Emory: Yeah.
Knox: Meet me in the dining hall for some ice cream? I won’t take up much of your time. I just need something sweet.
I scan my outfit of holey sweats and tight-fitting long-sleeved T-shirt. No makeup, hair in a side braid hanging over my shoulder. Not my best day, not my worst. But it’s not like I have to impress him. It’s ice cream.
Emory: As long as you don’t mind hanging out with a girl who wears old, holey sweatpants.
Knox: It’s my preferred attire. I’m headed there now, once I shut my computer. Meet me in five.
Before I can stop myself, I type back.
Emory: See you there.
I exit out of the chat box and squeeze my eyes shut for a second, taking a deep breath. This will be fine, everything is fine. Casual, that’s all this is. Super casual.
I can do casual.
I stand from my chair and look in the mirror, taking in my red holey sweats that hang off my narrow hips.
I was born to do casual.
I lean toward the mirror and smile; nothing in my teeth, that’s a good thing.
I can be the master at casual.
I can teach a class in casual, that’s how freaking casual I am.
I grab my keycard and head out my door past Lindsay and Dottie, who are playing MarioKart in the common area.
“Done studying?” Dottie asks, eyes trained on the TV just as she blows up Lindsay with a bomb.
“You rotten bitch,” Lindsay seethes. “You just can’t stand it when I’m first, can you?”
“Heading out,” I call to them, not wanting to stick around for the trash talk. “I’ll be back in a little.”
“Heads-up, Dad’s sending over Greek tonight,” Dottie calls out before I shut the door to our dorm.
Greek sounds amazing, so I’ll be sure to get a small ice cream. As I make my way down the dorm stairs—we have an elevator but I’m on the third floor so it’s not a big deal to take the stairs—I think about how grateful I am to have Lindsay and Dottie back in my life. Yes, they may push me at times, but it’s out of love. As I look back and consider how isolated I became because of Neil, I’m horrified. It was as though he had . . . emotionally imprisoned me. Thank God my girls never gave up on me.
In my sandals, sweats pushed up to just below my knees, I look like every other college student making their way to the dining hall straight from their dorms. It’s why I don’t feel too out of place meeting Knox in this garb, then again, I’ve seen him almost every Monday in sweats, so I don’t think he’s going to care.
Below the dining hall, there’s a small convenience store that also doubles as an ice cream and smoothie place. I’m assuming this is where Knox meant when he said ice cream, and I guessed right because when I walk through the doors, he’s standing there in a pair of black form-fitting sweatpants, an Under Armour long-sleeved T-shirt that clings to his impressive chest, and his baseball hat on backward. He wears athletic apparel well . . . very well.
When his gaze pulls away from his phone and meets mine, a bright smile stretches across his face. “Hey, Em.” He walks up and pulls me into a hug. Caught a little off guard, I don’t return it right away, but when he squeezes me tighter, I wrap my arms around him, letting my hand land on his muscular back.
Oh my. There’s a whole bunch of hard back there. Neil’s back NEVER felt like that.
“Thanks for meeting up with me.” He pulls away and drags a hand over his face. “I spent the last four hours in the library trying to get this paper done and I’m toasted. Ice cream is the only cure.”
“Are you a big sweets person?” I ask as we walk up to the counter.
“Guilty.” He winks and then looks over the counter and into the cooler. “Can I get cookies and cream in a waffle cone?”
“Sure thing,” the employee says.
“What do you want?” Knox asks, eyeing me.
“I’ll take the strawberry cheesecake in a cake cone.”
“Good choice,” Knox says, reaching for his key card to pay.
Before he can scan it, I block him and say, “I can pay for this one.”
“Nah, my idea, I’m paying.” He scans his card, takes the ice cream for both of us, and heads over to a small table off to the side. When we take a seat, he hands me my cone, but not before taking a bite out of it.
When my mouth falls open in shock, he chuckles and says, “Just a friendly tax.”
I point at his cone. “I want a bite.”
“What? No way.” He shields his cone away from me.
“Knox Gentry, it’s only fair.”
“You’re going to take a giant bite. I need this ice cream more than you.”
I wiggle my finger at him. “Bring it over here. It’s only fair.”
He studies me. “How about this, a bite for your phone number.”
“Ha, nice try.” I shake my head and lean back. “I’m not that desperate for a taste, which can I say, it didn’t slip past me that you got cookies and cream. Are you obsessed with everything Oreos?”
“If you didn’t order the donuts from Frankie’s, I would have gotten the Oreo-encrusted donut.” He takes a lick of his ice cream. “I’m an Oreo lover and will eat them with pretty much everything. You know how some people are obsessed with peanut butter and will even eat it on their burgers? That’s my loyalty with Oreos.”
“That’s kind of . . .”
“Freaky?”
I chuckle and shake my head. “No, I was going to say cute.”
His brows raise. “Yeah, well then, should I tell you I made an Oreo-encrusted steak the other night?”
I motion my hand to tamp him down. “Baby steps, Knox, don’t show me all your freak tendencies just yet.”
