Stars (Penmore #1)

by Malorie Verdant

  Although some—read: Keeley and Nate—might say I’ve been wearing my rebel outfit too much. This is the first time in the past three weeks I’ve actually left the dorm for something other than classes or work.

  Keeley was super upset when I didn’t go with her to the first football game of the season. Mostly, she was frustrated she didn’t have someone to report to her what was happening on the field while she checked out the hot male talent in the stands. Thankfully, she was able to skip the lines and get free entry into Lucky’s after the game, because of my connections, which had filled with nearly the entire football team celebrating their first win. I was thus forgiven for my Saturday indiscretion, even if I was warned that she would have a conniption if I didn’t go to the next one with her.

  I knew I should be going out, and that my cute new electric blue dress needed to be seen by more than the moths in my wardrobe. It was still hard to motivate myself to do anything exciting. I probably wouldn’t have even agreed to Nate’s suggestion to visit the intimate little Italian hideaway if he hadn’t bribed me with talking to Marissa about less weekday shifts and more game days. I really preferred to do my school assignments in the evenings rather than trying to manage them on my weekends. If she changed my shifts, I could finally geek out every evening like I was used to; rather than hiding from hot men and trying to dance while serving drinks.

  Of course, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to bust Nate’s balls for finally dragging me away from Netflix and my latest assignment. “Sure you aren’t trying to get into my pants?” I ask, directing the conversation to a topic I know will make me laugh. I can’t help but giggle when Nate puts his menu down to place his hand over his heart and give me his practiced puppy dog eyes.

  “This is what is wrong with the world. A guy can’t take a girl out to dinner without his intentions being questioned. It hurts me, Parky, that you think so low of me,” he replies, making his eyes glisten.

  Always the Drama major.

  “So, you didn’t sleep with the last girl you took here?” I ask cheekily.

  I already knew the answer. If I have learned anything from my time at Penmore, it’s that Nate Waters is a player and I was the only girl he wasn’t trying to sleep with. And to think I used to believe that Grayson was bad with the girls always falling at his feet.

  He had nothing on his playboy brother.

  “Hmm, okay. So the last person I brought here was Taylah-Anne. Oh. Then yeah, I definitely fucked the last girl I brought here. But seriously, she is the president of the yoga club. Parky, I’m pretty sure I would have had to hand my man card in if I hadn’t encouraged her to show me her moves.”

  “And did she teach you a few things?” I ask, trying to contain my laughter.

  “Sadly, I think it was my lack of interest in yoga that ended our budding romance,” he replies, again with dramatic flair, as if heartbroken over the demise of his one-time hook-up.

  “Okay, so what’s good here?” I change the subject, ignoring his continued theatrics to focus on the menu.

  “The restroom in the back. It’s huge and easily fits three people.”

  I give him one of my what-the-fuck looks that I have perfected since living with Keeley.

  “Oh, you’re referring to the food,” he says smoothly. “I’m a traditionalist, so I always go for pizza.”

  “Okay, pizza it is. Although, when Marissa complains about me no longer fitting into her uniform, I’m throwing you under the bus,” I say, deciding I was going to love Francesca’s Ristorante. I was already charmed by the restaurant’s little tables, which looked like they belonged on cobbled streets. The red velvet drapes that hung heavily over every large window reminded me of the one’s at the vintage cinemas I cherished back home.

  But when the waiter drops complimentary little garlic bread balls on our table, I know I’m head-over-heels for the place. If they have chocolate cake, I might just Google if someone can marry a restaurant; I could easily promise to love, honor and over-pay for garlic bread balls and good chocolate cake.

  “Oh yeah, I’m sure she’ll be so angry if you make your ass bigger in those pants. Definitely tell her it was all me. I’ll probably get a raise,” says Nate, his mouth filled with bread.

  I decide to ignore his statement, as I never know what to do with anything that even slightly resembles a compliment. Instead, I figure I’ll stick to talking about things I know. “So, how’s school?”

  “Actually, pretty good. Never hurts that every time I’m on campus everyone thinks I’m the king of football.”

