Dust (4 page)

And slightly refreshing if I were being honest.

I heard him chuckling behind his canvas before he looked at me with twinkling eyes. "Sorry. I probably should've said something more..."

"Apologetic?" I offered when he struggled to finish.

"Yeah. But it does suck."

I smiled at him. "Yeah, it sucked." It was odd how that description was both fitting, yet hugely understated. "That's why I go by Liv now. Because it’s not what she called me."

"That's deep." His phone beeped, and he looked down at it. He narrowed his eyes and muttered something that sounded like, "Women."

"Girlfriend?" I asked, partially relieved with the easy subject change.

His gaze cut to me, a smile playing at his lips. "Hell no. I don't date."

"I think that's the smartest thing that's come out of your mouth." I refrained from pointing out that I would know since he’d already gone on about everything under the sun.

He laughed out loud, then quickly stopped, looked over his easel, and apologized to the instructor. He looked back at me. "Don't get me in trouble," he hissed playfully. "I'm in enough trouble as it is."

I rolled my eyes and shifted the book closer to inspect the hand. "You don't strike me as the
in-trouble
type."

"Tell that to the counselor. Maybe he'll let me stop going to my university-ordered sessions a month early."

We'd enjoyed a little back-and-forth banter, but I knew immediately he wasn't kidding. I looked over at him again. His left hand fisted on his thigh. I didn't know why I was letting this guy be a distraction to my boring art class, but he fascinated me. Now that he seemed tense, I should want to take the opportunity to shut him out and focus on my assignment. I usually relished the moments in life when talking could cease.

But I didn't want our conversation to end on a bad note. I could console him somehow, but I wasn't one do to that. I wasn't one to lift someone's spirits at all actually, but at least I could follow his lead and maybe lighten the situation. Maybe ease his tension. Hell, now seemed like a good time to tease him about his diarrhea of the mouth problem.

"Uh-oh. Did you talk someone into a coma with all that rambling you do?"

He twisted in his seat and looked at me. I watched his eyes as the storm brewing shifted and humor twinkle within them. They really were a gorgeous gray-blue color—not that I was paying attention to that or anything.

"No, smarty pants. I threw a desk. At someone's face."

Oh really. I quirked an eyebrow. "Remind me not to piss you off."

"Don't piss me off." He said, chuckling as he went back to his artwork. "Why do you think that was the smartest thing that's come out of my mouth?" he asked as if the face-bashing had never been brought up.

"About the dating? I don't date either."

"I guess we're a lot alike, Liv," he murmured, and I wasn't sure if he sounded happy about that. If he were as messed up as me, he'd have reason to not like that.

"Who knows, er..." I leaned back and looked at him. I couldn't believe we sat next to each other in class and had spoken on two occasions now, but I didn't even know his name. Normally, I wouldn't care enough to ask. People tended to push themselves onto me with introductions and all that crap. I couldn't remember the last time I was the one who initiated introductions. "What's your name, by the way?"

He stilled. I couldn't see him behind his canvas, but no tell-tale sign of motion was evident. Then he moved, scooting his stool, and stood. He stepped over to me and stuck out his hand.

"I'm a dick."

"Nice to meet you, Dick." I shook his hand without thinking first and surprised myself further when I didn't cringe away at his touch.

He chuckled. "I should've introduced myself before. You're the new one here. And I'm not being a very gracious host-slash-student. Killian," he said a little softer. "Killian Ashley. Some people call me Kill."

"Olivia Musgrave. Everybody calls me Liv." I pulled my hand away before any sudden reflexes to yank it out of his grasp would embarrass me. He put his hands in his pockets.

"Well, Olivia 'Liv' Musgrave. Can I make up my thoughtlessness by giving you a ride to the fundraiser tomorrow?"

I felt the blood fall out of my face, but I forced myself not to flee. Is that what he was after? I was so inexperienced around guys because I avoided them. It was hard to learn what was considering flirting when I refused to do it or even acknowledge it. "I don't date." I freaking
told
him that already.

"Good. Then there will be no misunderstanding, because, as I told you, I don't either."

I glared at him. "I'm not sleeping with you." I didn't do that.
Wouldn't
do it ever again. My one experience with it resulted in enough therapy sessions to last me a lifetime. But I wasn't telling him all that. He just needed to know the basics, which in this case was that he was not getting into my panties. Period.

"That's good." He chuckled but then suddenly paled. "Oh shit, that came out wrong." He put his hand on my shoulder. "You're sweet, Liv. I like talking to you, but I don't date or hang out with girls I fuum...I mean I don't do relationships. I was serious when I said I needed help with my term paper. If we're going to help each other out with our classes, then we have to keep things strictly friendly."

