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Chapter 4

Maybe there’s truth to the idea that one can sense someone’s stare. Because not ten seconds after I walked into the spacious yet crowded, lavishly decorated ballroom, my browsing came to a sudden halt when I saw him watching me from across the way. My blood began rushing in my ears. Or maybe it had been rushing before, but now as the entire room went mute, it was roaring.

With the protection of the space between us, I stared back at the tall, dark figure, taking all of him in, everyone around him suddenly falling into the shadows. I knew right then that I wouldn’t be able to imagine him with long hair anymore; his short buzzed hair made his features nearly overwhelming. Three years, short hair, and a tailored black suit transformed him into a man. He looked severely handsome. And it didn’t surprise me that he wore his suit with such casual ease, but it still had me breathless. Like always, he made every other guy around him seem weak and wanting.

It wasn’t his appearance that held my attention, however. It was the warm way he looked at me, suspicious and yet somehow devouring. The disarming look took my breath away. Overcome by the moment, my eyes secured themselves to the floor.

But his look brought on a memory that exploded into my mind:

She was sitting on a couch at the college student center, her foot twitching in agitation.

“No, Nick,” she yelled, trusting the volume of her voice to hold back the smirk that threatened. “I won’t let Stacey get away with this. She is the nastiest classmate in the world! She’s a liar and a sneak. Someone has to tell Mr. Rowland that it wasn’t me, it was her.”

Heather went to get up again, but Nick palmed the top of her head and pushed it back toward the couch as if he were playing the ‘can’t-get-off-the-couch’ game with a child. It was the second time she landed sideways, and the second time she held herself from bursting into laughter. When she looked up, he was rubbing his thumb back and forth slowly across his bottom lip. Oh, there was nothing that irked her more than when he found her frustration amusing.

“Fine. I’ll let it go,” she said with a surrendering readjustment of her backside. “You’re right, it’s not a big deal.” She continued inching stealthily to the opposite end of the couch. “And I won’t be a little tattle tale,
like her
. And even though I’m totally in the right, I’ll let her win, again.”

He stared her down with a warm look, suspicious and yet somehow devouring. The look took her breath away.

She had to move quickly or be defeated, by his look alone. “Well, I better go. I’m late for class.”

He easily reached over and captured her head before she’d made it half way up. “Nice try, Ace,” he teased, thrusting her back toward the couch. “But your class doesn’t start for another half hour.”

Her fall was not graceful and she landed facedown across the expanse of the couch. The laughing attack finally surfaced, nearly causing drool to escape the side of her mouth. Thank goodness they were in an obscure hallway where few people passed.

“Okay, okay,” she gurgled, wiping her cheek while attempting to look lady-like. “You win.”

He stopped chuckling, reached for her, and pulled her into a standing position. “I’m not trying to win.” His hands went to her arms and he rubbed along the length of them to temper her amusement. “I’m preventing you from doing something you’ll regret.”

“I know,” she admitted, grinning back at him. “It’s just, I hate it when something isn’t fair. Justice should be served.”

“Until it’s
you
who’s on the other end. Then justice isn’t so great.”

Trying to listen to him wasn’t very easy with the way his fingertips were gliding along the side of her neck. “Don’t laugh,” she petitioned, “but if you’re going to say something that I have to think about, you can’t rub my neck at the same time.”

He laughed regardless. “I better get going,” he mumbled, hugging her into him, making no effort to leave.

If it were up to her, they’d run away to some remote island together. Lucky for their grades, he was the more practical type. And yet his class had started over ten minutes ago. But instead of supporting him, she pulled back and said the same sort of thing she did yesterday, and the day before that. “I think today would be a good day to skip class, don’t you? This might be the last sunny day for a long time, and didn’t you say you missed breakfast this morning? That’s not very healthy, you know. Why don’t we—”

He pressed his lips to hers.

It wasn’t until a guy cleared his throat behind them that they realized they weren’t alone. How anyone could spot them in such a secluded spot, Heather would never know.

“Are you planning on attending class sometime today?” The voice belonged to Peter, an architectural grad-student that was both a student-teacher for one of Nick’s classes, as well as a colleague. Nick didn’t stop coming onto her though, only waved his hand in a gesture for the guy to go away.

The silence told them they were alone again. “Do you really have to go to class today?” she questioned as his lips continued to trace a path around her jaw.

“Can you tell me why,” he breathed into her neck, “when I’m holding you like this,” he drew her in closer, wrapping her snugly against him, “and I’m kissing you like this,” he devoured the tender spot along her jaw, brazenly making his way to the corner of her lips, “it’s still never enough?”

She couldn’t help but grasp the front of his jacket, giggling, holding on as if to never let go.

“Because you’re crazy about me?” she suggested.

“Only one person has ever made me crazy,” he responded. “And yes, that happens to be you.”

And the memory was over.

When I glanced back across the ballroom, he was gone.

From what Liz and I remembered, he’d never seen me look so feminine. The white sundress I’d borrowed from her was modestly sexy, she’d styled my hair so there was shine and body to it, and she did my makeup soft and natural, “to enunciate my features” she had told me. The whole primping process had never been my thing like it was Liz’s, but I had to admit, she made me feel like a princess tonight. And I knew, without vanity, that my look would shock him.

More apprehensive than ever, yes; but willing to let that deter me, never!

I took a deep breath and then followed Peter to our assigned table, which was toward the front of the room.
Don’t look back
, I kept repeating to myself, doubtfully wondering if he was still watching me. I concentrated on getting to the table, allowing the soft buzz of conversations to hold me.

