SOFT SHOCK
By: Nicole Green
Cover by Cheryl of CCR Cover Design
Chapter One
Marci expected a rough day when she woke up that morning, but there was no way she could’ve prepared for being a victim of a bike-and-run before the day even got started good. Well, without the run.
As she hurried down the sidewalk, Marci mentally prepped for her presentation, rehearsing the main points she wanted to make in her head.
Until she wasn’t.
She was paying little attention to oncoming traffic. Not that she expected any oncoming traffic on the sidewalk.
By the time she heard a voice shout, “Watch out!” it was too late. She barely had time to glance up and think, why don’t bikers understand that sidewalks are not for them? before the front tire of a bike connected with her shin. She staggered backward as the bike toppled over and the rider tumbled forward. Letting the books go, she tried to save the coffee cup for many reasons.
She was going down. At some point during the collision, the coffee cup lid had loosened, and when she tried to get a better grip on it, it came off all the way. The biker’s elbow knocked into her forearm as she finished her fall to the ground, and that was it for the coffee. Scalding hot coffee went all down the front of her white blouse. Scalding. Hot.
She screamed out in pain, effectively drowning out the biker’s apologies. Throwing the coffee cup down and pushing at his arms, she screamed, “Get away!”
He scrambled to his feet and reached for her hand. “Jesus. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. I didn’t see you until it was too late.”
Marci pulled herself to her feet without his help and grabbed at the front of her shirt, wondering if you could get third degree burns from hot coffee. Finally, she looked up into the culprit’s face. She was taken aback for a moment by his wide gray eyes and beautiful face. The thought that he was quite possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in real life flitted through her mind. However, all thought was quickly replaced by the throbbing, burning sensation in her chest. She saw his tanned face through a cloud of pain.
“You should watch where you’re going,” she hissed through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to scream. She was going to get over this pain. It wasn’t going to come between her and her presentation.
He ran a hand through his dark blond wavy hair, lifting it momentarily from his forehead. “I was running late.”
“Now we both are.” She started to bend and pick up her books, but her chest put the brakes on that idea. Biker boy bent and retrieved her things.
“I really am sorry. I’m going to buy you a new shirt. But before that, let me take you to student health to get checked out.”
“In what?” She smirked at his bike.
“We’ll walk.” He shifted her books from one hip to the other.
“That’s okay.” She took a deep breath, trying to will away the pain. “I really have to get to class. I have a big project due. Huge.” Half her grade huge. It didn’t hurt so much now. Not as long as she didn’t breathe too much.
“But you could really be hurt.”
She had to look up to meet his gaze. He had to be well over six feet. She’d always had a thing for tall guys.
“I feel fine,” Marci lied. Lied, lied, lied. Her chest was burning. One thing was for sure, though. She wouldn’t feel fine at all if she didn’t give this presentation.
He shook his head. “I’d feel awful if you got even more injured because of me. I already feel badly enough that I ran into you.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Let’s make sure it’s nothing.”
Marci reached forward for her books and groaned in pain. Her chest was not cooperating. Even if she could make it to class, she probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate well enough to give a presentation on tying shoes much less on right to work laws in the American South and Midwest.
He held her books firmly at his side and said, “It’s probably a ten minute walk. Do you think you can make it? Or should we take the bus?”
“I know where student health is,” she muttered from between clenched teeth and headed down the sidewalk. She was already running way behind. She didn’t have time to wait for a bus, pain or no pain.
He followed her. “My name’s Owen, by the way.”
She nodded to acknowledge that she’d heard him.
“What’s yours?”
“Marci.”
“Listen, Marci. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this up to you,” he said. “I work at Java Time, the one near campus. Free coffee on me whenever you want from now on.”
“Talking hurts my chest,” she said. That was only slightly a lie. Although the initial pain had subsided a little—or maybe she’d just gotten used to it—her chest still ached. She made sure to keep her breaths short and shallow.
When they got to student health, Owen filled out her paperwork for her, talking only to ask her questions as he filled out the form. He then sat back in his chair, one sandled foot crossed over his knee, and said nothing as they waited her turn.
“What about your bike?” she asked. He’d left it behind so he could carry her books.
He shrugged. “It’ll probably be there when I get back.”
“And if it’s not?”
Golden late morning light from the window above them in the waiting room shone down on his dark blond hair. “I’m more concerned with whether you’re okay or not right now,” he said. “And whether you hate me forever.”
“I don’t even know you. How can I hate you?”
“Maybe we can change that. The not knowing me part.” He gave her a crooked grin that exposed straight teeth. He could’ve walked out of a toothpaste ad or off a movie set. Leaning forward on some very nice forearms, causing some equally nice biceps to flex, he started to say something else, but then her name was called. They both looked up. “Should I wait here for you?” he asked. “No, I will. I definitely will. This is all my fault.”
“You might as well come back with me. If you want to. After all, you’ve come this far.”
Owen sprang to his feet, grabbed her books, and followed her to the exam room.
