Changing Tunes (7 page)

I spot Mac already sitting at a table with two coffees in front of her.

Oh thank you, Lord!

“For you,” she exclaims, sliding one coffee cup my way.

I give her a grateful smile, taking a sip, “Thank you.”

“Are you okay, Ash? You seem a little off.”

I’m normally great at hiding my emotions, but Mac seems read me like no one ever has.

“Let’s just say, I made quite an impression in my first class.”

“This I’ve got to hear,” she responds with a smile.

I recap the events from class, leaving a couple of things out, like the wink and the way he looked me up and down. I’m not sure why I do. Maybe, deep down, I’m hoping it was just my imagination, or maybe it’s because I’m worried Mac will think it’s my fault. We are just getting to know each other, and I don’t want her thinking badly of me. I would hate for her to think I did something on purpose to garner inappropriate attention from Professor Forrester. But like I said, maybe I completely misread the encounter. Stranger things have happened.

It doesn’t escape me that, once again, I care what Mac thinks of me. I want her to see the new me I’m trying so hard to be.

Mac looks at me thoughtfully before saying, “You’re a hard girl for any guy not to notice. They would be crazy not to. Oh, and girls can be jealous bitches at the best of times, so who cares.”

I’m not sure why, but her compliment means something to me. For the first time, I’m feeling a true friendship with a girl. Someone I can talk to and be myself with. Well, the new me, anyway.

Mac tells me about her class and we chat for a few minutes. My phone buzzes and without looking, I know who it is.

Warden: Call me tonight. I want a report of how your first day of classes went. Remember, first impressions mean everything. Don’t be late.

I’m dreading this phone call.

“Crap, I’ve got to get to chemistry.” I rush.

“Yeah, I should go, too. I’ll see you at home tonight.” Mac says.

Home. For the first time in a long time, it feels like a home; a place I feel like going to.

“See you later.” I wave my good-bye and head on over to my first class of chemistry—the class I’ve been dreading the most. It’s not my best subject. Don’t get me wrong, I do okay, but I definitely have to work at it. It doesn’t come easily to me, and unlike my other classes, it only meets one day a week for half the day because of the experiments we’ll be doing.

Several seats are still available when I walk in, so I’m not the last one to arrive. I grab a seat near the front. I’m going to need to be focused if I’m going to do well, expectations and everything. I roll my eyes at the thought.

Class finally starts and my teacher is a woman this time. She goes over the syllabus and her expectations of the class for the semester. She then tells us we will have a lab partner, which she’ll assign at the end of the class. I’m actually glad to hear that, no pressure. I take a moment to look around, noting one of these people will be my lab partner for the entire length of the semester and wonder whom it might be.

I notice a guy a few chairs down from me that looks vaguely familiar. Considering I haven’t technically met anyone other than Mac—well, and Luke I guess—I wonder why I recognize him. I turn around to take another look and see him glancing around the room.

On his face sits a pair of glasses I’ve definitely seen before. I stare harder, and the moment our eyes meet, I remember. The library; the book, and running into a hard chest, and those dark, chocolate-brown eyes. The same eyes I remember falling asleep thinking about. How is it I can remember his eyes so vividly from behind his dark rimmed glasses?

He doesn’t acknowledge me, but it looks as though he recalls me, too. I quickly turn away before my face catches on fire from embarrassment.

Ashley Davis doesn’t get embarrassed. What’s my problem?

I brush it off, chastising myself for getting distracted and pay close attention to the Professor. Many, many scribbled notes later, we are instructed to stay in our seats until our lab partners are called. She explains she will be pairing us, starting from the bottom of the list alphabetically and pairing with the beginning of the alphabet. I should be paired rather quickly then.

She calls a Zuckerman and an Allen first. Next is a Yang and a Bailey. Who knew waiting to see who you will be paired and sitting with all semester could be so nerve wracking? A Whitman is called, and then my last name, Davis. I raise my hand, glancing around the room to see whom my partner is, only to see the guy with the glasses has his hand raised as well.

Oh, holy hell. What are the odds?

Once we’re all paired, everyone begins to scatter and leave. I gather my things; taking my time in the hopes ‘Whitman’ will be gone. I don’t let my eyes wander, but keep them focused on the task at hand and finally sling my bag over my shoulder.

I turn, only to bump into a hard chest, again, a slight
eeep
escaping me.

“Hey, slow down. Do you always make a habit of rushing around and bumping in to people?” It’s not a sarcastic comment. No, the comment is said teasingly. Except, I’m not in the mood for teasing. This guy seems to bring out the worst in me.

“Damn, you are in my way!”

He tilts his head to the side, examining me. “Well, I thought, since we are going to be lab partners, I should introduce myself.”

“Sorry,” I say. I’m not completely bitchy, but not really sorry either.

He extends his hand, “I’m Zeke, and you are?”

I grab his hand to shake it, and when our hands touch, warmth spreads through me. Surprised at the sudden sensation, I quickly drop his hand, feeling the need to flee.

“Ashley,” I finally manage to mutter. “Look, I really need to go. I guess I’ll see you next Monday?”

He gives me a strange look, oblivious of my need to escape. “Um, okay,” he says. He hands me a folded up piece of paper, which immediately shoots one of my eyebrows up.

“This is my number. Can I get yours?”

“Why do I need your number, and why do you need mine?” I ask.

