Blissful Valentine: A Novella

by Amy L. Gale

  My fingers throb from the warm air’s contact with my freezing skin. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, taking in the scent of fresh falling snow with a slight fragrance of musky cologne.

  Dean lowers our hands. His eyes lock with mine. “Better get you home before you turn into a block of ice.”

  I nod slowly, mesmerized by his stare. I take a step back and pull my hands away. “I’m around the corner, second house on the right.”

  We walk side by side through the winter wonderland of dancing snow flurries and gray clouds. Even though my fingers are throbbing and my toes numb, I trudge slowly as if I’m in no hurry to get home or to leave Dean.

  Dammit. This is the whole reason I avoid frat parties. Besides getting drugged and waking up in a guy’s bed I hardly know like some whore, now I don’t want him to leave. It’s like I regressed two years overnight. Thought I was done with drunken parties and random hookups after I grabbed my diploma and practically ran off the stage at Mountain View High’s graduation. No need to gain the reputation of desperate easy party girl again. Heat creeps across my face.

  I stop at the bottom of the driveway and glance over my shoulder at the cozy little Cape Cod house. I turn back toward Dean. “This is me.”

  His eyes shift from the black pavement to the top of the roof, and then lock onto me. He shuffles his foot along the driveway, kicking a few loose pebbles underneath the light coating of snow.

  “Nice place.” He bites at his lip. “Rule number four: Always walk a beautiful woman to her door.” He holds out his hand.

  I giggle and slide my hand into his, trying to suppress the smile frozen onto my face. I tilt my head and lower my eyebrows. “And where do these rules come from?”

  He cracks a half-smile. “Secrets of the Brotherhood.” He winks.

  We proceed up the driveway, hand in hand, leaving a trail of footprints in the snow. My heels stomp against the concrete steps, knocking off the excess snow. We walk to the edge of my door adorned with the winter wreath Lexie and I made last week.

  He turns toward me and rubs his thumb along my fingers. My body trembles despite a wave of heat passing through it. I take a deep breath, trying to control my pounding heart. He lifts my hand up to his mouth and places a soft kiss above my knuckles.

  “See you on campus, wingman.” He drops my hand and takes a step back. “We’re gonna turn this town upside down.” He waggles his eyebrows and hops down the steps.

  I let out the deep breath I didn’t even know I was holding, and lean against the railing. My weak knees are barely able to hold me up.

  Dean looks back over his shoulder and nods his head right before he turns the corner. I dig in my pocket for my keys, jingling them until I untangle the house key from the rest. I slide the key into the lock and step inside, quietly pushing the door shut. I close my eyes and lean my back against the door, an ear to ear smile plastered on my face. My heart flutters.

  “Whoa, must’ve been some breakfast,” Lexie says with rolling eyes, digging her spoon in a bowl of cereal and shoveling a huge bite into her mouth.

  I shake my head and compose myself. Guess she wants to know what went down last night. My muscles relax and all the energy surging through my body dissipates.

  She points her spoon at me as she crunches a mouthful of cereal. “I want details.”

  I toss my keys on the counter and slide off my boots. “I promise, lots of gory details. But first I need a shower.”

  “Hmm, gore and you need a shower. Can’t wait to hear this.” Lexie chuckles, sipping her juice.

  I shuffle through the kitchen and head to the bathroom. Like any shower can invigorate me more that Dean just did. I turn on the water and breathe in the steam. I close my eyes and step into the shower, reliving the highlight of last night in a few seconds. So, I guess I’ve found myself a wingman that I didn’t even now I wanted. Or did I sign up for something more?

  CHAPTER 3—TUTOR

  My eyes peruse the thick red letters stained on the top of the page like blood left over from a slaughter. I lower my head and sigh. Dammit, a 72. First physics test of the semester and I’m already a C student. I’ve got to nip this in the bud before it threatens my scholarship. I pop a mint in my mouth, trying to suppress the sudden onset of nausea overcoming my body. Dr. Jenners starts his lecture, reiterating the importance of the laws of movement.