Any normal girl would feel insulted by what he'd just said.

Good thing I wasn't normal.

Even more so, I was relieved. I didn't need the pressure of a man making a pass at me and trying to hook up. No way. No how. No thanks. I hadn't shrunken away at his touch, but the thought of a man doing anything more made me want to vomit a little. It was too easy to get lost in the past, to remember the smell of alcohol-laden breath and unforgiving hands. Hell no.

I hadn't missed his comment about tutoring again, but if helping him with his paper gave me a free pass not to be on the defensive with any offensive flirting maneuvers he used, I was willing to consider it. Later. We had a more pressing issue to deal with right now. I took a deep breath before answering. "Well then, I accept. As long as you know my panties are off limits."

He chuckled as he placed his right hand over his heart and lifted his left hand in the air. "I promise never to breach the limits of your panties."

He really was a nice guy and easy to talk to. I wasn't sure how I felt about that since discussing personal stuff was usually off limits and blabbering about useless crap was too—on principle. But he could help me with my art class, and at the very least, he could make my time in the classroom more tolerable. Chatting with him was already pushing the boundaries of my comfort level, but if I was going to be working for Hallmark or Shoebox or any other greeting card company, I needed to get used to talking to artists. Learning the basics of art and how artists worked were the reasons I even bothered taking this class. This would be good practice, not just a highlight on my resume to give me an edge over other applicants.

And if his declaration about my panties stung any, I ignored it.

H
e was late
.

I looked at my watch for the hundredth time, and then cursed myself for agreeing to go to the fundraiser with Killian. I knew better than this. The night had big-fucking-disaster written all over it. I did not do social engagements, and college parties disguised as charity events qualified as such.

"You can ride over with me, Liv."

I glanced at my roommate and shook my head. She'd been decorating at the student union building all afternoon. She'd come to the dorm a few hours ago spouting off some nonsense about needing to make an entrance, so she'd come back to freshen up before arriving fashionably late.

I wasn't fashionable. Just late.

"Did you text—" She stopped and looked at the door when a knock sounded. I gritted my teeth and stomped over to it, knowing exactly who it was—
or who it better be
—and yanked it open.

"You're late."

"I'm sorry," he said at the same time. "My grandma was missing. If I hadn't found her before I left, my grandpa would've blown up my phone when he realized he'd hidden her."

I frowned at him. I wasn't used to any social engagements, so I had no idea what proper etiquette was at a time like this. I knew he was late and my time was important, regardless if I was just going to stay hidden in my room for the night reading. I was pretty sure an acceptable form of punishment was introducing my Sperry's to his balls. I couldn't help it if I lacked societal knowledge and embraced a violent protocol. I'd be erring on the side of caution, really. But what he said momentarily threw me, confused me to distraction. "That probably makes sense in here," I tapped his forehead. "But what came out of your mouth sounds jacked up."

"Come on. I'll explain on the way."

"Have fun, you two," Jewel said, singsong.

I rolled my eyes and left the dorm, not waiting for Killian. I'd told Jewel it wasn't a date, but that hadn't stopped her from implying it was every chance she'd gotten in the hours since she'd been back. I'd had to endure her innuendoes as she'd primped for the evening, donning a skirt that'd drive the most religious man to sin, or at the very least could make her a victim of the first ever slip-and-fall pregnancy. Walking around in stilettos near a bunch of drunken guys did not a safe-sex evening make. But watching her carelessly wiggle into scraps of clothing caused an unfamiliar reaction in me. Envy. I envied her. The way she bounced through life without worries. She'd never known true fear or heart-wrenching ache.

"I'm over here," Killian said and pointed in the opposite direction than I'd started to go once hitting the parking lot. I veered to the right and followed beside him. We split at the front of his truck and got in. The engine roared to life and he backed out without beginning his explanation. Excuses. Normally, I wouldn't care. I should've been happy when he hadn't shown up, but instead I was confused. Then hurt. Then seriously pissed.

The fact he hadn't moved his arm after putting it behind me, across the back of the seat to look through the rearview window, hadn't been lost on me. He wasn't touching me, so I let it go. I wanted answers, but I didn't know how to demand them without sounding as psychotic as I felt.

He lifted his hand and rubbed his head. "I meant my grandma's ashes. Grandpa has Alzheimer's. He knows she's gone, but when something triggers a memory—happy, sad, whatever—he hides her. Most of the time, he subtly gives away the stashing place, but tonight he just rambled on about some living angel. It took me an hour to find her." He laughed humorlessly. "The damn garden. He's never taken her outside before."

