Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“What’s the plan?” I whisper as I slide up next to him.
“We need a meet cute.”
I glance at him in surprise, roaming over his chiseled cheekbones, the proud line of his forehead, the Roman nose, his broad shoulders—
Another memory resurfaces, clawing to the top. “You like meet cutes?”
“No. I’m a dude. But we want to make an impression. Make him remember you, maybe something funny.”
“Huh. My meet cute with Donovan was different. Did you have anything to do with it?”
“No.”
“Your eye twitched,” I whisper. “Did you have a hand in writing my note?”
He starts, his eyes searching mine. Five seconds tick by as our gazes cling.
“I didn’t.”
I make a hmmm noise and think back to the letter, currently tucked in my bedside drawer along with cards Donovan sent me. I haven’t had time to burn them. Yet.
At the beginning of it, there’s a quote from Gone with the Wind, and River said that was his mom’s favorite movie—
He waves his hands in my face. “Are you ready?”
I sigh. “No, they’re engrossed in a discussion about hydrogen atoms. It sounds super boring. Maybe we should abort.”
“But he’s smart,” he mutters. “He checks your boxes.”
I glance away from River to the guy in question. Nice teeth, nice hair, nice stuff. He’s no River, but who is?
“Had a ‘smart guy’ before.” I use air quotes. “And, as you know, that didn’t turn out so great. Maybe I need to hop in my car, drive down to the local MC bar, pick up a biker, post some pics, and call it a day.”
“There are no MC clubs in Walker.”
“Too bad,” I say.
He rocks on his heels as we linger behind a rack of magazines. Honestly, I could just stand right here all night, basking in River’s electricity—
“But duty calls,” I mutter.
He mulls something over. “I have an idea, and you won’t need me for this. Just walk past him, drop your pen next to his chair, stop, look around, and wait for him to get a look at you, then boom, he’ll see you, rush to help you—”
My chest expands. “Wow. This sounds suspiciously familiar to how you met me. Was that all a ploy to talk to me?”
“No.”
“Eye twitch,” I mutter.
He turns away, not looking at me. He frowns, his jaw popping.
I huff and glance away. What’s up with him?
I push it aside and look at Kian.
Now that it’s time to meet this guy, I just…
Don’t. Want. To.
My get-up-and-go has gone.
I shrug, itching to extricate myself from this situation and go back to our table. Anxiousness washes over me. “I don’t have a pen in my purse. Left my stuff back at the table.”
River lets out an exhalation. “I could play ‘Apple Bottom Jeans’ on my phone and you could break out in dance.”
“Funny.” My tone is low and unfocused. My head is hung up on the earlier question about how we met and the note. There was a definite eye twitch. Did he lie to me? Why would he lie?
I’m distracted from my thoughts when he reaches for me, his fingers going to my earlobe, a soft touch, as he removes the dangly gold earring then places it in my palm. “Here. Drop this.”
My hands tighten around the piece of jewelry. “What happened to you introducing us?”
His jaw tightens, a closed-off look on his face. “You try on your own first.”
I swallow thickly. He wants no part of introducing me to Kian…
“Why?”
“I’d rather not.”
I could argue with him. This was the deal, but his face looks almost pained.
I blink and look away.
Fine.
I suck in my resolve.
Am I this awkward around the opposite sex? No, yet the stakes feel high and there’s a strange, hollow feeling in my stomach that has nada to do with Kian.
“Locked and loaded.” I flip around and walk toward the table of three guys. I recognize their faces from campus and parties. Their heads are lowered as they discuss science things.
Kian says, “…obtained the energy levels and spectral frequencies of the hydrogen atom after making a number of simple assumptions in order to correct the failed classical model…”
I stop next to him and drop the earring as slyly as I can—which is to say, not very. The gold hoop—geeze, it’s huge—bounces off the floor, sails a foot away, and pings into a metal bookshelf, then a student walks by and kicks it underneath. A shimmer of gold peeks out.
That was crazy, and not one male at the table noticed.
“The assumptions included…” Kian stops and glances up when I clear my throat. His forehead furrows. “Hi?”
I bite my lip. What to say, what to say…
The other guys raise their faces from their laptops and stare at me.
“You need something?” Kian asks.
Here’s the part where I’m supposed to say something super witty, but…
“I lost my earring. Somewhere around here, I think?” I say weakly, keeping my eyes on his face and not on the bookshelf where said jewelry is currently hiding.