Ninja At First Sight (8 page)

“He is creepy. He looks like one of the children of the corn, and take into account that we’re currently in Iowa where corn fields abound. He may have been attempting to suck the soul out of your body down there, because that definitely wasn’t kissing.”

I found myself trying not to laugh. “Greg-”

“But you…” He pressed his lips together again, his eyebrows pulling into a tight, unhappy line. “After you left, the thought of you out with someone else, I didn’t like it. And I don’t want you to do it again.”

“I can’t not go out with anyone else ever again. That’s crazy. I have study groups and class projects.” I kept my tone even, reasonable.

“I’ll overlook your atrocious double negative for now, because that’s not what I meant.” He took a step back and reached for my hand, cradling it between his large palms and shifting his focus to where we touched. “I wanted you to go out on a date with Creepy Mark because I was certain it would be a disappointment. But when you left, it didn’t matter if you had a good time or not. It was a date, a romantic situation
if you will. Certainly you’ll have study groups and class projects in the future. But I want to be your only source of romantic situations from this point forward.”

I felt my mouth pull to one side as I watched him speak, because Greg Archer was completely adorable when he was honest and sincere.

I squeezed his hand and reclaimed the step toward him, drawing his eyes back to mine. “I would like the reverse to be true as well. I would like to be your only source of romantic situations from this point forward.”

He sighed, it sounded both happy and forlorn. “Even if you didn’t want it, it’s yours. It’s been just twenty-four hours and I’m ruined.”

“You’re ruined?” I grinned.

“Yes. I’ve been through all my best pornography videos this evening and nothing interests me.”

My mouth fell open.

“If you want to know the truth, I’m rather upset about it. I’ve invested quite a lot of money in the
Debbie Does
series, and now it’s all rubbish.”

I pulled my hand out of his, prepared to be outraged, but instead I laughed. “You’re appalling.”

His eyes twinkled with mischief, but his face and tone remained serious. “It’s pronounced
appealing,
Darling. And I don’t suppose I could talk you into recording some videos? My birthday is in September.”

I shook my head and walked around him to the last flight of stairs. “I’m not talking to you about your porn addiction.”

“I’m not addicted to porn, but I was very fond of it. It’s helped me through some difficult times and answered so many important questions from my youth, for example—pizza delivery women, as a subset of society, are sexually adventurous and are apparently paid well enough that they can afford breast implants. Did you know that?”

He sounded so epically sincere, I couldn’t stop laughing.

“And babysitters across this great country suffer from a very peculiar type of alopecia.”

“What?”

“They’re hairless, in their
lady closet
.”

“Ah! Stop!” I’m sure my cheeks were bright red.

He had to pull me up the last few steps because he wouldn’t stop regaling me with universal truths revealed to him via porn—all of which were horribly hilarious nonsense. By the time we reached my suite my jaw hurt and I was wiping at my eyes.

“Your jokes are terrible.”

Greg grinned, walking me backwards into my suite and wagging his eyebrows he corrected me, “It’s pronounced
tremendous
.”

***

I looked up
from my textbook as my headphones were pulled from my ears. Fern was standing in front of me, bent at the waist. Her face inches from my face. She was smiling.

“You and Greg,” she said.

I blinked at her. “Uh…”

“You. And. Greg.” She placed my headphones on the desk and straightened, her eyes big and round. I hadn’t seen her since the Thursday before Valentine’s Day.

“Me and Greg?”

“You’re together.” She paired this statement with an emphatic hand wave.

I gathered a large breath—stalling, trying to read her mood—then released it slowly. “Yes. I mean, I guess so.”

“You
guess
so? You don’t know so?”

If being each other’s only source of romantic situations from now meant that we were officially together, then we were officially together.

I straightened in my seat and replied with conviction, “No. You’re right. We’re together. I know so.”

After our stairway conversation, I’d invited Greg into my room because I wanted him there, not because I had any designs or plans in mind. He’d suggested we stay in the suite instead, placing me between his legs on the floor and rubbing my back. We talked until late, past 2:00 A.M., and munched on snacks of apples and string cheese. He bid me goodnight with a gentle, lingering kiss, and promises to return the next afternoon.

It was now the next afternoon.

Fern pressed her lips together. Her gaze moved over me and I suspected she was debating her next words. I was mildly alarmed because I’d never known Fern to be circumspect.

“What’s wrong?” I finally asked.

“Someone saw the two of you last night in the hallway, and then Greg leaving late at night.”

I frowned. Why anyone would care enough to tell Fern? And if they’d told Fern, how many other people knew? And what difference did it make? And why was it anyone else’s business?

“Girls like Greg,” she said with a loud suddenness, like it was a warning.

Ah… okay. Now I get it.

I widened my eyes and closed my book. “I see.”

Fern huffed dramatically then fell into the chair next to mine. “What I mean is, Greg
just
broke up with Vanessa, and now the two of you are together. This dorm can be worse than high school. We’re basically trapped in these walls until the snow melts, and small minds are occupied with the affairs of other people, especially when one of those people is Greg Archer.”

I squirmed uncomfortably and set my book aside. “I didn’t make a play for him, if that’s what people are saying.”

“I know. You’re not like that.”

“I didn’t go to high school, Fern. And I’ve watched more TV over the last four months than I was allowed to watch during my entire childhood. I’m not used to my personal life being of interest to anyone.” Mostly because I’d never had a personal life.