  “And you, of course, never correct them.”

  “And lose my adoring fans? Never. The coffee cart girl gave me a free coffee the other day.”

  “Seriously?” I ask, staring at Nate with disbelief.

  I really shouldn’t be that shocked, having watched all through high school how girls throw themselves at Grayson. But I am. I figured college girls would be a little different. I guess I thought they would be more like me. Too shy to be so forward. Too meek to offer themselves like prized cattle.

  “Yep. Apparently, my younger brother doesn’t need to pay for coffee. Or anything else on campus for that matter.”

  “Which, of course, means you don’t pay for coffee. Or anything else on campus.”

  “I wouldn’t want to hurt the poor girl’s feelings by rejecting her goods.”

  I can’t help but giggle at the way Nate is benefiting from his brother’s success. “You are priceless.”

  “And for everything else, but coffee girl’s coffee, I plan to use my MasterCard. Anyway, while we’re on the topic of my beloved brother, I don’t suppose you’ve seen him in class yet?”

  “He’s meant to be in my sociology class. They call his name when they take attendance, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

  “And how are we handling this?” Nate questions carefully.

  I wasn’t surprised he asked. I knew it was a matter of time before he would be curious about whether I was still watching Grayson. A few shifts ago, I thought I spotted him in the crowd and totally scurried and hid behind the bar.

  Just for future reference, scurrying in six-inch heels around a nightclub, especially one that has a drink or two spilled on its floor isn’t a great idea. There is nothing subtle or unassuming about that action.

  Thankfully, it turned out not to be him. Another false alarm.

  But my ridiculous actions did not go unnoticed by Nate. So of course, he wouldn’t stop grilling me every shift until I finally gave him the story of my life. My hopeless, unrequited love story that started with a baby-crush, which was followed by an unsuccessful introduction, then stealthy admiration from afar, and continues to involve my sad need to be in close proximity to his smiles. Somehow, I had managed to keep my secret from Millie for years, but since coming to Penmore everything seems to be unraveling. I guess I could no longer blame my dad for my weird behavior.

  Deep down, I think Millie probably knew I had a crush on Grayson. She never once mentioned hypothetically dating someone on the football team as she sprawled across my bed during high school. Not to mention the bizarre looks she always gave me when I would shut my drapes quickly if she joined me in my room. The amount of people now aware of my pathetic-ness at Penmore, however, was getting ridiculous.

  “I’m okay. Apparently, driving hundreds of miles to be in the same town means I don’t need to see him daily anymore.”

  “Sure you don’t. But no one would blame you for needing to see him. He is unbelievably good-looking.”

  “You’re complementing yourself again, aren’t you?”

  “Moi? Of course not. I was, however, thinking about maybe moving into the ground-floor apartment of my complex. Just in case you began suffering withdrawals and needed to watch me through my window.”

  “You are hilarious,” I reply sarcastically.

  “No? You don’t want to watch me? Parky, I’m a little hurt by that. But on a serious note, future-sister-in-law, I think maybe
you should go talk to him in your next class. You talk to me just fine, and he doesn’t even have my piercing green eyes.”

  “Oh, good, pizza is here. Let’s just drop it, okay? You know I prefer to be in the background.”

  “Parky, one day you’re going to realize that you don’t belong in the background. Also, I know there is no way little brother would be wasting time with Marissa if he thought he had a shot at you.”

  “Unfortunately, you’ll never know or get to say ‘I told you so’, because there is no way I’m going to ever talk to him. Now, eat your pizza, Casanova.”

  PARKER

  My favorite day of the week was Tuesday. The day when I could arrive to class early, before others had a chance to forget pencils and chip packets, and sit by myself amongst the rows of clean, empty chairs. Like church pillars, each timber chair faced toward the pristine whiteboard, where a portly gentlemen would soon stand and captivate his congregation. It was always quiet and peaceful in the minutes before everyone arrived. Since my first lesson in this hall, this room had slowly become my sanctuary. A place that allowed me to worship shared knowledge and wisdom, to feel utterly at peace. It was the first place on campus I have found that didn’t leave me feeling lacking. Since starting at Penmore, even though I told myself I was going to embrace who I’m meant to be, I’ve slowly been trying new things and transforming into someone I barely recognize. My new job means that instead of hiding behind my school work, I’m actually making more friends and building my confidence; sharing parts of myself that I’ve never shared before.

