Almost Never

by Amy Lamont

  She didn’t know how she made it back to her desk to gather her things. How had she been stupid enough to leave everything here?

  But she knew the answer. She hadn’t expected to be turned down. She might be lacking in social skills—spending your teenage years doing your best to avoid the notice of your classmates doesn’t make you a candidate for homecoming queen—but she’d always excelled in academics. Her grades were always good. Her papers always well researched and well written. She was valedictorian of her high school and got a full ride to Warren College with an academic scholarship.

  She didn’t gather her stuff up before she approached her professor because it hadn’t even occurred to her he’d refuse to consider her for the mentorship program. Hell, forget about consideration. She’d just known if he saw her grades, he’d all but beg her to be part of his program.

  She kept her back to the room and reached out to grip the back of her chair. But her grades weren’t enough. She wasn’t enough. A wave of nausea, cold and sick, rose through her. What was she going to do now?

  “Hey, Professor Costa.”

  She froze. She knew that voice. Her hand clenched the chair back harder, her knuckles turning white. Every muscle in her body strained and her eyes squeezed shut. What was he doing here?

  Her eyes popped open and she scanned the back of the room for a place to hide. Nothing.

  She glanced over her shoulder and her eyes riveted on him. Declan Cooper.

  Professor Costa’s voice carried to the back of the room, easy and casual, joking. “Mr. Cooper. If you’re here to audit my Genetics class, you’re late.”

  Declan snorted. Snorted! She’d barely managed to get a few coherent sentences out when she approached her professor and Declan comes in cool as a cucumber, acting like he was hanging with one of his buddies instead of one of the most esteemed professors on campus.

  “Not quite,” Declan said.

  “Then is it safe to assume you’re here to talk about your grade in Biology?”

  “Caught that did you?”

  “Hard to miss when the guy with the most to say in my class is also the guy with the lowest grade.”

  Harper turned fully forward and plopped into her seat, fascinated. Declan lifted a hand and rubbed it through his dark hair, his fingers leaving tracks through the spiky mess, but not managing to make him look any less attractive.

  No, that wasn’t possible. Declan Cooper was hot. Her gaze traveled down over his face. His cheekbones were so perfect, they’d almost be feminine if it weren’t for the squared jaw with its perpetual five o’clock shadow. She dropped her gaze lower, taking in the broad shoulders encased in a double-layer of t-shirts, the top one short-sleeved and black, the bottom long-sleeved and dark gray.

  She’d avoided Declan for the better part of the last two years. Though he’d tried to start conversations with her a few times after the party they’d gone to October of her freshman year. Like she wanted anything to do with him after that party.

  “I fell a little behind,” Declan said. “But I was hoping I could make things up. Maybe do an extra project? Or get a tutor?”

  Her attention moved to Professor Costa. Even with the sick feeling swirling in the pit of her stomach, her lips tilted. The man had just yanked the rug out from her so hard and so fast, it was tough for her to breathe. Maybe her consolation prize would be seeing Declan getting the same treatment.

  Professor Costa folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. His lips tightened as he stared at Declan.

  Unlike her own stuttering, trembling mess of a self, Declan stood firm under the professor’s scrutiny. He held the older man’s stare and waited patiently, looking like he had not a care in the world.

  Harper held her breath. Her heart beat so hard, her hand moved to her chest. For some reason she was as invested in the professor’s response to Declan as she had been to his response to her.

  Professor Costa nodded and dropped his arms. “Okay. We can work something out.”

  Harper gasped. The hand over her heart moved up to cover her mouth, pressing so hard, her teeth cut into the tender flesh in front of them. What. The. Fuck?

  Declan’s trademark half grin, half smirk twisted his lips. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t get too excited. I’m going to make you work for it. I want you to write a proposal on how you intend to improve your grade. You can’t retake a test and since you failed an exam and haven’t shown up for a few labs, it’ll take more than just a little research paper to make it up.” Professor Costa picked up his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder. “Have the proposal to me by tomorrow.”

  Declan nodded. “I will. Thanks, Professor.”

  Professor Costa clapped Declan on the shoulder and headed out of the room. Declan slid his phone out of his back pocket and stood a long moment scrolling over the screen.

  Harper sat motionless in the back of the room. The metallic taste of blood sat sharply on the tip of her tongue as she flicked it over the spot where she’d bitten through skin. Professor Costa hadn’t had to pull out files or grade books to find out who Declan was or how he was doing in Biology class. He knew right off the top of his head.

  Tears prickled behind her eyes and she squeezed them shut, refusing to let even one leak out. She opened them and her eyes narrowed on Declan as he slid the phone back into his pocket and moved towards the door.

  Being a standout had nothing to do with getting perfect grades in all your classes, even Professor Costa’s advanced Genetics course, known for being impossible. But apparently being the overly entitled son of an aging rock star fit the bill. She grasped the sides of her desk, her gaze firmly on Declan, willing him to leave so she could get the hell out of there.

  Declan paused with his hand pressed against the door. He resettled his backpack on his shoulder and then with the precision of a laser, he turned his head and homed in on her.

