But she wasn’t superficial. Mostly. She didn’t think.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the view.
“Elizabeth.”
She jerked her head and forced her eyes to his, and was instantly annoyed when she saw he was amused. Couldn’t a girl ogle in peace?
“I asked if you wanted to use the shower.” He indicated the room behind him as though she might need a diorama. “You mentioned taking one this morning, and I thought it might save some time if you—”
“Where did you sleep?” she asked, needing to reclaim control.
“Downstairs.”
Her throat tightened. “Why?”
“I told you last night.” He ran a towel over his head, mussing his normally unmussed brown hair, and inspiring her ovaries to do another happy dance. It was way too early to be presented with man candy. Her rational, regulated side didn’t wake up until after at least three cups of coffee.
“I don’t remember much of last night,” she said. Then hurriedly added, “After making up the couch, at least. I was running on fumes.”
“Yeah. You have the earlier class, and I never sleep well in a new place. I thought this was better.”
Elizabeth stared at him, swallowed.
Okay, maybe she had underestimated how much trouble this guy could be. Because now the jury was in and the verdict was that Will was not the enormous asshole she’d pegged him for the first night. Maybe he’d just been an asshole that night. Hell knows she hadn’t been on her best behavior. The nerves associated with coming back to school, combined with her determination to save someone—anyone—from the heartbreak she’d witnessed at home had made her a not so pleasant version of herself. If that could happen to her, it could happen to anyone.
And if she dismissed that first night entirely, then his biggest flaw was that he was rich.
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said at last, heat blooming across her skin. “That was… That was nice of you.”
“I do have my moments.” He smirked. “Anyway, shower?”
She motioned to the rat’s nest that was her head. “Kinda doubt you have a brush that’ll salvage this mess.”
Will held up a finger. “Wait here,” he said, then dashed back inside the bathroom. A moment later, he strolled back into view, wielding a hairbrush. “Will this work?”
“Thank god for old girlfriends,” Elizabeth agreed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She was still wearing the clothes Will had given her the day before. She’d slept in his bed and in his clothes. They were already much further along than her previous two relationships.
“Try sister,” Will said, handing over the brush. “I packed it by mistake.”
Elizabeth didn’t move for a moment.
“It’s not going to bite you,” Will prompted.
“Well, obviously.” Still, she felt her cheeks heat as she accepted his offering. “Thanks. And my apologies to your sister.”
His eyebrows rose.
Elizabeth gestured at her head. “My hair is where brushes go to die.”
That earned a frown, and a long, assessing look as though Will were trying to determine if some gnarly creature was about to pop out of her rat’s nest. Well, she wouldn’t be surprised. When her hair felt like a tangled mess, it meant that it had reached disastrous proportions. The only option might well be to shave it all off.
“Looks normal enough to me,” he said.
“That’s because I’m willing to bet your hair has never so much as curled around your ears, much less your ass.” Thankfully, Elizabeth had grown out of the weird hippie phase in high school, but over the past few months, her hair had gotten longer than she’d grown accustomed to keeping it. She fisted a sloppy handful and held it up for inspection. “Also, I’m half Wookiee. Believe me, this is going to be a nightmare.”
Will looked like he didn’t know what to say to that, which was likely for the best. She was stalling, anyway, doing her best to stop noticing his annoyingly perfect skin and magazine-model abs. Honestly, hadn’t the guy ever heard of a shirt?
He cleared his throat. “Well, did you want to shower here? Offer stands from last night. It’ll—”
Get her out of this conversation, that’s what it would do. Elizabeth bounced to her feet. “Yes,” she said. “I will. Thanks.”
She was almost to the bathroom before an obvious problem occurred to her. She paused, but didn’t turn around. No more drooling over the man-candy. “Ahh, my clothes. Are they—”
“I’ll get them,” he answered promptly. “Towels are in the third drawer.”
“Thanks.” And she all but flew the rest of the way to safety, then closed the door behind her.
* * *
Will pulled his phone out of his pocket the second he stepped out of the dorm room and contacted Lyft about a ride. Perhaps he was being overly optimistic to assume Elizabeth could be ready in thirty minutes, but if she wanted to run by her dorm and make her class, he needed to get things in motion now.
Once done, he headed to the laundry room on the floor below, where he found Elizabeth’s clothes still neatly folded atop the dryer. He picked up the small pile and started back for the stairs, his mind tumbling all over itself in a frenzy to decode the conversation he’d just left. Moreover, the borderline famished look that had fallen over Elizabeth’s face the moment he’d stepped into the room. It was the first time that she’d regarded him with open female interest, and it had been blatant to the point that he knew, without a doubt, anything he might have thought he’d seen before had been an illusion. Elizabeth was not a subtle woman. It was one of the many things he appreciated about her.
Right now, he appreciated the fact that she was in his room—in his shower—rubbing his soap onto her hands, then running those hands over her naked body. In fact, he might appreciate it too much, given the way his cock twitched every time that particular image entered his mind, which had been approximately every five seconds since he’d stepped into the hall.