  Keeley taught me how to use my straightener to carefully curl my long, frizzy brown hair. With all my new clothes, and learning how to style my hair, I almost feel and look like a different person. As exciting as that was at first, this grand lecture hall reminds me that a big part of who I am doesn’t have anything to do with my looks. I’m still the same girl who would rather read and study than get my nails done. A girl with a thirst for knowledge and a dream of becoming a doctor.

  It only takes a few minutes before the grandest lecture hall in Penmore is filled with people today. My lips twitch as I watch them yawning and trying to balance their hot coffees and pastries while maneuvering through the crowd to locate their seats. I’m sitting in the middle of the back row today; granted I usually sit in the back of all my classes every day. It allows me to see the entire whiteboard and silently observe the actions of others. And yeah okay, maybe I knew Grayson was always meant to be in this class, which meant I often hid at the back as a defensive reflex. Not that he had ever bothered to show up. I’ve even dropped my guard a little, given up on catching glimpses of him on campus between classes and needing to hide in the shadows. Forgotten all about that first frat party. It was as if he didn’t attend Penmore at all.

  My discreet surveillance of the other students comes to an end the moment the professor sets his bag down and turns to the front of the class. It never took long, sitting in my favorite place, before I was completely engrossed in Professor Gibbons’s discussions. Today, he was chatting animatedly on ethnocentrism and the way glorifying the achievements of our own nation in comparison to others might hinder our society. I was so captivated by his hand gestures and changing tones that I didn’t feel my shoulder brush against another student’s as they sat in the empty seat beside me.

  It wasn’t until Professor Gibbons started comparing ethnocentric biases with football team spirit, causing the student beside me to laugh, that I lost my unwavering focus and noticed I had company. Now in hindsight, I wish I had just looked at who was sitting beside me through my peripheral vision. I am sure the very reason we have peripheral vision is for occasions just like this. Okay, and maybe for when you’re trying to sneak in a midnight snack and need to ensure not even the shadows can see how much leftover chocolate cake you just inhaled. Unfortunately, I twisted my entire body to check out my new neighbor and had a holy-shit-freak-out moment.

  I was close.

  Like smell-your-cologne close.

  To Grayson fucking Waters.

  He must have arrived late and decided to hide in the back row. I had never been this close to Grayson. When I was seven, I had stood easily nine feet away from him before I had run away. I also seriously doubt that at eight he had smelled this amazing. An intoxicating mix of nutmeg, cinnamon and musk. So, of course, instead of sitting calmly and trying to breathe in as much of his amazing aroma as I can, I try to make a run for it like I was still that seven year old little girl.

  Yep, people think I’m intelligent, but when faced with remaining in close proximity to a boy I have lusted after from afar, I decide immediate impulsive action is required. And foolishly choose to try and grab my handbag faster than humanly possible, leap across other people at the end of our row and head directly toward the exit.

  Only there are two problems with my rash behavior.

  Firstly, when you suddenly jump to your feet, everyone in the lecture hall looks at you.

  Secondly, when I get nervous, I become a total klutz.

  So, instead of leaping over people, I trip over some girl’s purse strap on the floor and slam head-first into the hall’s steps leading to the exit.

  With everyone watching.

  Fuck, it hurts.

  I roll over and decide that I really should jump to my feet and get out of here before I embarrass myself further. Although, it might have to be in a couple of minutes, when the room stops spinning.

  “Shit, you okay? You hit your head hard. Are you seeing stars?”

  Oh my God. Grayson Waters is no longer sitting beside me. He must have followed me.

  Grayson Waters is now leaning over me and checking me for injuries. And by checking, I mean touching me.

  Grayson Waters is touching me.

  Skin on skin. Hard on smooth.

