Promise (3 page)

Wow. Beautiful
. That was all I could
think through the haze filling my brain. I never understood how a
guy could be considered beautiful until now. He was stunningly
attractive like Mom was—beyond what should be allowed for any
human.

His eyes held mine until I finally came to my
senses and pulled away. Mr. Beautiful smiled as I slid my eyes to
the front of the room. And then it hit me.
Oh, no! Why me?!
I had barely glanced at him the first time, but I knew without a
doubt: he was the same guy I'd run into like an idiot less than
five minutes ago. Apparently, he recognized me, too, and found it
funny. I wished one of my quirks was the ability to disappear.

"Most of your projects will be done as
teams," the professor droned. "You'll be with the same team
throughout the semester. Your team number is in the upper-right
corner of the first page of your syllabus. Your first project is
due next week, so get into your groups now to make introductions
and get started."

The professor was the type high-school
students fretted about when they thought of college—demanding,
commanding, condescending, anal-retentive. He was nothing like my
other instructors. My calculus teacher would make the subject
bearable because at night he was a stand-up comedian and my women's
studies instructor was the eccentric cat-woman. Not the superhero,
but the crazy, old maid who lived with a bunch of cats.

Based on Mr. Anal's instructions of where
teams should gather, I didn't have to move. Two girls—one a cute,
girl-next-door blonde and the other a scowling, black-haired
Goth—and two guys joined me in our designated section of the
room.

Including Mr. Beautiful.

Of course. Just my luck.

He was the last to join us, after switching
his syllabus with one on an empty desk—he wanted to be in our
group. I figured he knew somebody. When he headed our way, his
athletic build straining against his shirt, even Ms. Grumpy Goth
straightened up and smiled slightly. But then I caught a quick, but
odd reaction from the other three and I knew immediately he hadn't
chosen our group because he knew anyone.

Mr. Beautiful nodded at each of us as he took
a seat and the others shrunk back slightly. A look of fear, or
maybe just astonishment, flickered in their eyes. A slight smile
played on his lips when he looked at me last. I couldn't figure out
what the others saw because I didn't notice anything. Of course, I
did notice
something
, but nothing warranting
that
kind of reaction. My sense remained quiet.

Then I realized there
was
something—a
strange nudge in the back of my mind. There was something different
but unidentifiable about him. I could barely introduce myself
before I zoned out through the other introductions and tried
unsuccessfully to figure out what the nudge meant.

During a break halfway through class, I
bought a soda and wandered outside. The hot, heavy air wasn't
exactly refreshing, but it was a nice break from the closed up,
conditioned air inside. The sun had officially set and the sky was
still a pinkish-purple in the west, the tops of two palm trees
silhouetted against it. A couple people sat on the top step,
talking. I walked down the stairs and leaned against a lamppost,
sipping my drink.

"Alexis, right?" a silky, sexy voice asked
behind me, making me jump and slosh soda over my hand. I turned to
see Mr. Beautiful. Of course he would sound lovely. I already knew
he smelled good, too.
Yep
. He strode over to me and I could
really take in the scents.
Sweet mangos and papayas, citrusy
lime, sage…and, of course, that hint of man
. I could tell it
was natural—it didn't have the chemical undertone like cologne or
soaps did. It was a fresh fragrance, making me think of sitting in
the sun on a warm day.

"Uh, yeah." The lamp over us cast its light
directly on his spellbinding face. He took my breath away and made
my mind foggy.

It wasn't right for a guy to be so incredibly
attractive. Besides how tall he stood—towering at least a foot over
my five-two—I noticed his hazel eyes first. They pulled me into
their staggering beauty, with a wide ring of emerald green on the
outside of the irises and brown around the pupils with gold specks
that seemed to…
sparkle
. They were fringed with such long,
dark lashes that it was unfair they were on a guy. His facial
features were flawless—a square jaw, full lips and a golden
suntan—better than any movie star or model. Sandy brown hair,
longer on top and streaked by the sun, topped off his perfection.
And then he smiled magnificently and the gold flecks in his eyes
sparkled brighter, like when the sun hits gold flakes in a mining
pan. My brain slid out the exit door and my insides melted.
Get
a grip!

