My now-beating heart sunk like an anchor to my knees as I considered her words.
****
Dallin and I had danced four songs in a row when my feet protested and I begged him to sit a few out. He guided me toward the bleachers in the gym. Silver and black material was draped from the top of the room, forming a false ceiling, and then cascaded down, paneling the walls. White lights twinkled from the potted trees, large silver clocks adorned the walls and small clocks made up the centerpieces of the black-linened tables.
“Want something to drink?”
My gaze slide to the refreshment table, which seemed miles away on a path lined with hot coals. “That would require me to move,” I whined.
Dallin gave me a dangerous grin. “I’m more than willing to get it, but it will require payment.”
“Fine, I’ll answer all of your Calculus questions for you on Monday.”
“Just as I had hoped,” he said, his voice tinged with disappointment at my non-flirty answer. I liked Dallin, enough not to lead him on until I knew the ‘Brent door’ had been slammed shut and deadbolted. “I’ll be back.”
Dallin retreated down the stairs while my eyes found Brent and Sara dancing in the crowd. Judging by the mutual smiles, they appeared to be having a great time. I forced myself to look away, concentrating on the pale pink patterns on the delicate fabric of my dress, my fingers tracing the lines and twirls there. The song ended and a new one started. I continued to study my dress, pretending it was fascinating.
“Did your date dump you?” Brent asked.
My vertebrae cracked because my head popped up so fast. He towered above me, looking mouth-watering in his black suit.
“No, he went to get me something to drink.”
“Oh, I was afraid I was going to have to be a gentleman and offer you a pity dance.” Brent eased himself down beside me.
“Nope, you don’t have to be a gentleman,” I said lightly, wiping my suddenly sweaty palms on my dress.
Brent leaned in close, his minty breath tickling my cheek. “Good to know I don’t have to be a gentleman with you.”
“Ha, ha,” I said sarcastically, but not moving away from him, and pretending my pulse hadn’t sped off like a NASCAR driver. “Where’s your date?”
“She’s . . . in the bathroom, I think.” Brent swiveled his head toward the dance. “Having fun with Dallin?” Brent asked dryly.
“Yeah,” I said through gritted teeth. “How’s Sara?”
“Great.” Brent studied his nails and I could almost see the longing to chew on them flicker in his eyes. “So, I was wondering if you still wanted to get training to control your projecting.”
“Well, I only did it that once without meaning to . . . well, and the time Thomas spiked my drink.”
“I keep forgetting what a natural you are. You really don’t need my help.” Brent slumped, resting his elbows on the bench behind him.
“You have lots of other things you could teach me.” I said quickly. “Training would be good.”
“Yeah, it will be like old times,” Brent said, nodding his head, something akin to a smile playing on his lips.
“Hey, Brent,” Dallin said uneasily, noting how close we were sitting. I quickly put some space between us, and Brent shook his head in obvious amusement. My cheeks burned as I took the water Dallin offered me.
Brent gave me an ironic look, his eyebrows arching slightly. “I’m surprised you still accept drinks from guys.”
I discreetly stepped on his toe. “It’s a matter of knowing who to trust.”
“I was just about to ask your date to dance,” Brent explained to Dallin, standing up and extending his hand toward me with a million watt smile. I nervously gulped, my eyes shifting between Brent and Dallin.
“No, thanks. I’m feeling dehydrated,” I answered, lifting my cup of water to my mouth. “Maybe later.”
A crease formed between Brent’s brows that gave me more satisfaction than it should have. I had a feeling he wasn’t used to being turned down.
“Later,” he agreed, flashing a smile toward Dallin. With that he walked away, asking the first girl he passed to dance. Without meaning to, I found myself staring after him. Dallin sat beside me and followed my gaze to Brent.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, really.”
“If you say so,” Dallin said, not sounding quite sure he believed me. After sipping our mutual drinks we made our way back to the crowd, dancing every song.
* ***
“That was fun,” Dallin said as we approached the double doors of my dorm. He’d hardly said anything since we’d left the bleachers. I think our encounter with Brent had dampened his spirits.
“Thank you for a great evening,” I replied, pausing before opening the door. I gave him a friendly hug and bid him a good night, then retreated into my dorm foyer.
I had pulled out my room key from my purse and pushed the button for the elevator when a familiar voice called, “Want to go for a walk?”
I missed a step and wobbled on my heels to find Brent sitting in our lobby resting in one of the plush leather armchairs, his feet irreverently kicked up on the coffee table. His hands were clasped behind his head, the picture of ease.
I bit my lip, tucking a curl behind my ear. “That’d be great.”