Will shook his head to clear it—not that it worked—and started back up the stairs.
When he arrived in his room, he noticed the shower was no longer running, which lent him pause. Living with Georgiana most of his life had instilled in him an understanding that women took twice as long doing pretty much everything, especially when it came to anything involving the bathroom.
Apparently, Elizabeth was the exception to that particular rule.
But as he was learning, she was the exception to a lot of things.
“Shitshitshitshit!” erupted from behind the bathroom door, followed by an odd rip that sounded like Velcro being pried apart.
“Elizabeth?”
“Yeah,” she replied weakly. “Just doing battle. I won’t lie, Darcy. It doesn’t look good.”
“Is everything—”
“I’m going to be bald. Literally bald.” She sighed. “I knew I should’ve tackled this monstrosity before getting in the shower.”
“You’re…”
“Brushing my hair—ow, mother-fuck nugget!”
Will bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “You all right?”
“Getting there,” she replied. “You have my clothes?”
He glanced down, then felt stupid for needing to verify that yes, her clothes were still in his hands. And then his cock jumped back in the game because he realized, belatedly, that the item on top of the pile was her underwear.
Will inhaled sharply. Had she been wearing his clothes without underwear?
The thought made his spine tingle.
“Will?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, nearly stumbling over his feet in his eagerness to get to the door. “It’s here.”
The door edged open and a pink-faced Elizabeth peeked through the crack. Her towel-clad body was completely visible in the mirror behind her, though he forced himself to keep his eyes on hers.
She extended a hand. “Thanks.”
He blinked, almost asked for what, then cursed
inwardly and shoved her clothing forward. She snatched them as though afraid he’d keep them from her and slammed the door shut—but not before taking another long look at his naked chest.
Which he should probably do something about. He turned to his dresser and tugged free the first thing he saw.
A few minutes later, Elizabeth emerged from the bathroom, dressed in the yoga pants and long-sleeve tee from the day before. Her hair was, thankfully, still attached, straight and visibly damp. She looked…
Beautiful.
Will swallowed. Yeah, she was beautiful. Denying it didn’t make it any less true. If the past week had taught him anything, it was running from his attraction to Elizabeth had done nothing to kill it. Perhaps if she’d been a different person…but she wasn’t.
Elizabeth held something up that looked like a cross between a microphone and road kill on a stick.
“Benefit of having money is your sister can afford some sturdier accessories,” she said. “The handles usually break off mine when my hair gets that bad.”
He blinked, comprehension dawning. “God, that must’ve been…” Well, at least the Velcro sounds made sense now.
“Painful,” she supplied. “You’d think for as often as I have to do this, I’d get used to it, but I’m a big weenie when it comes to pain. My mom used to say I had a tender scalp.” She nudged said scalp with her free hand, a somewhat wistful expression falling over her face. It didn’t last. “Anyway, the brush survived, but I don’t know if it’s salvageable. I’ll do my best to pull the hair out and get it back to you.” Elizabeth raised her eyes to his. “Don’t be fooled, Will. Thick hair is a real sumbitch.”
“I like your hair.” The comment left his lips before his brain could sign off. Will felt his cheeks heat almost at once.
“Oh.” She looked discomfited too, which only made the moment more awkward. “Umm. Thanks.”
A thick silence fell between them. That was until Will’s pocket vibrated with what he was sure was notification that their driver had arrived.
“Ah, better get going, then,” Will said, kneeling over to pluck Elizabeth’s backpack off the floor. It was still slightly damp from the previous day’s downpour, but seemed otherwise to be in working order.
She snatched it. “Yeah, thanks. For this.” She jostled the backpack. “And for the bed.”
He nodded. “Anytime.” Well, that didn’t sound forward at all, did it? “I mean—”
“We should go,” she said before fleeing into the hallway.
For a moment, he stood still, watching the empty space she’d vacated. Then his brain kicked on and remembered that she wouldn’t get very far without him, and he started after her.
11
Will refused to let her walk from Longbourn to her first class, which she supposed others would consider chivalrous. For Elizabeth, it was downright confusing. Still, she knew she was liable to spend less time arguing with him about her method of transportation than she would traipsing across campus, so ultimately she agreed to return to the car after grabbing her things for her first morning class.
As soon as the driver pulled up outside the appropriate lecture hall, Elizabeth all but dived out of the vehicle, full arms fumbling to keep hold of all her books. Her backpack was stuffed to the brim and she intended to sequester herself in the library later to catch up on everything she’d missed the night before.
“Thank you for the ride,” she sputtered, not looking at Will. “This wasn’t necessary but thanks.”
“Do you need any help?”
“No,” Elizabeth said, forcing her eyes to his. He had a foot out of the car like he was about to spring into action, but paused at her word which, she realized, had been more barked than spoken. Forcing herself to calm, Elizabeth summoned a smile from somewhere deep down and hoped it looked at least somewhat convincing. “No. I’ve got it from here.”
Will withdrew, situating himself back within the car. Still, the door didn’t close. “If you’re sure.”