  I nibble at my fingernails and wait for everyone in the class to gather their belongings and head out of the mammoth room. Dr. Jenners leafs through a folder as the chaos calms to chatter. At least he’s easy on the eyes. Dark brown hair tinged with a few lighter strands, and an athletic body. Not what you’d expect a physics professor to look like. If his willingness to help students is as good as his looks I might have a shot of passing this class.

  I shove my folders and notebooks into my backpack and slide out of my seat. Clutching the strap of my pink backpack with clammy hands, I approach him.

  He looks up from his folder and tosses it on his desk. “What can I do for you?” He folds his arms across his chest, accentuating an array of muscles.

  A bead of sweat forms along my hairline. “I had a little trouble with my first test. I’ve got this scholarship and I need a 3.5 GPA to keep it. Is there any way I can bring my grade up? Maybe extra credit or something?”

  He nods and rummages through some sheets of paper scattered across his desk. “There’s a tutoring program sponsored by the student union. Some of my top students from last semester are involved. I recommend you take advantage of the service, it’s free.”

  I glance over the paper down to the physics section. Tuesday night in the Smithfield Hall from six to nine p.m. Perfect. “Thank you, I’ll be there.”

  He smiles. “Don’t sweat it yet. There’s still time to bring up that grade. I think the tutoring will do the trick.” He takes the manila folder he’s been leafing through from his desk and peruses the papers.

  I flash a quick smile and turn away, hopping up the steps to the exit. So I guess there’s still hope. Maybe if I get to the tutoring session early enough I can pick the Stephen Hawking of the group to work his magic on me.

  I glance at my watch. Almost time to meet Lexie for lunch. I zip up my jacket, pull on my gloves, and push open the heavy door. A gust of frigid wind whips my hair along my cheeks and sends a multitude of snow flurries rushing into my face. I close my eyes, grip my backpack tight, and trudge forward as if I’m taking on a blizzard in the frozen tundra. The cold wind burns my cheeks. Just a few more feet and I’m at the dining hall.

  I open my eyes for a split second but it’s too late. A wall of pure muscle slams into me like a ton of bricks. I fall backwards, my hands flailing in the air for a few seconds before my butt smacks into the hard concrete sidewalk. My backpack flies into a mound of snow and slowly slides down the icy surface to the frozen ground. I blink a few times and try and focus on the face hovering above me.

  “You okay?” Dean holds out his hand.

  You’ve got to be kidding me. Heat spreads across my face like wildfire. First the physics test, now this. Do I dare ask what else is in store for me today? I prop myself to a sitting position and take his hand. He pulls me to my feet with one swoop.

  “Come on, I can’t let my wingman freeze.” He grabs my backpack from the snowy mound and guides me forward, holding open the door to the dining hall.

  I look up at him and lose myself for a minute in his deep blue eyes. The chill miraculously leaves my body. Amazing, how could I have possibly not noticed him first semester? An elbow grazes me as a girl sprints toward the dining hall. I flinch and knock myself back into reality. Yeah, probably because I was studying all last semester, instead of allowing distractions to make me lose my focus. Maybe I should follow my own advice.

  I fling my backpack over my shoulder and head into the dining hall. I sniffle and tuck a few damp strands of my hair behind my ear. “Sorry, blinded by snowflakes.”

  He pulls off his stocking cap and tousles his ha
ir into a perfect mess. “Ah, happens to all the beach girls.” He shakes a few snowflakes off his hat. “Lunch is on me. Least I can do after almost plowing you into a snow bank.”

  I bite my lip. “Let me guess. It’s an unwritten rule that all fraternity brothers have to buy a girl lunch after they almost plow her into a snow bank?”

  He chuckles. “No, but it should be.” He takes a step forward and gestures for me to follow.

  Crap, Lexie’s waiting for me. I reach out and grab his arm. My hand barely gets around a quarter of his hard bicep. A surge of electricity flows through me. Holly hell, he gets more impressive by the second. “Can’t today. Rain check?”

  He nods. “It’s a date.” He winks and takes off down the hallway.

  Wait. I never agreed to a date. My body heat rises a few more degrees, flushing my face. We’re just friends. That’s it. It can’t go any further or it’s destined to end up a disaster. Now, if I keep saying it to myself maybe I’ll believe it too.