I tried to remember his name. He had to have
introduced himself to the team. I must have been really focused on
that mind nudge, because I drew a blank.

"I'm Tristan…in case you didn't catch
it."

I nodded as if I knew. "Yeah, nice to meet
you, Tristan. Sorry about running into you."

"I'm not," he murmured so quietly, I probably
wasn't supposed to have heard.

We both stood there awkwardly…well,
I
felt awkward, anyway. I expected him to leave, but, strangely, he
didn't.

"So…how was your first day of classes?" he
finally asked.

I looked up at him in surprise.
Why are
you talking to me? No one talks to me.

"Uh, fine, I guess. You?"

"This is my only class today and, so far,
it's perfect." He chuckled, as if there were some underlying
meaning to his answer.

"Lucky. This is my third."

"Busy day." Another moment of awkward silence
passed before he continued, probably thinking it rude to walk off
now. "This is my only class this semester, actually. Too much other
stuff going on to take a full load right now."

I told him I could relate and, for some
reason, babbled through my entire schedule, my hand flitting
anxiously between twirling the tab of my soda can and tugging at my
hair.

"Women's studies, huh?" He lifted an eyebrow,
a gleam in his eyes. "Maybe I should look into that one.
Sounds…interesting."

I laughed. It sounded unusually high,
anxious. "It's almost all girls…but I'm sure they wouldn't kick
you
out."

Did I really just say that aloud?
I
blushed. He laughed, the pleasurable sound making my heart
flip.

I struggled to concentrate through the rest
of class, replaying the five-minute conversation with Tristan and
silently chastising myself for acting like an airhead.

"Which dorm are you in?" the blond
girl-next-door asked me after class. I thought someone called her
Carlie.

"Oh, I live off campus, with my…" Oops,
almost said Mom. I was out of practice. "…with my sister."

"Oh, too bad." She sounded genuinely
disappointed. "I thought we could walk back together, maybe hang
out. I'll see you Wednesday afternoon for our team meeting."

"Yeah, see you then." I thought maybe college
was different than high school. People were actually friendly.

As soon as she left, prickles of fear trailed
down my spine. I realized I'd have to walk to my car alone, in the
dark, and that scared the crap out of me. It felt like the
opportune time and place for another attack. My attackers probably
didn't even know where I lived now, but I had no guarantees. They
found me once. I was sure they could find me again.

I stuffed my books in my bag and retrieved my
keys. I gripped them with their points jutting between my fingers
to use as a weapon, clutched the bag's strap in my other hand and
took a deep breath.

"I'll walk you out to the parking lot,"
Tristan offered, slinging his own bag over his shoulder. "You
shouldn't be alone on campus at night."

I exhaled with relief. "That'd be great."

Though I'd just met him, I felt safe with
Tristan. Not that I wanted him or anyone else involved, but I hoped
those strangers wouldn't try to attack with other people
around—real people, not boys with little pocket knives.

As we walked in silence, I wondered what was
wrong with him. There had to be something because he paid attention
to me. Of course, I was usually the one avoiding everyone else,
only because I knew there would be a negative reaction at some
point. But Tristan …I didn't
want
to avoid him. Something
inside me seemed to click with him already.

I knew I was making a mistake, setting myself
up for disappointment…or worse. Guys who even had a fraction of his
looks could pick any girl, throw her a bone and she'd do anything
for him—like his homework. That was the only reason they talked to
freaks like me…unless they thought we were an easy score. I didn't
want to think that way about Tristan, though. It wasn't fair. But
if either were true, he'd be the one disappointed. For now, I'd
give him the benefit of the doubt and pretend like it was perfectly
normal for him to be talking to me. Again.

"So you live close by?" he asked.

"Yeah. Cape Heron, with my sister, Sophia.
She bought a bookstore."
Why am I telling him all this?

"The Book Nook? The one on Fifth?"

"Yeah, you know it?"