“Yes. I gotta go.” She glanced toward the lecture hall. “Umm, see ya.”
And then she was off at a brisk pace, desperate to get her mind off Will Darcy and onto other things.
Because she was feeling things. Things she’d sworn she wouldn’t feel. Granted, it had been a long time since she’d gotten excited over any guy—like before she’d graduated high school. Even her last two boyfriends hadn’t elicited this much jitteriness, and she’d liked them both just fine. They’d been nice guys. Safe. A little on the boring side, but otherwise fine and dandy. Breaking up with them hadn’t been fun—the last one had been a crier—but also hadn’t broken her heart, and she’d thought then that perhaps that was because her heart, still gun-shy from her parents’ divorce, had known better than to get involved.
This had led her to the brilliant no-relationship plan. It made more sense to keep anyone from getting hurt. She hadn’t loved being the person who broke hearts, especially when it hadn’t been on purpose.
No relationships. Safe and sound.
Her heart had been in it to win it until she’d met Will. And even that first night when he’d been a total tool, she’d felt something.
Now…
She seriously needed to nip this in the bud.
The next thing Elizabeth knew, she had bounced off something warm and firm and landed on her ass amid a shower of text books. She blinked dumbly to clear the cobwebs, then looked up to see what the hell had run into her.
The what was a guy. A guy with a furrowed brow and worried eyes. “Are you all right?” He paused. “No, of course you’re not. Here…”
He offered her a hand, which she took without thinking, and he pulled her to her feet in a swift move that looked way more effortless than it was.
“Are you hurt?” He looked her up and down in a way that made her feel naked, but not in a sexy way, rather a I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes and it’s obvious way. “Sorry—you came out of nowhere.”
“Serves me right for being in my own little world,” Elizabeth said, offering a small smile. “Also, I’m pretty sure I got the pay attention to where you’re going speech at least five thousand times when I was a kid.”
“Yeah, but, who didn’t? Really?” The guy favored her with a smile—a nice, friendly smile with just enough smolder to be sexy rather than obnoxious. He then glanced to the pavement. “Collateral damage. Allow me.” He bent over and began collecting her spilled books. Elizabeth made to help, but he waved her off with a, “Nope. You stay up there, otherwise our heads will knock together and we’ll both be down for the count.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested. “Really. It’s my fault.”
“Hey, it takes two to crash.” He straightened, her books in his arms. “Come on. I’ll walk you to class.”
“You don’t know where I’m going.”
He nodded toward the lecture hall. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess…this way?”
“You really don’t—”
“It’s not every day I run into a damsel.” He shifted the books. “Or, in this case, a damsel runs into me. Let me enjoy it.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Damsel?”
“It’s a way to make myself feel more important,” he continued smoothly. “Trust me, I can tell just by looking at you that you aren’t an actual damsel.”
And she could tell a few things of her own. Still, she couldn’t deny the guy was charming. Charming and not wearing designer shoes or sporting a new backpack, which might make him one of the common-folk.
Bonus: he wasn’t Will.
“Well, good knight, if you are to escort me, I suppose I should know your name.”
He grinned. “Sir George is at your service, milady. Though most of the other knights just call me Wickham.”
She snorted and fell into step beside him. “Why, did you lose a bet?”
“You wound me,” he replied in a tone that clearly indicated she did anything but. “It’s my last name
. I went to school with one too many Georges at one point in my life. This was the way they kept them all straight. Thing is, I’ve now trained myself not to respond to my first name, so it’s just easier to go by the last.”
“Yeah, I guess there aren’t a lot of ways to shorten George. Suppose I’m lucky.” When he looked at her, she went on, “As an Elizabeth, there were tons of variations. Lizzie, Liz, Beth, Libby, Eliza, Betty, and so on.”
“I’ve always loved the name Elizabeth.”
“I get the feeling there aren’t many female names you haven’t loved.”
“Ouch!” Wickham threw his head back—and it was a nice head, full of dark hair and situated on an admittedly biteable neck which led to broad shoulders. He had wonderfully expressive eyes too, she noticed, and his mouth seemed curled into a permanent smile. “You wound me again.”
She found herself grinning. “Ehh. You look all right to me.”
Wickham released a long, put-upon sigh. “Now you accuse me of not being genuine and mock my pain.”
“I never said you weren’t genuine. I just implied you might have a lot of favorites. There are plenty of girls around here that, unlike yours truly, are genuine damsels.”
“Yes, but the pretend ones are so much more fun.” Wickham repositioned the books with a bounce. “So, Elizabeth, where are we off to this fine morning?”
“Calculus,” she said. “Room one twenty-seven, I think.”
“Calculus this early?” Wickham shuddered and hung a right down the appropriate hall. “You’re right—you’re no damsel. I should have spotted that right away.”
“Well, we’ll see if I make it through the semester. It’s been a while since my math skills were put to the test.” Like since high school, but she decided not to mention that. “So, George Just-Call-Me-Wickham, what about you? What am I keeping you from this morning?”
A Higher Education Page 10