“You were sheltered, I know.” She gave me a sympathetic smile.

“I’m not completely ignorant.”

“I know.”

“I understand the dynamics of competition.”

“But you’re used to defined rules for competition.
All is fair in love and war
.”

I grimaced. “What should I do?”

“Nothing. Just be you. But don’t be surprised if some of the girls are-”

“Unfriendly?”

“Maybe. Maybe even friendlier than before. They’ll just be bitchy about it. Prepare yourself for lots of questions and judgment. Trust no one.”

Suddenly, I had heartburn. “That sounds lonely.”

She shrugged. “Girls are mean.”

“Not all girls.”

“No, not all girls.” She gave me a resigned smile and added, “Just most girls.”

A knock on the door to our suite interrupted our conversation.

“Who is it?” Fern called, giving me a bracing look.

“Pizza,” came a muffled male reply.

Fern and I exchanged questioning glances as she stood. “What? Pizza?”

“Mail,” another muffled response, followed quickly by, “Candygram.”

Comprehension claimed her features and she pressed her lips together, trying not to smile, and called back, “Go away. We want no land sharks here.”

Confused, I mouthed the words
land sharks?
at her.

She rolled her eyes, “It’s from Saturday Night Live. There’s this shark at the door to the Weekend Update desk, and he…” she tossed her hands in the air and moved to the door. I heard her unlock it; I hadn’t realized it was locked. “Never mind. I’ll just get my hands on some old episodes.”

She pulled the suite door open and stepped back, motioning for whoever it was to enter. “Enter. She’s all yours.”

Greg sauntered into the room, grinning at Fern and looking delectable. “Thanks, Fern. You’re a pal.”

I sat straighter, a spike of awareness passing through me like a shock, arresting my breath for a span of five seconds and tightening my throat. His eyes moved to me and his grin wavered. We watched each other for… I honestly don’t know how long.

“
Riiiight
,” Fern’s elongated word pulled me out of my stupor, “I’m going to
go
so you two can have uninterrupted eye-sex
.
”

Greg and I spoke over each other.

“You don’t have to leave,” I said.

“Don’t let me keep you,” he said.

Fern rolled her eyes again and chuckled.

I gave Greg a disapproving frown. “Where will you go? It’s supposed to snow all day.”

“I’ll be back before it gets dark,” she said, waving away my concern and grabbing her bag. “We’re supposed to get ten inches overnight.”

Greg opened the door for Fern and mumbled under his breath, “I might give Fiona ten inches this afternoon, if she plays her cards right.”

Um… hello!

Both Fern and I gaped at him, wearing mirrored expressions of shock, and the suite plunged into dead quiet for a protracted moment. But then Fern threw her head back and burst out laughing. Greg’s shoulders also shook with silent laughter, giving me a look that was both apologetic and unrepentant.

I didn’t laugh. I lowered my eyes to the brown carpet and proceeded to turn bright red. My cheeks were flaming because:

Naked Greg.

Naked me.

Bed.

Floor.

Desk.

Mouth.

Hands.

Hot breath.

Ten inches.

I was… overwhelmed with visual imagery. The charged atmosphere between us persisted. Visual imagery plus charged atmosphere made me hot. Which made me embarrassed and unsteady. Which made me turn red.

I forced myself to smile, but it was weak; I needed a minute. “Let me go grab some snacks, I’ll be right back.”

I knew his eyes were on me because I could feel the weight of them as I left. I paced to my mini fridge and opened it, grabbed a can of Coke and pressed it to my neck, telling myself I was ridiculous. It was a joke, just a joke. I may have been inexperienced but I wasn’t a prude.

I was… caught unawares,
I reasoned.
I’ll be ready next time. I’ll be bold.

I knew when Fern departed because I heard their murmured conversation come to an end, punctuated by the closing of the suite door. I put the Coke back on the shelf and inspected the fridge, distracting myself with its contents and hoping the cold air would help cool me down. 

My back was to the entrance of the room and I was absorbed in
not
thinking about Greg’s alleged ten inches, so I started when I heard the door to my room close. I turned my head and found Greg leaning against it, looking at me.

I gave him a tight smile. “Are you hungry?”

He paused, like a witty retort was on the tip of his tongue, but must’ve thought better of it because he shook his head, saying nothing.

The charged atmosphere grew tenfold, was positively electric.

I managed to swallow and straighten from the fridge, closing it as I stood and saying honestly, “It’s good to see you.”

His answering genuine smile made my heart thunder. Why was I so nervous? I told myself to calm down.

Greg stepped away from the door. He made a small circle, glancing around the room and paying special attention to my half. At length he declared, “So this is your room.”

“Yes. This is my room.”

He gestured to the walls. “You have no posters up.”

“Correct.” I was happy to be discussing a topic as benign as posters.

Greg surveyed me. “Why don’t you have any posters?”

“I guess I haven’t found any that I want to look at every day.” My attention flickered to Dara’s side, to her ten or more posters and pictures wallpapering the plain white paint. I hadn’t noticed how bare my side looked in comparison.

“Interesting. What’s this?” He picked up the book on my nightstand, a practical pictorial guide to mixed martial arts, and flipped through it. “Are you interested in martial arts?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to beat me up?” He gave me a sideways glance.

“Not unless you give me a reason.” I crossed to him and took the book out of his hands, setting it back on the table. “Are you going to go through all my things?”