He holds his arms out wide. “I’m an open book to you, Em, and what you see is what you get.”
“Should I be scared?”
He leans forward. “Maybe a little.” His smile pretty much destroys any defenses I tried to wear on the way down here. He’s entirely too charming and sweet, then again, so was Neil. It’s the charismatic personalities I need to be cautious around. “I like your sweats by the way, super sexy.”
“It’s the holes, right? Sexy in a way you never thought possible.”
“They’re tempting for sure.”
I cross my legs and say, “I’ve had them since middle school. I can’t seem to ditch them no matter how many holes they have in them. It seems after each laundry cycle, they become more and more comfortable. They’re like a safety blanket at this point.”
“Don’t ever get rid of them.” He takes a bite out of his ice cream and leans back in his chair, observing me. “I like this side of you.”
“What side is that?”
“Casual, not all dressed up. Don’t get me wrong, your skirts have a good hold on my balls, but I like the comfy side of you. Makes me want to take you up to your dorm and cuddle you.”
“Is that supposed to be a pickup line?”
“No.” He pauses. “But if it was, did it work?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“No,” I lie because the thought of taking Knox back to my dorm to cuddle sounds incredibly appealing.
He’s a large guy, broad shoulders with thick muscles wrapped around them, tall, must be at least six two, which is a good height for his sport, and his arms look like cannons, ripped and carved unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I can’t imagine he looked like this in high school, but a few years under Coach Disik’s tutelage and the once boy is a lean and powerful machine.
The way he shifts and the tightness of his shirt, I catch glimpses of the six-pack that’s beneath the neoprene fabric of his shirt. And I shouldn’t forget to mention the slight bulge I always see when he’s wearing sweatpants. He’s big. His hands, his legs, his shoulders, wide and broad, and if he wasn’t so nice, I’d be intimidated by his sharp features and mesmerizing eyes that always hide under the bill of a hat.
“Have you always been a ball-buster, Em?”
“Not
always,” I answer honestly. “Took me a while to find enough courage to show my true self around guys.”
“Really? Were you demure and quiet?”
“Pretty much.” I take a big lick of my ice cream. “I was shy growing up, but it wasn’t until college I actually let my true colors show. I think it was one of the things my ex started to really dislike about me. Probably what drove him away. He hated my jokes, my teasing, my outspokenness around his friends.” I twist my lips to the side. “Now that I think about it, he would always reprimand me after, telling me not to talk to his friends like that.”
“Sounds like your ex was a real dick.”
“He wasn’t at first. He kind of swept me off my feet in high school. Very charming, friends with everyone, took me under his wing and challenged me to break out of my shell.” I glance up. “Kind of like you.”
His brows draw together, and I can tell he didn’t like that comment at all, but I think it’s fair for him to know where my apprehension is.
“I’m not like him, Em.”
“You don’t know him.”
He sits taller in his chair. “And you don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”
“I don’t.” I hang my head, feeling a little guilty.
“Then get to know me.” He leans over and lifts my chin. “Like I said, I’m an open book, Em.”
Instead of anger, all I see is kindness, understanding, and if that’s not my undoing, it’s the smile that trails after.
Whispering, he continues, “Ask me anything.”
I bite my bottom lip, trying to figure out what I should ask. What do I want to know?
“Don’t be shy,” he adds, casually draping his arm over the back of his chair. “I’ll answer anything.”
Honesty. If there is one trait I see in Knox, it’s honesty. He knows how attractive he is, that eyes follow him when he enters any room. Yet he doesn’t look for that attention. He’s not exactly humble, but he is . . . unassuming. When Neil walked into a room, it was with attention-seeking noise. As if everyone in the room was much better because of his presence. Asshole. As much as I hate comparing the two, Neil had been the man in my life for too long not to. Until he wasn’t.
And now there’s Knox, a naturally charismatic, driven male, who’s made more effort for me to notice him. So perhaps . . .
“Okay,” I say. “Why are you so interested in me?”
“Because anyone who slaps me with a campus map in the face is someone I want to get to know.”
“And here I thought you would say anyone who has a boob that can make me pass out is someone I want to get to know.”
He chuckles. “The heaviness of said tit was just too overwhelming, and I had no choice but to take a nap mid lift.”
“They’re not that heavy.”
“I can’t remember. Here, let me reacquaint myself.” He reaches his hand out, but I playfully slap it away.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“In a good way.” He pops the rest of his ice cream in his mouth and wipes his hands with a napkin while I finish my ice cream as well.
“Be serious, why are you interested in me?”
He shifts in his seat, striking a very relaxed pose. “Fishing for compliments, Ealson?”
“No, just wondering why you’re after me when you could have any girl on campus.”
“Is it too far-fetched to say that you interest me? Do I need a specific reason drummed up in a romantic fashion, written on cream paper in calligraphy and in the form of poetry?”
“No, smart-ass.” I laugh. “But I don’t consider myself particularly special.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong. You’re all kinds of special, and I intend on showing you that.”
“You really think you can win me over?”
He drums his knuckles on the metal table between us. “I know I can win you over. It’s just a matter of time.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “We’ll see about that.”