  I drag a french fry through the mound of ketchup on my plate, forming a circular design. So I inadvertently made a lunch date with Dean. It’s like my body is on autopilot, doing whatever the hell it wants despite my brain. I stare down at my edible art and try to clear my mind from all things related to Dean.

  “So, I get it. He’s supposed to protect you from sleazy guys and drinks spiked with god knows what at parties, but what are you supposed to do for him?” Lexie sips her diet cola. She twirls her hair around her finger.

  I shrug and glance around the light gray walls of the dining hall. “I guess he wants me to give him intel about girls on campus…you know, who to stay away from and whatnot.”

  Lexie raises her eyebrows. “Does this mean we’re hitting more frat parties?” A small smile creeps across her face.

  I push my plate away and shake my head. “No, but if we do happen to make an appearance, I won’t have to worry.”

  Lexie bounces in her seat. “Awesome. Remember that guy Tom…you know the one I was dancing with at the party?”

  I tap my fingernails on the table. “Vaguely.”

  She takes a bite of her turkey sandwich and drops it back on the plate. “Well, he asked me to go for pizza tomorrow night.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin and smiles. “Since he’s in Beta Omega, frat parties may be back on the menu.”

  I sigh. Great, just what I’m hoping for. “The only thing on my menu right now is finding a physics tutor.”

  “If the rumors are true, wear a short skirt and heels and you’ll ace the class.”

  I slug my water. “I don’t know if pole dancing in the middle of his desk could help me now.”

  She stands up, grabs her backpack, and slings her purse around her shoulder. “Can’t hurt.” She nudges me as she walks past my chair. “Got English Lit in ten minutes. See you later.”

  I wave and sink back in the plastic chair. Hate to break it to her but frat parties are a thing of the past. Suppose we do go to a frat party and Lexie parties with Tom, and Dean acts as my wingman, and I give him the intel on the girls of the campus just as planned. Then what? Eventually, Dean will find one worthy enough to hook up with. So what’s the plan for that scenario? Guess I’m supposed to sit outside the door and wait until he’s done. How did I let myself get talked into this? Those deep blue eyes mesmerizing eyes are clearly weapons of mass destruction and I’m not willing to be a casualty.

  I pull open the heavy wooden door of Smithfield Hall and wipe my wet boots along the black carpet. The intricate wooden carvings in the molding of the mahogany make it look more like a gingerbread house than a study hall. Well, except for the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves gracing three of the four walls. Five long tables, adorned with dark green lamps, spaced out almost equally, fill the room. I clutch the strap of my backpack and walk forward.

  Looks like I’m the first one here. Great, am I the only person who needs tutoring help in physics? Guess it would be nice if the tutors were actually here. I drop my backpack on the second to last table and slide into the hard wooden chair, arranging my tablet and physics book on the table along with two ink pens.

  I take one from my meticulously arranged menagerie and tap it on the tabletop. Too bad patience isn’t a virtue I’ve been blessed with. I pull out my cell phone from my backpack and check the time: six o’clock on the dot. Looks like the tutors aren’t so punctual.

  The door crashes against the doorjamb and slams shut, sending a loud thump through the quiet room. I jump and stare straight ahead. Heavy footsteps stomp toward me, louder with each step. I push my chair back and stand up, trying to get a better look at whomever is coming toward me.

  I squint and try to focus as the figure steps into the dim light. It can’t be. I rub my eyes and stare. Dean breaths heavy and throws his backpack on the table top next to me.

  He pulls off his hat and runs his hand through his hair. “Ready to learn the laws of attraction?” He pulls out a chair and plops down, pulling it closer to mine.

  My eyes travel along his chiseled jaw line to his cheeks, tinged with the slightest hint of red from the frozen air outside, and continue to his deep blue eyes. I lock my gaze with his. So far, the laws of attraction seem pretty unfair. I mean, my body refuses to acknowledge anything my brain is saying.

  I sit back in my chair and turn toward him. “Are you stalking me, or are you secretly a superhero who feels the need to continually come to my aid?”