It turned out that she didn’t have any serious burns. The doctor prescribed her an ointment, gave her a prescription for a few painkillers with instructions to switch to over-the-counter aspirin or ibuprofen when they ran out, and sent her on her way.
At the door to student health, after she’d picked up her drugs from the pharmacy in the back of the building, Marci started to take her books from Owen. He held them away from her slightly. “When will I see you again?” he asked.
“Look, you’ve been real nice, and I appreciate it. I get that you’re sorry about what happened, but I think we should just say goodbye now.”
“You have to at least let me buy you a new shirt,” he said. The way his hair fell across his forehead made her want to reach up and push it back.
“That’s okay. It’ll give me an excuse to go shopping.” She just wanted to get out of there and go beg Professor Ming for mercy. And there would have to be some serious groveling involved knowing Professor Ming.
“At least come by Java Time for free coffee. Free until one of us graduates.”
“I dunno.”
“What can I do to make it up to you?”
“Promise me you won’t mow down anymore pedestrians.”
“Deal.” He shifted her books to one arm and held out his hand for her to shake. At first, she hesitated. Then she reached out and shook his hand. When his warm fingers closed around hers in a strong grip, her heart skipped a beat. Clearing her dry throat, she pulled back and gave him a shaky smile. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t like she’d never been touched by a cute
guy before.
He’s not just cute. There’s something else there…okay. It was time to get out of her head.
“See you around, Owen,” she said even though she wasn’t planning on it.
“Can’t I at least get your number?”
“I really have to get going.” She reached for her books again. This time, he gave them to her. Before he could say anything else, she was off.
#
If she hurried, she could catch Professor Ming before she left the classroom. Marci ran all the way to Drew Hall. And Marcy wasn’t a runner. Huffing and puffing, she dragged herself up the stairs to the second floor. Her chest, which still hadn’t completely recovered from that morning’s incident, was on fire once again. Staggering into the doorway of the classroom, she saw Professor Ming gathering her things and stuffing them back into her stylish brown leather tote.
“Professor, so sorry, coffee,” she said between gasps for air, gesturing to the front of her shirt. “Let me explain.”
Professor Ming looked over at her. Straightening her tan pencil skirt by tugging at the sides, she walked over to one of the tables near the front of the room and sat on the corner of it. Folding her arms over her chest, she said, “Give it a try.” Silky black hair framed the oval face that was giving Marci an all-business look.
“I was on my way here when I was attacked by some fool on a bike. Coffee went everywhere. I went to student health to get checked out.”
Professor Ming’s dark, serious eyes gave away no clues as to what she was thinking. “Do you have a doctor’s note?”
“No, I, a doctor’s note?” Damn. She hadn’t thought to ask for one. Owen had distracted her in more ways than she cared to admit. “No. Just look at me.” Marci gestured to her blouse. “I have this prescription.” Marci started digging in her bag for the cream and nearly empty bottle that contained her meager prescription of painkillers.
“There’s no need for that,” Professor Ming said quietly.
“What?” Marci looked up. That didn’t sound good.
“Do you remember what I said about projects at the beginning of the semester?”
“No make-ups. No exceptions,” Marci said glumly.
“Now, clearly, something happened to you this morning,” Professor Ming cast a judgmental eye over Marci’s outfit. “But if you could make it here to tell me about it, I’m wondering why you couldn’t make it here two hours ago for class. You’re obviously not deathly ill.”
“But…the burns. And the coffee…” Marci couldn’t get farther than that. Her mind was too filled up with the missed presentation. It was half her grade. “There’s really nothing I can do to make it up?”
“Today was your day, Marci. It would throw off the schedule if I let you have a make-up. And it would set a bad precedent.”
Marci had heard about a student who’d missed one of Professor Ming’s tests in one of her undergrad classes and emailed Ming to tell her about it. The student had mono and didn’t respond to Professor Ming’s reply email within two hours to schedule a time for a make-up test. Professor Ming hadn’t let the student re-take the test, and the student later failed the class. The student’s parents had taken Professor Ming to the school’s judicial council, and Professor Ming hadn’t budged. Professor Ming won the case. Professor Ming was all about precedents.
“But it’s half my grade,” Marci said, stating the obvious.
“You still have the final project.”
“So the final project counts as my entire grade.”
Professor Ming nodded. “You’d better get used to it if you’re still thinking about pursuing a J.D. while working toward your Ph.D. In law school, you only get one shot at your grade in all of your classes.”
Marci sat down in a chair behind a table near the one on which Ming had perched. She needed a moment. She was going to need one of those pain pills soon. She watched Professor Ming sling her tote over her shoulder and head for the door. At the door, Professor Ming turned to her and said, “This is the way the world works. Things aren’t going to get any fairer the farther you go in life. I’m sorry, Marci.”
“You and me both,” Marci said.
One thing was for sure. She never wanted to see bike boy—what was his name, Owen?— again in her life. Even if his touch had made her skin tingle in a very not unpleasant way.