We were stopped at a light, but he didn't look at me. His left knee was bouncing and he white-knuckled the steering wheel. I didn't know this guy very well. Hell, I didn't know anybody very well besides my mom, but I believed him.

"Can I get your number? That way if something like that happens again at least I can text you or something. Let you know I'm gonna be late."

"You plan on giving me a ride to other school functions?" I raised an eyebrow at him. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Was this an angle men played?

He chuckled. "Chill out, woman. I'm not gonna sneak in dates with you. If I'd known you were rooming with Jewel, I could've called her to warn you I was running late. It's just common courtesy. Besides, we need to be able to reach each other to swap expertise on our classes." He glanced at me. "Oh, I'm free Tuesday afternoon, and if that day is good for you, I can make sure I'm not scheduled to work at the advertising agency. I'm not sure what your schedule is like, so if that doesn't work for you, then let me know when you're free and I'll get off work. I'll have to make arrangements for someone to be with my grandfather either way. The last couple of episodes have been too close together. I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to handle him by myself once I moved back home, but he's getting worse."

He was like a girl. Worse actually. I knew this because I'd seen babbling chicks on television and on movies who
knew
when to shut up. He lacked that ability. It was as if the cosmos were playing some cruel joke by gender-swapping our personalities. But the universe didn't have a sense of humor. I had firsthand knowledge of how vicious it could be.

We pulled into a parking spot in front of the student union, and I grappled with which part to address first. I hadn't agreed to any tutoring or studying sessions with him. Was I really willing to take this step? I also wondered why he had Jewel's number, but it was none of my business. Surely, she'd have said they'd dated while she chattered on all evening. Then again, he said he didn't date. God, now I was rambling. At least I'd kept it internal.
Okay, Liv, you can do this.

"Let me see your phone." His brow furrowed, but he handed it over after unlocking the screen. I created a contact for me and sent a text to my phone so I'd have his number before handing it back. It wasn't really a yes to spending time with him, but it wasn't a
no
either. It was a step. One of many I needed to take. "There. Now we both have each other's number." He briefly looked at it like it might bite him before putting it back in his pocket. Not knowing what he was thinking—but realizing he could be totally lost on something unrelated—I jumped to the next topic he'd mentioned. Might as well go all in. "And Tuesday is fine. I don't have anything that afternoon." I opened the door and got out. I heard him open his door and turned to watch him after I walked by the hood of his truck.

"Good," he mumbled, looking away, his jaw clenching.

What had happened to him? Why was he acting all brooding now? Did he not want me to agree to Tuesdays? No, that didn't make any sense. The few times we'd been together he'd brought it up every time. Was touching his precious phone some major sin? Was that another man thing? Hell if I knew, but I'd go with that. "You didn't have to give it to me if you didn't want to," I snapped. Jeez, I suddenly felt so out of my element, not that I'd felt completely within it before.

He stiffened without saying anything. Well, screw him. He just gave me a ride here. We hadn't agreed to hang out with each other all night. I could go in and try this friend thing with a different classmate. It'd be my luck that this was typical behavior though. No wonder I never wanted to come out of my "shell" as my therapist had called it. I started to walk way.

He lunged for me, grabbing my arm. "Wait!"

I gasped and yanked it away from him. My instinct to run away was suddenly very strong. He'd touched me before but not that quickly. I sensed he wouldn't hurt me, but my instincts were totally screwed up. He was big. And a man. The desire to flee was nearly overpowering.

He paled. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He lifted his hands and took a couple of steps back. "I—I've never let a chick see my phone before." He almost blushed—almost—probably realizing how silly that confession sounded.

"I'm not a chick." Not like that anyway. I crossed my arms and glared at him, willing my heart to slow. He hadn't meant to startle me, but it wasn't the first time I'd freaked about something around a man. He couldn't help it he was born with a penis. No matter how threatened I might feel in a similar situation around those born to my sex, it would never pull the same reaction from me. Maybe one day I wouldn't be so jumpy around guys.

Maybe. But doubtful.

"By definition you are, but I know what you mean. I was being silly. Sorry. Friends?" He cheesed a goofy grin, waiting. If I'd blinked I would've missed his mood change. He was all over the map, fine one minute, practically growling the next, and then cheerful. It was hard to keep up.

I could stomp off, and he'd probably let me, but what good would that do? Maybe most men were just as nuts. If so, I might as well build a friendship with one who at least wanted to be my friend and nothing more. I could overlook his crazy tendencies if he'd overlook mine. Lord knew I wasn't completely sane.