  “Super Dean at your service.” He pretends to rip open his shirt like Superman.

  I roll my eyes and try to hold in the small smile creeping over my face. “No one else at Lakeview U needs physics help except me?” I look around the desolate room.

  “Next to Organic Chem it’s the busiest session.” He pulls out a book and notebook from his backpack. “Dr. Jenners stopped me in the hall, told me he sent Brooke Powers to a session. Too bad he had an old flyer, Physics tutoring moved to Wednesday.” He grabs an ink pen and slides it behind his ear. “What kind of wingman would I be if I left you hanging here all by yourself?”

  “Your wingman duties are very diverse.” I look down at my notes from yesterday’s class.

  He turns my chin toward him and crinkles his forehead. “Expecting someone else?”

  A flash of heat travels from my head to the tips of my toes from his touch. I breathe deep and look into his eyes. “Didn’t know you were a science nerd too.”

  He drops his hand and turns the pages of his physics book to the laws of movement. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He raises an eyebrow.

  “Ditto.” I smirk and turn to a clean sheet of paper.

  “Can’t wait to be enlightened.” He winks and pulls the physics book closer to us. “How does a business/marketing major end up in a physics class?”

  I grimace. “Diversity credit requirement. Nothing else would fit in my schedule.” I click open my ink pen. “How about you?”

  He reaches behind his ear and slides his pen, letting the bottom edge brush against his cheek. It slides over his lips as he brings it down to the paper. “Lots of physics in Civil Engineering, plus it helps with my game.”

  I crinkle my forehead. “Really? Girls think physics is hot?”

  He flashes a sexy half grin. “Baseball.” He nibbles on the cap of his pen. “The force of the swing sends the ball in whichever direction the trajectory indicates. It’s all about acceleration and velocity.” He turns toward me. “Plus, some girls think it’s sexy.”

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Here’s the deal. I’ve got to get a 3.5 to keep my scholarship. So far, I’m at a 72. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to help me get a 90% or above on my next test.”

  “I’m always up for a challenge.” He leans in so close the faint scent of his musky cologne fills the space between us.

  Tingles shoot through my body. Great, I was hoping for someone with a bow tie and glasses as thick as Coke bottles to tutor me. Whoever made the physical stereotype for a physicist clearly hasn’t met
Dr. Jenners or Dean.

  “Let’s make this interesting.” Dean taps his pen against his lip slightly nibbling on the end.

  My eyes follow the path of the plastic lid, sliding along the crease in his lip. “That would be a miracle.”

  “One of my job requirements.” He raises his eyebrow. “If you get a 90 or higher on this test, we go out to celebrate.”

  “Sounds like a bribe.” I tip my chin and raise my eyes.

  “A wager. Plus I can put my wingman abilities to use. Since you won’t party at the frat house.”

  This whole wingman thing is getting ridiculous. All talk no action. Does he really need me to get him the dirt on the girls on campus or is this a ploy for something else? “How does this wingman thing work again? It seems kinda one-sided.” I tap my fingernails on the table.

  He lowers his eyebrows and flashes a half smile. “What’s the scoop on Tanya Layton?”

  Other than the fact that she hasn’t spent a night in her dorm room alone since she enrolled at Lakeview U and the rumors that she’s sleeping with Dr. Jenners are most likely true, not much. God, he’s actually into the whole better-than-thou-cheerleader-can’t-live-without-makeup kind of girls. Whatever.

  I cross my arms and tap my foot on the hard oak floor. “She’s dating an older guy.”

  “Really?” He taps his pen on his chin. “Guess she forgot about him at the end of the semester party before winter break. Thanks for the intel.” He salutes me.

  “Always trust your wingman.” I smirk and gaze down at my notes. Please tell me he didn’t hook up with her. I mean, he deserves better. Sure she’s beautiful and flirty but she’s just…not right for him. I leaf through a few pages of my notebook. “Time to get back to physics.”

  He pulls my test paper out from the cardboard cover of my tablet and scribbles on the top of the page. “You got this one wrong: Newton’s third law: When one body exerts a force on a second body, the second body simultaneously exerts a force equal in magnitude and opposite in direction on the first body.”