  Her breath stuttered in her chest. He held her stare for a long moment before she regained her senses. He saw her, so there was no reason to sit here another minute. She narrowed her eyes then turned her gaze deliberately away from him. She jerked up the zipper on her black hoodie and snatched up her bag.

  She clamped her jaw tight, preparing to storm past him to get out of this room. She took one step forward and finally returned her gaze to the door.

  He was gone. She was alone.

  DECLAN STOOD AT the end of the hallway, somewhat hidden from the door of the lecture hall by a freestanding bulletin board. He dug a baseball cap out from where it was tucked in his backpack and pulled it on, giving it a tug so it sat low over his eyes. What was she doing in there?

  The door to the lecture hall opened and he shifted to hide himself even more. It didn’t make a difference. She shot out of the room and headed down the hall in the opposite direction, never once glancing his way.

  He stepped out from behind the bulletin board and kept his eyes glued to her tiny form. She walked with purpose, but kept her head tipped down slightly toward the floor. The knot of blonde hair pulled up in a messy twist bounced with her movements. He drank in every detail until she slid out of the glass double doors and disappeared into the quad.

  The crack of the door banging closed snapped him from his intense scrutiny. His head dipped, and he shook his head at the floor. Fuck. When the fuck did he become a stalker?

  But he knew the answer. Almost to the day. It was at the end of the semester about two months after that party he’d invited her to. The one where he listened to some bitch spewing shit about Harper and left her standing alone, dismissing her like she was nobody in front of a good enough portion of the student body that it didn’t take long for the news to get to the rest of it.

  At the time, he didn’t give a fuck. Didn’t take the time to examine what that lost look on her face meant. But when, instead of moving onto the next wealthy prospect, she all but disappeared, an almost constant sick feeling took up residence in his stomach and he realized he might have been
wrong.

  He’d tried to talk to her. Tried to apologize and make things right. But first, he couldn’t find her. Then those times he did cross her path, she looked right through him. Her roommate gave him the cold shoulder.

  He’d gone home for Christmas never having spoken to her. And then things at home were…well, like things at home. By the time he got back for the new semester, he’d decided things had worked out for the best. She didn’t need to add his crap on top of what she was dealing with because of his asshole move. She was better off without him.

  But that didn’t mean that his gaze didn’t stick to her whenever he came across her. Something about her pulled him. Had pulled him from the first moment he saw her. Over the last year or so he’d even found himself seeking her out at times.

  So he’d become a stalker to the invisible girl.

  Chapter 2

  HARPER THREW HER bag on the chair just inside the front door of her apartment. She stood still in the entryway, listening. Silence met her and she let out a shuddering sigh. Thank God, she had the apartment to herself.

  She went straight to her room and locked the door behind her anyway. She leaned back against the door and squeezed her eyes closed, letting her head fall back with a thump. Wetness gathered in the corner of each eye, and her eyes popped open, staring straight up at the ceiling. Her fists clenched at her sides but she couldn’t fight hard enough to hold the tears back another second. A damp trail started in the corner of each eye and slowly streaked down towards her hairline. It started with a small trickle, but in less than a minute, the tears completely saturated the hair at her temples.

  She tilted her head forward and the tears found a new path. Now sliding down her cheeks and leaking into her mouth until their salt tingled on her tongue. She lifted her hands and flattened her palms against her cheeks before pulling them forward to stare at them.

  She would have been less surprised to see blood on them than the evidence of tears. Harper sucked her lips between her teeth and pulled in a shuddering breath, trying to hold back the wave that was coming.

  But there was no more holding it back. It broke through her with the power of a tidal wave, slamming into her chest and making it hard to breathe.

  She flung herself across the room and onto the twin bed under the window, her hands scrambling for a pillow to muffle the sounds of her grief. Finally, she let go of everything she’d been holding onto from the moment she heard the words, “…it’s going to have to be a no.”

  Her body shook and she clutched the pillow tight, sucking wavering breaths in through the cotton pillowcase. Every injustice she’d been served since her dad died rose up, threatening to close her throat while her tears continued to try to push their way through.

  Three rapid knocks at the door made her lurch into a sitting position, her pillow clutched to her belly. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “Harper?”

  A keening moan escaped her in response to her roommate’s call. She didn’t want Jamie to see her like this, but she couldn’t form the words to keep her out.

  “Harper!” Jamie rattled the doorknob as she twisted it back and forth and backwards and forwards as she shook the door in its frame. “What the fuck is going on? What happened with Professor Costa?”

  At his name, Harper squeezed the pillow, twisting it in her hands, and clenched her back teeth as she fought to find the reassuring voice that would send Jamie away. She huffed in two quick breaths and as she let them out, finally managed to get the words out.

  “I’m fine.” Her voice left her in a hoarse rasp only a little louder than a whisper. She coughed and tried again. “I’m really tired, Jamie, can we talk about this later?”

  A long silence followed before Jamie’s footsteps carried her away from the door. That was easy.

  Jamie’s interruption had at least one good thing going for it. She’d finally managed to get her sobbing under control. She leaned over and snagged the pillow from the floor, tossing it back on her bed.