He casually looped a thumb through his belt loop as he stood, then opened the lobby door for me. The contrast in temperature between the lobby and the early winter weather outside seemed more dramatic than it had a moment before. Brent noticed my shiver and offered me his suit jacket. He helped me into it and I tried not to be too obvious as I snuggled into it gratefully, inhaling the citrusy musk of his cologne that made my knees momentarily buckle. Tucking my hands into the pockets of his jacket, I strolled beside Brent, his gait slow and leisurely, like there was nowhere else he wanted to be but by my side.
Billowy lavender and indigo clouds covered the moon, creating an artistic landscape. The subdued light and flower-perfumed air created a romantic setting as we walked the well-worn paths of Pendrell. Conversations unsaid and experiences shared followed us like shadows, but we didn’t speak. There was an undemanding easiness in our silence, but it also crackled with insistent possibilities.
When we approached the commons building, Brent pointed toward it with a jerk of his head, his eyebrows raised in a question. I nodded and followed him to its outdoor courtyard, now deserted. We huddled near the wood-burning fireplace, settling into metal chairs placed near its edges. Even though the night air was chilly, something, made me uncomfortably warm, so I slipped Brent’s jacket off my shoulders and draped it over the back of my chair.
I rested my head on the metallic backrest and stared up into the stars; there seemed to be thousands tonight. I wondered how many other people were watching them along with us. A shooting star shot across the twinkling canvas and, closing my eyes, I made a wish on it. The fire crackled and sparked, the heady smell of wood smoke hung in the air. It was a perfect moment. Sitting beside Brent, studying the stars, not feeling the need for words had my heart almost bruising my ribs with its intense thudding, but it was also achingly familiar, comfortable.
After a while, Brent shifted in his chair, and then rearranged himself. I turned my head toward him, allowing myself to admire how extraordinarily handsome he was in the blue shades of moonlight with his gorgeous features cast in dim shadows. It reminded me of a face similar to his that had lived in darkness for several years.
“What did Neal say to you before he went into the light?”
“What you’d expect: words of love and thanks. He also asked that I let my parents know what happened.” Brent gave me a little wink. “Oh, and that my girlfriend was hot.”
“You’ll have to introduce me to her someday,” I teased, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair and tucking my hand under my chin, watching Brent.
“I’ll set it up,” Brent said, stretching his legs out in front of him. “It’s so weird to not kn
ow your every thought.”
“I know,” I agreed. “What are you thinking?”
He used one of his fingers to lift my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You look incredible tonight. In fact, you look so delectable that it’s hard to keep my thoughts gentlemanly.”
My cheeks burned and I started to protest, shaking my head adamantly, unable to accept the compliment and waved my hand at him dismissively. I gently pulled back, his fingers tentatively released my chin. I let out an un-ladylike snort. “Fine, don’t answer.”
He raised his eyebrow in response. “Don’t believe me? I can prove it.” He then took a moment to let his eyes slowly wander over me in an embarrassingly intimate and appreciative manner that made me shiver slightly. Brent tilted toward me with a wicked smile, accompanied by a newly-formed desire for me in his eye, that I refused to believe was real.
“Oh, shut up, Brent,” I said, angry at myself for almost falling for his smooth words and sexy eyes.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.” He chuckled, reclining back again.
“Only if you stop saying things you don’t mean,” I retorted, trying to force my voice to sound light as fluff.
Brent rose from his chair and strode to the window of the commons building looking into the building’s game room, his shoulder resting against the brick. His reflection in the window mirrored his amused grin. “This coming from the girl who took advantage of my weakened state and, while I was sleeping, moved so close to me she practically forced herself into my arms.”
“Oh, please. You’re the one whose arms were wrapped around me,” I argued out of habit, folding my arms with a scowl.
Brent’s warm breath touched the clear windows, steaming them slightly. “You’re also the one who kissed me while in my previously mentioned weakened state. Then you claimed to not mean it. Tell me, do you take responsibility for any of your actions?”
I jumped out of my chair, one of my hands on my hip, the other wagging at Brent as I walked toward him. “It was an accident,” I snapped. “Not to mention, you kissed me first.”
Brent looked almost bored with the conversation and gave me an exaggerated yawn before answering. “That was to stop your meltdown. It didn’t count as a kiss.”
“Right,” I fumed, my index finger poking him in the chest. “So we’re even then. My kiss didn’t count because it was an accident and yours didn’t count because it was strictly for medical purposes. Neither of them counted as kisses.”
“Would you have wanted them to?” Brent demanded suddenly, bending his neck so he whispered it in my ear. His mouth gently grazed my earlobe, his breath caressing my neck. He lifted my finger that was still digging in between his ribs and circled his own around it, then slid his hand down until our fingers were intertwined. My insides melted into a sticky Yara-puddle of romantic goop.