"Friends." I nodded. I took a deep breath and started toward the hall. Killian walked beside me. The silence was comfortable, but it was always comfortable for me. He was fidgeting with his fingers though, so I figured he wasn't as at ease. Something he said earlier stuck with me, and I asked before thinking better of it. "You lived with your grandparents before moving into the dorms?" If he'd moved in with them to be closer to school, why had he moved on campus? That didn't make any sense.

"Yes."

Mr. Talkative didn't elaborate. I wondered if I should ask. Maybe it was a touchy subject for him, but getting to know someone was how one made friends. If he wasn't going to spill, then it was my job to pry. Wasn't it?

He opened the door to the hall, and loud music mixed with the vocal buzzing of the crowd killed any immediate desire to carry on a conversation. Massacred it.

I should've run before when I had the chance, and now I was frozen where I stood. What the hell was I doing here?

"It's okay," Killian said and gently rubbed my back. I resisted the urge to reject his comfort, but just barely. He was the recipient of my only growing friendship, and I needed to become accustomed to social norms. People touched each other for comfort. I knew that. I just always tried to avoid it. Until now. No, right now, I needed to be sheltered, protected.

Screw that
. I had no business being around a bunch of people I didn't know. What if someone tried to hurt me again? No one was safe to be around. Anybody could look innocent and then tear your world apart. I'd been a victim because I'd been stupid. And young. I was neither of those things anymore. I flinched, my body preparing to flee. I needed to get the hell out of Dodge! But there were too many people. Maybe I could just find someplace safe to hide until everybody left, then I'd be safe...

"Easy," a deep voice murmured as a hand squeezed my shoulder.

I gaped up at the person busting through my panicked haze. Right. Killian was here. He wouldn't hurt me, would he? His touch was gentle, as if he were reassuring me, erasing my doubts. No, for some reason I knew he wouldn't attack me. I didn't know him well, but deep down I knew that to be true.
You were just questioning your instincts though, remember?
God, I was a mess.

My head jerked in some semblance of a nod, I hoped, and he dropped his hand. I could do this. Be normal. At least for tonight. I took a fortifying breath. No, dammit.
Starting
tonight. This was why I was here. I would do this. My therapists would call this progress, be impressed with my ability to face my fears. But they'd only be partly right. I knew the real reason I was doing this and it was out of guilt for my sister. Whatever drove my motivation, the result would still be the same.

"Let's head to the bar. Get some drinks?" he asked, but he was watching me, waiting for me to show any signs of being ready to proceed. I wasn't ready, but I didn't have a choice. I needed to do this.

"Okay."

He turned, and I followed behind him since his body forged a path within the horde. He got a couple of pats on the back that I dodged with forced stealth. It was either that or risk getting slapped in the head on accident. When he stopped, I'd been following so closely that I almost barreled right into his back. Thankfully, I stopped in time to avoid that minor embarrassment. I didn't need any more of those tonight.

"This way," he said over his shoulder. I followed as he maneuvered his way to the side where the punch bowl was. He turned to face me. "I'm sure it's spiked, so if you don't want alcohol, don't get the red stuff." He reached for a canned soda, and I did the same. I wasn't opposed to drinking booze, but I had my reasons for usually avoiding it. I hadn't been of legal age very long, and the few times I'd indulged, I was worried I'd be called out on it. Just because someone turned twenty-one didn't mean the fear of getting caught with a beer would just go away. The initial instinct to hide guilt was too ingrained, and I tried to avoid things that drew attention. Then again, said guilt could've been the result of being raised in the Bible belt. The other reason was because I didn't like the smell of some kinds of liquor. Brought up bad memories of some events I tried best to forget.

Regardless of any past or present reasons I usually shied away from the stuff, there was no telling what, or how much, had been put in the punch. Frankly, I wasn't willing to drink something with a liquor-to-punch ratio that was more likely to put me in the hospital than garner a nice buzz.

Killian popped open his drink and guzzled some down. I opened mine and looked around cautiously as I sipped. I wasn't sure how to do
this
. Be sociable. I wondered if I should start the conversation, but what should I ask? I could mention how nice it was it hasn't stormed lately, but that was cheesy. I couldn't lead with something trivial—and transparent—as the weather. God, this was hard. It seemed as if I were the only one plagued with ineptness. Girls—women—were dressed up in heels and were shamelessly flirting with guys. Heck, some were downright throwing themselves at the opposite sex. Didn't these ho-bags have any self-respect?