  With another shuddering breath, she stood and headed for her tiny, private bathroom. She turned the cold water on full blast and leaned down to splash it over her face. She reached blindly for a facecloth and soaked it and then stood and pressed the icy cold cloth against her tear-swollen eyes. Her eyes burned and tingled as she fought to keep from breaking into sobs once more.

  Finally, she pulled the facecloth from her eyes. Only to find Jamie standing in the bathroom doorway. Harper screamed and dropped the facecloth into the sink with a wet splat. Icy water hit her shirt and she jumped back with another small shriek. She tottered for a second before righting herself and reached over to brace herself on the vanity.

  Harper twisted off the taps before turning to glare at her roommate. “How did you get in here?”

  Jamie shrugged one shoulder. “Picked the lock.”

  Harper shook her head. “That one of the skills you picked up in prep school?”

  “Yup.”

  “Why?”

  Jamie took a step into the bathroom. “Why? Why do you think, Harper? I come home expecting to hear good news and instead I find your bedroom door locked and your voice all funny like you spent the last month crying. You! The girl I’ve seen cry once in the last two years, and that consisted of two tiny tears sliding down your cheeks before you pulled yourself together.”

  Harper pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Even talking about crying made the sobs want to rise up and pour out of her again.

  “Harper, what happened?” Jamie’s voice had lost its edge, now soft and concerned.

  Harper shook her head.

  Jamie inched closer, slowly and carefully as if she approached a wounded animal. “Did you talk to your professor?”

  Harper’s head dipped low and her vision blurred. In an instant, the hot saltiness was back on her tongue. Jamie’s hand landed gently on her back, skimming from her shoulder down to the small of her back and back up again.

  The simple gesture broke Harper. When was the last time someone had comforted her as she cried? Sobs broke from her and she slowly sank to the floor.

  Jamie followed her down, hugging her close. “Shh…it’s going to be okay, sweetie.”

  Hysterical laughter bubbled up in Harper’s throat and came out mingled with her sobs. “H-how? How is th-this going to b-be okay?”

  Jamie rocked her gently and pushed back the tear-dampened strands of hair clinging to Harper’s cheek. “Tell me what happened. We can figure this out. I promise.”

  Harper turned her face towards her roommate. “He said no, Jamie. Barely even looked at me. He…he won’t even consider me for his program.”

  Jamie’s arms tightened around Harper, pulling her in close. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

  Harper allowed herself to be comforted for a few minutes while she reached deep for her normal pragmatic self. Her jaw clenched against the onslaught of more tears. Enough.

  She leaned back and swiped at her wet cheeks. “Professor Costa told me I’m not a standout. Whatever that means.”

  Jamie gave Harper’s shoulder another squeeze. “So he wouldn’t even take an application? With your grades?”

  Harper shook her head. “He told me I wasn’t on his radar.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of Harper’s mouth at Jamie’s outraged tone. Then her thoughts turned once again to the moments in the lecture hall. Her smiled fell and she shrugged. “He had no idea who I was. He said he usually already has a few candidates picked out before he even starts accepting applications. The students he accepts for his program usually have more going for them than just good grades.”

  Jamie’s nose wrinkled. “You have more going for you than just good grades. You maintain your scholarship while working two jobs. You’re an amazing cook. You’re compassionate. You….”

  Harper hugged her knees and a small laugh escaped her. “Maybe I should have had you go convince him to let me i
n the mentorship program.” Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “Or maybe I should have had Declan Cooper do it for me.”

  At the mention of that name, Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  Harper filled Jamie in on the conversation she’d overheard between Declan and her professor.

  “Rat bastard.”

  Harper nodded her agreement and then rested her chin on her knees. “Entitled rat bastard. I work my ass off and get nothing. He slacks and has the professor agreeing to anything he wants.”

  Jamie snorted. “Too bad you couldn’t get Declan to plead your case.”

  Harper’s head flew up and she pierced Jamie with her gaze.

  Jamie held her hands out in front of her. “Kidding, kidding. Jeez.”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Harper said.

  “Yeah, right. While you’re at it, why don’t you see if you can skip right over the rest of undergrad and toddle off to med school?” Jamie rolled her eyes.

  “Seriously, Jamie. He needs to pass Biology. I could make that a breeze for him. And I need help doing just what he did today—making Professor Costa sit up and take notice of me.”

  “You’re nuts. You can’t possibly think this is a good idea.”

  Harper didn’t respond, just held her gaze steady on Jamie.

  “Shit.”

  “WHY DON’T YOU at least wait until tomorrow? Maybe you’ll see things differently once you’re feeling less emotional?”

  “No way, Jamie. I need to find him before one of his groupies offers him help.” Harper strode down the street where most of the campus’s fraternity houses were located. She wrinkled her nose at the front porches full of beer-stained sofas and assorted frat boys. She halted in front of the one that had a slight tilt to the left. “This is it, right?”

  She hunched her shoulders. She didn’t really need the clarification. Even though she’d only been in this house once, and that two years ago, she could probably pick her way from the front door to the basement with her eyes closed.