“Well, since we are going to be lab partners and all…” He drawls out. “We are going to want to help each other, and if we need to ask a question, we can get in touch … over the phone...” He’s beginning to sound slightly sarcastic now. Okay, ditch the slightly, extremely sarcastic.

I’m a little slow on the up take. “Oh. Sorry.”

“What? Did you think I was trying to hit on you?” he asks with an annoyed laugh.

He’s making fun of me now. “No, I…didn’t…” I stutter out.

“Guess what, sweetheart? Some of us have scholarships we have to maintain. We aren’t all here on our daddy’s money.”

How did he know that?

I’ve never been at a loss for words. Never. Without even having a conversation with me, he’s nailed me.

“So I’m guessing by your reaction, you aren’t used to guys not hitting on you? Well, then consider me your first.”

I’ve also never felt the need to cry, or let anyone see me cry; especially not a guy, and yet, right now, that is exactly how I feel. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears.

“Asshole!” I blurt out and rush away as fast as I can.

I think I hear my name being called and a possible, “Wait” and “I’m sorry.” But I’m so angry and upset I don’t stop. I just need to get out of there and far, far away.

On my way home, my phone rings and I glance down to see
Warden
flash across the screen. I may as well get this over with.

“Hello, Dad.”

I guess he didn’t have the patience to wait for me to call him.

“Ashley, did you make it to your classes on time?”

He says my name so formally. There’s no ‘Hi, honey, how was your first day?’ or ‘I miss you being around the house.’ Just, ‘did you make it to your classes on time…’

“Yes, Dad, I did.”

“Good, you know first impressions mean everything. I’ve got my money invested in your education, so don’t mess it up by doing anything stupid.”

My emotions get the best of me. My eyes begin to puddle as my voice begins to waiver. I spot a nearby bench and take a seat.

Choking down my emotion, I say, “I won’t.”

“Good, that’s what I want to hear. Call me by the end of the week. I want a full report on your classes.”

“I will.”

“I have a meeting to get to. I’ll talk to you at the end of the week.”

With that, he hangs up.

I don’t want anyone on campus to see my cry, so I pull my legs up and rest my cheek on them, looking in the opposite direction. I desperately try to reign in the emotions and the tears that want to fall. The tears I haven’t let fall in such a very long time. I feel helpless, like I have absolutely no control over anything in my life.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and quickly look up, wiping my face as I do. I don’t want anyone to see me upset.

“Ashley, sorry if I startled you. I called your name, but you must have not heard me.”

I can’t help the snarl that comes out. “What do you want?”

Zeke is standing in front of me. No matter how much of a douche bag he was, his presence still seems to elicit a feeling in me that weirds me out. Not in a bad way, unfortunately.

“Look, I feel bad for being such a dick.” He sounds sincere, so I look up at him. He actually does look like he’s sincere. Being the bitch I am, I let him stew for a moment before declaring a cease-fire.

Zeke sighs, “I’m really sorry, I don’t know why I acted that way. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

I glance away then finally look back at him. “I’m not upset because of you.” I snap.

That’s a lie. A partial lie, I tell myself, anyway. I snatch my bag and stand up. It isn’t until I stand that I really notice Zeke’s height again. I’m always so tall compared to most guys, but with Zeke, I have to look up. I like it a lot. I also notice he’s broader than I first thought. Not as wide as a football player, more like a baseball player.

I back up, trying for some much needed space, completely baffled at why I’m thinking about his shoulders and his height, or why, at this moment, I’m paying attention to what he’s wearing, especially his shoes. Dark denim jeans, a tight red t-shirt and charcoal grey Chuck’s. I shake my head to clear it and find myself looking back up at his face. I don’t know why, but his glasses are so hot. He’s completely hot. Apparently, shaking my head didn’t do the trick.

Move your ass, Ash, and walk away. Great! Now I’ve resorted to talking to myself.

I sigh and reach into my bag, pulling out a sheet of paper and my pen. “Here’s my number.” Slapping it in his hand, I turn and make my way home.

College is something I’ve worked long and hard for. I have a plan, a plan that does
not
include a tall, leggy, gorgeous blonde. I knew it was the same girl in class—the one that ran into me at the library and mouthed off. The funny thing is she wasn’t apologetic, not really, and I liked it. One might call me a sick bastard, but there was just something about her, something intriguing and something sad. She says what’s on her mind, that much is obvious, and I like that about her. But at the same time, she can’t hide the sadness emanating from her; her eyes show it, all too clearly.

When she ran off at the library, I had already seen her crouched down on the floor, clutching a book with all her might. It was the most beautiful and touching sight I’d seen in a long time. I could tell she was somewhere other than the library right then. My guess was she was inside a distant memory, one that obviously caused her deep pain. I know all about pain, so I know it when I see it.

I’d quietly walked away, wanting to leave her alone and not interrupt, even though seeing her like that had made me want to hold her and take away the pain. I didn’t know this girl from Eve and yet, I wanted to protect her like no one before. Not entirely true, just one other.

When I’d turned the corner and we’d collided, I wanted to grab hold of her then, but how weird she would have thought me to be; a complete stranger. She’d have freaked out for sure. She was even more gorgeous standing tall, with her hand on my chest, bracing herself for the fall. Her full lips slightly parted, and her big blue eyes looking up at me in shock. I was surprised by her outburst, and couldn’t help smiling a little at her. She was something, all right, and I thought about her for the rest of the weekend, wondering if I was going to bump into her again.