Chapter Two
Owen didn’t know how he would manage it, but he did know he had to see Marci again. He was still thinking of her as he opened the door to his apartment and wheeled his bike inside. His roommate, Dante, had to call his name several times to get his attention.
“Oh, what, huh?” Owen said finally.
“I still don’t understand why you have to keep that thing inside,” Dante said, pushing his black thick-framed glasses up on top of his head. Dante must’ve recently gotten home from class as he wore tan slacks and a white button-down. It was either a suit or business casual for Dante in class. Dressing up wasn’t a requirement for the business school at CVU, but Dante was one of the more go-getter business students who did that. Some of those kids seemed addicted to competing with each other.
“A bike was stolen from that rack outside our building the other week, and a tire was stolen off one last week.” Owen shrugged. “Not taking any chances.”
“Probably be fine if you kept it locked up.”
“They cut the lock on the stolen one, and how’s locking it up going to keep someone from stealing the tire?” Owen laughed as he rolled the bike over to its designated corner. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the wall facing Dante who sat on the sofa with his laptop.
“You’re in a good mood. And what’s with that goofy look on your face?” Dante closed the lid on his laptop and set it beside him on the couch.
“I might have met a girl.”
“That was quick. Home girl just steamrolled you not a month ago. And you’ve been moping around here ever since. Just yesterday you were moping.”
“Just met her this morning.”
“Who is she? What’s she like? When are you going to see her again? I know you’re already planning these things. You are the only guy I know who’s ready to pack up and move in with a girl by the third date. And you’d do it, too, if they were crazy as you are and crazy enough to let you. I’m surprised you’re not married yet.”
“Me, too,” Owen said. A cloud scudded across his thoughts, but the sun came out again as he focused back on Marci.
“So? When is the wedding?”
Owen grimaced a little. “It’s a bit complicated.”
“How can it be complicated already?”
“Has to do with the way I met her.” Owen pushed off from the wall.
“And how did you meet her?” Dante sat back on the couch, crossed his arms over his chest, and raised his eyebrows.
“I plowed her over on the sidewalk. And I might have caused her coffee to spill all over her chest. Hot coffee. Very hot.”
“Oh. Damn. I told you about that bike.”
“You hate the bike on principle.”
“I do, but in this case, I happen to be right. If you’d gotten rid of that thing before this morning, you wouldn’t have assaulted that poor woman.”
“And I probably wouldn’t have met her either,” Owen said. “So there’s your catch-22.”
“How much good is it gonna do you, though, that you met her like that? I bet she was mad.” Dante drew the word “mad” out to several times its normal length.
“Yeah. I offered to buy her a new shirt, but she wouldn’t let me. She wouldn’t even give me her phone number. I would’ve offered her mine, but she left before I could. I doubt she would’ve taken it anyway.”
“Dawg. That is beyond a lost cause. You might as well let that one go right now.”
“But I can’t. That’s the problem.”
“You’re right it’s a problem.”
“She’s gorgeous. And she must be smart. She’s a grad student, and I could bare
ly understand the titles on the books she had with her much less have any idea what they’re about. And—there was just something about her, about the way she carried herself.” Something that was both magnetic and hard to describe.
“What does she look like?”
“Average height. Light brown eyes. Brown skin. Curly brown hair. She’s curvy.” On that last one, he once again got lost in the memory of how beautiful she’d looked even with coffee staining the front of her white blouse that morning.
“So, is she a sister?”
“Yeah,” Owen said, barely aware of what his roommate had asked him. His mind kept drifting back to Marci, replaying that morning with her over and over again. It’d been doing that since they parted ways. He was tempted to look her up in the student directory, but something about that seemed a little too much. One thing was for sure, though. He wasn’t giving up on the idea of seeing her again.
“Well, if you’re not too wrapped up in this fantasy you have that you’re going to see her again, some of us are going down to The Hops Saturday night. My friend, Brynn, is gonna be there. Remember I said you should meet her?” The Hops was a place downtown specializing in craft beers—mostly from local microbreweries. Lots of kids from CVU, or Central Virginia University, ended up there on the weekends.
“Yeah. I remember,” Owen said.
“Well, her parents are from Denmark, and she’s got that Nordic thing working for her. Blonde, blue eyes. Tall. Damn, baby girl could be a model. And you have more than a phantom chance of getting with her. And she’s not pissed at you for trying to murder her with her own coffee this morning.”
“That’s a little drastic. I didn’t try to murder her.”
“Regardless, if you see that girl again, you’ll be lucky if you get more than a slap in the face.”
“I guess.”
“So are you coming to The Hops on Saturday?”
“I guess,” Owen repeated. Dante had been trying to set him up with girls since he became single. That was okay, he guessed, as he didn’t care too much for being single. Well, it had been okay until now. However, now there was only room for one girl on his mind. But as nothing about that situation was likely to change by Saturday, he might as well go out, have a few beers, and humor Dante by meeting this friend of his.
Soft Shock Page 1