“Is that a challenge, Ealson?”
“It very well might be,” I counter.
He reaches across the table, extending his hand out for me to take. “Then challenge accepted.”
Because I like to give in to his antics, I take his hand in mine and shake on it, knowing his satisfied, gorgeous smile is what I’ll remember as I fall asleep tonight.
Chapter Twelve
EMORY
I challenged Knox on Thursday night, or did he challenge me? I don’t know, but there was a challenge set and now it’s Monday.
I haven’t heard a word from him.
Not even a peep.
There was no party at the loft, which meant the girls and I took a trip north, stayed at a bed and breakfast, courtesy of Dottie’s dad, and studied in the sanctuary of the woods. It was wonderfully refreshing and energizing, but when I returned late Sunday night and still didn’t hear anything from Knox, I shrugged my shoulders, attempting to ignore my sense of disappointment. Another man who is all talk. I was surprised, especially as I considered his sincerity in his words. “I’m not like him, Em . . . you don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”
Oh well, it’s nothing I should be wasting time thinking about.
Morning coffee in hand, I make my way to class, keeping a watchful eye out for Knox, but I don’t run into him before class, nor do I see him or the boys when I enter our lecture room.
And just like that, worry sets in. Did they go out of town and I didn’t know? Should I check their fall schedule?
Did the loft burn down? Is that why there wasn’t a party? I mean if there was a fire, I feel like that would have been in the news.
Am I overreacting?
Feeling a little uneasy, I take a seat in the row we usually all sit in and nervously remove my laptop and set my backpack by my feet. Now I kind of wish I’d asked Knox for his number. A friendly text of do you want me to save you a seat? would have been nice right about now.
Even though I don’t need to use it since I type notes, I take out a pen from my backpack and start tapping the desk with it. Stop fidgeting, Ealson.
Five minutes until class starts, they never push it this close, especially since Knox likes to have little chats before class starts, and then he continues those chats on his computer next to me.
I glance around the room, and that’s when I notice everyone is sitting at the very front of the class, the first two rows. I sit up in my seat. Am I missing something?
No one is talking, and you could hear a pin drop it’s so quiet, and everyone is facing the front of the room, heads straight forward, motionless.
What the hell is—
My Girl starts playing through a phone speaker out of nowhere right before the door to the lecture room bursts open at the top, startling the crap out of me. I glance to the side to find Holt and Carson smoothly dancing down the stairs wearing their matching sweatshirts and holding coffee and boxes of donuts.
What in the world?
Trailing behind them, Knox, decked out in jeans, a button-up and tie, with his signature backward hat follows closely behind, holding a bouquet of . . . are those campus maps cut into flowers?
Oh.
My.
God.
Holt walks to the row below mine as Carson walks down the row behind me, singing loudly while the class turns around and unfolds a banner, just as Knox makes his way toward me a huge smile on his face as he belts out the song. When the chorus rings through the room, the class breaks out in song and flips up a huge banner that says, “Say yes.”
Say yes to what?
Oh good Lord.
I think he’s taken this challenge a little too seriously.
Knox slides to his knees in front of me and the music dies out as he holds up the makeshift bouquet to me, that handsome smile caressing his face. I push my hand over my eyes briefly, my cheeks flaming, and my nerves causing my body to shake.
Everyone is quiet as Knox speaks up. “Emory Edith Ealson
.” I cringe, that is not my middle name. “Will you do me the great honor”—he pretends to wipe a tear from under his eye—“of being my seat mate for the rest of the semester?”
The class collectively “awws” and awaits my answer.
One girl shouts, “Say yes.”
While a guy bellows, “You’re the man, Gentry.”
Of course, he got the whole class involved, this is Knox Gentry.
This is so ridiculous and unnecessary, but I get caught up in the whirlwind and nod like an idiot.
Standing, chest proudly puffed, Knox raises his fist to the air and screams, “She said yes.”
The class cheers. Holt and Carson start handing out coffee and donuts in celebration just as our professor walks through the door, caught off guard by the raucous behavior of the class.
“Settle down,” he shouts, causing everyone to take their seats, including Knox, who sits right next to me and drapes his arm over the back of my chair.
He casually reaches up and starts twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. It’s intimate, something Neil never did, and I like it. Maybe a little too much.
Class gets underway and Holt hands Knox his computer. He opens it with one hand and starts typing out a note for me.
Thank you for saying yes. That would have been embarrassing as shit if you said no.
I snort and cover my mouth, imagining Knox’s face if I had said no. I never could have done that. I like to joke around with him, but that would have been mean, especially since he went through a lot this morning to put on a show.
I type him back a response.
That was a little extravagant, don’t you think?
From the corner of my eye, I catch a smile pulling at his lips.
He types back.
Nothing is too extravagant for you, babe. This is only the beginning.
Oh God, why does that worry and excite me all at the same time?
* * *
“Can you put all those books away?” Mrs. Flower asks. “I’m going to my office so if you need anything, figure it out because I don’t want to be bothered.”
The Locker Room Page 9