When we arrived at our table, a middle-aged couple was sitting next to a girl I assumed was both another grad student as well as their daughter since they were all chatting intimately together. Liz and I took our seats, me nervously squirming and Liz sharing a hasty smile with the other three at the table.

While both Creed and Peter took off their jackets and hooked them around their chairs, I rested my hands on the edge of the table and took a deep breath.

Eventually Liz whispered in my ear, “If looks could devour, you my friend were the main course just now.”

“You saw?” I whispered back.

Liz nodded, her eyes glistening.

“So?” I said excitedly.

“So,” Liz muttered back, “The outfit? A grand slam.”

I couldn’t stay there with her like I wanted to and analyze every little exchanged look because Creed had wrapped his arm around the back of my chair. “Heath?”

I turned into the crook of his body.

But it was Peter who spoke. “Sweetheart, you might want to put the napkin down before there’s nothing left of it.”

I had no idea what he was referring to until I looked down and noticed several various-sized pieces of torn black cocktail napkin on my plate and in my lap.

“She’s making confetti,” Creed defended. “It’s a party, isn’t it?”

At first I stared dumbly at Creed. Then I released my fingers from the mutilated black napkin and swiftly began cleaning the mess. The older man and his grad-student daughter were staring at me like I was a mental case. The mom seemed a little less judgmental, looking away and pretending not to notice the scattered black shreds on the table. Liz must’ve caught the looks I was receiving, because her hand went to her mouth. Unfortunately, the nose laugh came like a rake across concrete. That rattled my nerves even more and consequently got me started. And Creed was never one to be left out of a good laugh. Fortunately, we weren’t raucous enough for more than our table and a few people nearby to hear. And there were worse things a person could do than shred their cocktail napkin and break out in nervous laughter in front of a few strangers, right? Even if the three onlookers were likely thinking we were a bunch of loonies who decided to crash the party.

Though their opinions weren’t of much concern, I knew I needed to get control of myself. Nick could be watching at any moment. And I would at least have to act half sane.

After a few last little giggles, Liz and I righted ourselves and I curved toward Creed. “Fine, I might be a little uneasy,” I admitted. He leaned into me and put a comforting hand on my knee while I gathered the remaining napkin pieces and quickly tossed them under the table. I didn’t bother explaining my confession to Peter and Liz since I suspected Peter knew the whole story, and Liz definitely knew.

“Thanks,” I said while looking up at Creed, forcing my stressed face into a smile.

“For what?”

“Coming with me.”

Creed leaned in even further and gave me a light kiss on the cheek, a habit he’d taken up since I’d been out of the hospital. He grinned, nodding his head toward the family across the table. “I think you’re making them uncomfortable. That girl keeps staring at you.”

Now that he’d mentioned it, he was right; the girl hadn’t stopped staring at me. She was still staring at me.

I felt a sudden tug on my arm and turned to Liz. Liz’s eyes were beyond and she whispered quickly, “Incoming.”

My face must have turned an off-shade because Liz began staring into my face as if helping me to breathe.

I turned just as he approached the table.

Hi,” he said, and I beamed. He would never know how much that meant to me, for him to go out of his way and greet us, without
her
. The thoughtfulness was instantly written on my heart. I was angled upward and leaning over my chair, watching his every move, eating every word, eager to see what he’d share next. A compliment? Another devouring look?

But nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

Nick made his way to the opposite side of the table by the girl who kept staring, and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Everyone’s met?”

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

First, we had not met. Second, the couple was not her parents. The man was a board professor in the architectural department of the college and the middle-aged woman beside him was his wife. Third, the girl was not their daughter or a grad-student, she was the fiancé.

After all the introductions were given—me, by some merciful miracle, avoiding so much as one word in the process—Nick finally let go of the girl’s shoulders and took his seat in between her and Peter.

Though I tried to fight it and though I knew it was my own fault for thinking she’d be parading around somewhere else or at home with the flu instead of sitting right by me, my mood flared—surely a result of the slap in the face—and I turned it on the one person closest to me.

“How did we all get sat at the same table?” I asked through clenched teeth in Liz’s direction.

“I think there were numbers at the bottom of the invitations. That’s how Peter knew which table to go to,” she whispered back. “Evidently the invited guests sit with their invitees?”

“But Nick didn’t invite
you
guys—”

“Peter mentioned he arranged for us to sit by you,” she cut in quickly.

I pierced her with a razor-sharp look.

She jerked her head in a few quick shakes. “I didn’t recognize her, I didn’t know,” she quietly exclaimed.

After the harried conversation with Liz, I noticed Nick examining our side of the table as if puzzling what to make of us. His eyes stopped on Creed and studied him with mild interest, however briefly.

I found my eyes, on the other hand, trying to avoid the girl, attempting to identify the feelings brewing inside me. The emotions were immediate, like a covetous ghost invading my body, cutting its way into my flesh. It was naked jealousy, an emotion I wasn’t used to, and one I didn’t like. I knew immediately I would have to get out of there as soon as possible, before my thoughts translated to words and ruined the entire night.

Now that I decided to see her, I sourly admitted that the girl had some noticeable qualities. Her natural blonde hair—the sun-kissed color most bottle-blondes would die for—was rolled into a perfect French twist with not a hair out of place. Her manicured nails were of moderate length and painted in some light shade. She was long and lean like me, but unlike me, had curves in all the right places; though I was pretty sure she wasn’t born that way. Anyone could tell she came from money.