  No. No. No. This can’t be happening.

  His rough but warm hands slowly sweep my brown hair away from my forehead and lightly feel for bumps.

  “Um, yes. I mean no.”

  “Are you confused? Sometimes, when guys on the team have concussions, they get confused. They struggle to process information.” Then he pauses, flashes me his dimple and asks, “Or do you normally talk like this? “

  Grayson Waters just asked me a question.

  And is smiling at me, my favorite smile.

  And looking at me. He is making very focused and intense eye contact with me.

  Shit. Grayson Waters is also asking me questions and waiting for me to respond. And I’m just gawking at his smile and staring into his ocean-blue eyes. Damn it, I should have practiced this in the mirror.

  “Um, yes. I mean, I think so.”

  “So, do I need to call an ambulance?” he asks.

  “Maybe just the morgue. Pretty sure everyone is staring and I’m dying from embarrassment.”

  He chuckles. Grayson Waters just chuckled at me. He probably thought I was joking.

  “Maybe they’re seeing stars. I’m a little dazzled myself.”

  I totally did not understand that. I’m not the star. He’s the star. Thankfully, before I can reply, he offers his hand and helps pull me up. As soon as I’m standing, everyone else stops watching us like we’re a reality TV show and resumes watching Professor Gibbons. Who apparently doesn’t feel the need to check on one of his injured students when the quarterback for the football team gives him a nod. I figure I’ll be irritated by that fact when my head isn’t pounding and I’m not facing the boy of my dreams.

  “Thanks for your help,” I say softly then swiftly collect my fallen belongings to make my way through the exit. I was ready to take a breath of relief after entering the quad when Grayson Waters strides up beside me.

  “Hey, Stars, have we met before?” he asks as he falls into step beside me.

  “Um, Stars?” I timidly query.

  “Thought Stars would be better than Stairs,” he says through soft laughter. “So, have I seen you at one of the games or parties?”

  �
��Nope. Definitely not. I just have one of those faces.”

  “Babe, you definitely do not have one of those faces.”

  “Um, thanks, I guess. Anyway, I would love to stay and chat, but I have work tonight so I should probably get going. Thank you again for helping me before.” All right, so work didn’t start for another nine hours, but he didn’t know that.

  “Cool. I guess I’ll see you same time next week then. Bye, Stars.” He flashes his dimple at me one more time before heading toward the cafeteria.

  “Um, I guess so,” I reply, quickening my steps to carry me away from the horror of the past fifteen minutes and the very first conversation I had with a boy I’ve been watching for thirteen years. Holy hell, I just had an actual conversation with Grayson Waters and it wasn’t in a dream. Although, he still didn’t ask for my name.

  I really need to call Keeley. Or Nate. Or maybe I tell no one because there is no way that just really happened anywhere other than inside my head.

  GRAYSON

  I’ve been struggling to get to my classes this semester and go to training. If it weren’t for the school’s online system and most teachers uploading their lectures, my grades would probably be shit right now. As I make my way toward the cafeteria, I decide I am going to be making a big effort Tuesday mornings to get to class from now on. Damn, that girl looked good. Her long, chocolate locks spread out around her heart-shaped face with big, golden eyes widely staring up at me. I can’t help but grin, thinking about her timid actions. I love it when I make them nervous. When they don’t look at me like they know all about me and are prepared to eat me alive.

  Makes the game so much better when I have a chance to pursue them. Coax them out of their shell and out of their skin-tight jeans. I fucking hate it when girls on campus try and play me. When they start stripping before I even get a chance to touch a single button.

  D is sitting at one of the tables in the cafeteria when I walk in. I’m tossing up whether or not to mention the gorgeous brunette as I pull up a seat. I say anything about her and I know he’ll come up with some stupid excuse to attend class with me next week. I’ll be stuck watching him wink at her all lesson. And unlike the other girls I’ve been with, some part of me wants to keep her beautiful amber eyes to myself. “Still carb-loading?” I ask, chuckling at the fact that D is devouring what looks to be his fifth pudding.