No shit?”
“Uh, yeah. Correct.” Ren’s face flushed at the profanity. She’d read every word in the English language—she’d probably read this specific one in multiple languages, but very rarely heard it said aloud. Even the curse words in her movies at home had been edited out. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to pull it off: “No…shhi—poop.”
Fitz laughed, dropping his gaze to her outfit, drawing attention to the fact that she was still bundled up in her coat, hidden by her hood, wrapped up in a scarf. “You just come in from the Iditarod or something?”
“Idaho, actually.” Ren shoved the hood off, unwound the scarf, and then unzipped the heavy parka, shrugging out of it and the beanie to shake her long braid free. A few loose tendrils remained plastered to her face, and she drew them away with a wet, clammy hand, looking up at him.
When their eyes met, Ren felt suddenly naked at the way his expression had gone blank, at the way he stared directly at her face, finally exposed.
He exhaled a quiet “Oh.”
“What?” She tried to stand as still as she could under his inspection. Fitz dropped his eyes to take in what she was wearing; she’d chosen her favorites from a recent visit to the consignment store—a red-and-green-striped T-shirt and light blue jeans with beautiful pink and yellow hand-embroidered flowers all down the sides. She’d felt good this morning when she’d put it on, but her confidence was ebbing the longer he stared. “What?” she asked again, finally.
He blinked, clearing the surprised blankness, and his face transformed as she watched. One brow raised, his eyes melted, and lips hitched up in a sideways smile. “What are you doing after this?”
Ren blinked, confused. “After—what? The tour?”
“Yeah. Later. I could answer any questions you have down at the Night Owl.” He licked his lips distractingly. Had she ever really noticed a man’s mouth before? Were they all so full and soft? “I happen to know a bartender there: me. He makes great cocktails. We could hang for a bit.”
Confused, Ren narrowed her eyes at him. “Aren’t you already here to answer my questions now?”
“Sure.” He took a step closer, and Ren straightened, suddenly feeling flushed and jittery. “But there’s probably a lot of stuff you’ll think of later, away from campus,” he said, shrugging. “Doesn’t have to be about classes. We could just get to know each other.”
“That’s very nice, but—” She glanced wildly around the atrium, wondering what it was about this moment that made her feel like she was already breaking her parents’ rules. “I’m not actually supposed to go to bars.”
“Don’t worry, Sweden. I could get you in.”
“It’s not that. It’s my parents. They forbid it.”
He reached forward, drawing a long strand of her wet hair through his fingers. “I wouldn’t tell.”
Fitz had a very expressive face, and right now, he was looking at her like a wolf sizing up a lamb. The only other time she’d felt this way before—fevered, heart thrumming, goose bumps down her arms—was when she’d read romance novels, hidden away in a dark corner of the barn or under her favorite tree, far out in the eastern pasture. She’d never felt it in someone else’s presence before. “Yeah, but I would know.”
At these words, his gaze slowly cleared, and he dropped her hair. “Seriously?”
“Seriously what?”
“I’m asking you out for drinks, and it’s—” He waved a hand in front of his own face. “Nothing? Not even a flutter?”
“I don’t know what you mean. Flutter—what?”
Fitz stared at her for a prolonged beat. “This must be an off day for me.” There it was again, the half smile that reminded Ren of a vampire, teasing a glimpse of a single fang. Lifting his chin to the stairs, he said, “Let’s get your schedule printed.”