"I live in the Cape, too. I noticed it was
re-opening soon."

"In a month or so. It's been closed for over
a year, so it's needed a lot of work."

"Let me know if she needs any help. I'm good
with my hands." He waved his hands in emphasis.

I tried not to think about what his hands may
be good at. It made me giddy.

I was glad she'd already hired someone.
Mr. Beautiful around Mom?
They might meet at some point,
considering we had several team projects over the semester and he
lived near the bookstore. I thought I would kill her if she didn't
make it clear that she's not interested. Although he couldn't
possibly be interested in me, I didn't think I could stand for him
to date her…
to be my mother's boyfriend. Ugh!

"I'm taking a gamble here, but I'd say that's
your ride?"

Besides a motorcycle, my 15-year-old, white
VW convertible was the only vehicle in the parking lot. The other
classes must have let out early for the first night. He walked me
to my car.

"Guess I'll see you Wednesday?" he asked as I
opened the door and dropped my bag on the back seat.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Be careful." He paused, then added, "Driving
home, I mean."

"Um, you, too." I eyed the shiny motorcycle.
I didn't know what kind it was, but it definitely wasn't a
Harley-Davidson, the only kind I really knew. It looked more like a
racing bike, the kind seen screaming down the highway at ninety
miles an hour, the rider hunched over the handlebars, dangerously
weaving around traffic. He had a risky side. Maybe that's what the
mind-nudge detected.

"You don't like bikes?"

"I like Harleys." I hoped that didn't offend
him, if it was a Chevy-versus-Ford kind of thing.

He chuckled. "My other one is a Harley."

My eyes widened. "Your
other
one?"

"I like toys." He shrugged with a grin. "See
you Wednesday."

I sat in my car and watched him walk away in
my rearview mirror. About halfway across the parking lot, his whole
body seemed to shift, to relax. I hadn't even noticed he was
tense—he'd seemed so cool and casual. I wondered what made him
anxious. Surely someone like him couldn't be nervous talking to
someone like me. As he fired up the bike, he glanced over at my car
and I started my own engine so he wouldn't think something was
wrong.
Don't mind me. Just ogling.

Wednesday morning I rushed again, this time
to my women's studies class. It was the last place I wanted to be,
so I took my time getting to campus and now I was running late.
Why did I take this stupid class anyway?
Tuesday had been a
productive day for writing. Going to this silly class now seemed
like a waste of a valuable hour. It would be a long day on campus,
too, with the team meeting in the afternoon.

I walked into class right at 9:30, but it
hadn't started yet. A low thrum of chatter among the students
filled the room. Not all were female; there were three guys.
No…four today
. My mouth nearly dropped open. Tristan sat at
the back of the class, talking to a couple of girls. He put his arm
across the desk next to him and shook his head, saving the seat for
someone. I wondered who the lucky girl was as I headed to an open
desk.

I retrieved my books from my bag when he
caught my eye and grinned. He nodded at the desk next to him and
winked. I stared at him, a dense fog filling my brain. When I shook
my head to clear it, he pushed his bottom lip out and gave me sad
eyes. A small giggle burst through my lips. Before my brain
registered that I moved, I was already back there.

"
What
are you doing here?" I
whispered.

"I told you, it sounded interesting, so I
picked up the class. Maybe I'll learn something." The smile he
flashed caused my heart to flip. He was good at making my heart do
gymnastics.

"I'm sure it's not what you're thinking."

"Do you really think I enrolled in a class
without knowing what it was? Give me a little credit, please," he
teased, holding up a syllabus.

"Sorry. It just doesn't seem like the type of
thing you'd be interested in. I feel like it's a waste of time and
I'm
a woman."

"Hmm…maybe I can make it interesting for
you."

I lifted my eyebrows.
What does that
mean?
He smiled and nodded at the front of the room. The
instructor started class. I tried to focus on her, but my eyes
wanted to pull to my right. Sitting next to Tristan in class was
like driving down a highway parallel to a breathtaking landscape—I
knew I should keep my eyes straight forward, but they kept drifting
to the side to enjoy the view.