Sandpaper lined my throat. I opened my mouth, intent on making some snippy comment. “I . . . I mean . . . you . . .” My traitorous brain allowed words to abandon me, leaving me stuttering and flushing like an idiot.
“I thought so.” Brent pulled back and examined my face with a smug smile that made my racing pulse skitter to a stop.
“Why, you . . . of course I—”
Brent cut me off in the most unexpected way. He took me in his arms where I gave a feeble token struggle. He held me tightly, both our hearts beating loudly in a harmonious rhythm, before he pulled back enough for his supple, soft lips to find mine. The whole atmosphere around us changed. The air felt thicker, full of something new, exciting but scary, and smelled sweet like vanilla.
Emotions boiled inside me as my joints turned into jelly, my heart went up in cinders and even my pinky toe swooned. Joy can be overwhelming, too, I found, as I projected without meaning to. To my amazement Brent must have felt it too, because his spirit followed mine; we both had left our bodies in the same instant. In the back of my mind, I was aware that the trees around us swayed at the sudden gale of wind circling us, my hair lifted and wound around Brent’s head, chairs rattled, loose stones shuddered, trash cans tipped and their contents spilled across the ground before becoming airborne, even the fire roared louder. When we finally pulled apart, the area around us was littered with debris, broken branches, toppled objects and Brent’s hair spiked unevenly, though that might have been from running my fingers through it.
“That was . . .” I trailed off trying to find the proper adjective.
“Long overdue?”
“Long overdue? You’re the one who got skittish when I mentioned how I felt and backed away when we almost kissed.”
“You call me on all my crap, don’t you?” He laughed throwing his head back. “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said. His fingers skimmed up my shoulders until they cradled my neck and my whole body tingling.
“Love?” I couldn’t meet his gaze so I studied his strong chin instead.
The veins on his neck pulsed, the muscles in his shoulders tensed and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, love, Yara.” His fingers traced the contours of my jaw and I leaned into his touch. “What Dallin said was true . . . I did date around a lot, but with you it’s been different— it’s been different from the beginning. I don’t want anyone else. I haven’t wanted anyone else since I met you.”
His chocolate brown eyes, filled with passion and vulnerability, were like black holes trapping me in their gravitational pull.
“I don’t either.”
A brilliant smile flashed on his face and his shoulders loosened.
He looked around at the tipped table, strewn garbage, fallen leaves, and general chaos of the usually tidy quad. “Impressive.”
“I think we can do better,” I said, resting my head on his chest, where his heart beat strong and sure, matching the cadence of my own.
“There’s always room for improvement,” Brent agreed with a promising grin. “It just might take a lot of practice. I’m something of a perfectionist.”
The wind picked up intensity as Brent’s lips found mine, and I decided our training sessions were going to be a lot of fun.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank and acknowledge:
My husband, for all his help, support, love, mad grammar skills and not judging me for writing in my pajamas, even into the afternoon.
My kids, for giving me hugs and kisses when I got discouraged.
Mom and Dad, for always believing in me and helping me in any way they could.
My Grandpa Gene and Grandma Doris, who inspired so much of this story.
Maddy, my first reader, for reading every draft and letting me know what didn’t work.
The irreplaceable Alma, for doing the cover design, letting me know when a guy wouldn’t say what I’d written, giving me several verbal kicks in the butt and admitting she hated my first prologue.
Melonie, for helping me write some great one-liners, helping skeleton scenes grow flesh, and all the hours spent brainstorming with me.
Anna Genoese, my talented editor, who also has fantastic taste in television shows.
Renee, for helping me figure out how to get rid of the second Evan.
Andy, for asking, “Does her name have to be Abby?” and helping me define a music genre.
Jodi Meadows, for taking the time to explain how to show, not tell.
My big sister Melanie, for showing me that writing a book was possible.
My big brothers Steve and Brent, who are (were) the world’s best brothers.
Marietta Zacker, for asking if I needed a second Evan.
Suzie Townsend, for giving me some great feedback , and for giving me hope even while saying no.
Heather, for being a proofreader, and when needed, a critic.
Michelle (Honey), for helping edit the many versions of my book.
Cherie, for liking Brent’s lazy grin, being a beta-reader and all her positive energy.
Ashley, for her expert feedback and suggestions for several key scenes.
>
For all my other friends who were my readers and editors: Christy, Laurie, Erica, Nicole, Jody Lynn, Cali (my long lost twin), Christina (Peak) and Jill.
A big Thank You to Gillian, David and Chris for inspiring me in the first place.
And last, but in no way least, I want to thank Kamilla Quast for believing in my book enough to pick it up and take a chance on me.
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