Divine Ambrosia

by Vivienne Savage

  Luke whisked off. Alex gave a final look toward the house before he turned away and forged down the path.

  2

  Only the crazy students who loved the snow bothered hanging around outside between classes once winter hit and the campus became an ivory wonderland. Esme had been that student to take an unfortunate spill last winter, feet losing traction on the ice and sending her down four steps to the sidewalk.

  Her tailbone had been tender for weeks. Nowadays, she spent as little time outside as possible until the groundskeepers could shovel away the trampled snow. There was a storm going on now, ferocious winds whipping away great white clouds across the school grounds, and while it was beautiful to watch, no one could have paid her to go out there yet.

  From the serene study room of the student recreation center, she considered herself safe from the danger of humiliating herself again. It was the closest in proximity to the university’s school of arts building.

  This was perfect weather for hot cocoa or a creamy mocha caramel coffee from the small cafe nearby. If she’d remembered to bring her wallet and student ID card. Her heavy backpack occupied the space beside her feet while she huddled with her sketchbook in a recliner with a window view of the main courtyard.

  The area was snug between the campus bookstore and a Feldman’s Bakery, like a double whammy temptation urging her to buy this week’s new release books or delicious donuts with the credit card she saved for emergencies only.

  Her belly rumbled, a plea for her to text Marie and beg for a couple bucks. Using a credit card with zero balance was like breaking a seal, and every purchase thereafter would be easier to make than the last.

  Esme resisted and sank into her seat instead, thoughts drifting to her most recent dream. She’d awakened a sweaty mess beneath the tangled sheets after fantasizing all night about a long-haired bearded man on a fierce warhorse, clad in old Greco-Roman armor like a cast member of the movie Troy. She’d sketched him in charcoal, but the drawing didn’t do him justice.

  “Hey. Esme, right?” a warm, masculine voice spoke up from behind her.

  Esme snapped the sketchbook shut against her chest. She twisted around and froze, a reply stuck in her throat at the sight standing behind her recliner. How did the school’s star athlete even know her name?

  “Um, yeah?”

  Luke Tempest ran in a different crowd from her, being a popular guy who had somehow become the university heartthrob overnight when he transferred in last year out of the blue. Not that he gave anyone the time of day, no matter how much they flirted or danced around him in their microscopic shorts and miniskirts. The guy was all about his track career and college education when he wasn’t chugging drinks with his social circle of groupies.

  His widening grin mesmerized her for a second, making it difficult to determine what she liked the most about his handsome face. Was it the smoldering hazel eyes that shone like gold or the dimple in his right cheek? “I heard you’re a computer genius. That true?” He stood beside her chair in a casual pose, both hands tucked in to the pockets of a dark umber hooded sweatshirt.

  Her mind drew a blank, and she stared at him like a dimwitted child until his motivations finally clicked. Annoyance swept away the starstruck stupor. “I don’t know about being a genius, but I do all right. Why? Looking for someone to do your homework for you? Because I don’t do that.”

  “Not even for a hundred bucks per paper?”

  She blinked. A dozen ways to spend a hundred dollars flitted through her mind, hot cocoa at the top of the list along with a pair of cute knee-high boots she saw on sale. Meanwhile, Luke grinned and laughed at her before dropping into the adjacent chair with the confidence of a man who had been invited to join her. The husky sound of his warm chuckle sent shivers dancing along her spine.

  “I’m kidding,” he said. “I don’t need you to cheat for me. I was actually hoping you could give me a hand, you know? All that HTML shit makes my brain hurt. So I thought maybe you’d be willing to tutor me.”

  “Tutor you.”

  “Yeah. I can still pay for your time. Maybe start with joining me for coffee?”

  She pushed her glasses further up her nose and considered the offer. A hundred bucks was a temptation she couldn’t easily pass up. But for the resident rich kid, it was chump change. Rumors around campus claimed he had a trust fund. Both of his parents had died at an early age in a mysterious car accident.

  “Make it three-hundred and you have a deal.” She waited for him to decline and walk away.

  Luke’s grin widened. “Deal. Now how about that coffee? My treat.”

  Esme stared. “Wait, you mean right now?”

  “Why not? You’re not in class. I’m not in class. Seems like a good time for us both.”

  “Sure, I guess.” So much for finishing her novel. She tucked in a bookmark and fought the urge to send an ecstatic text to Marie about her not-date with the school’s most coveted hottie.

  When she reached for her bag, he beat her to it and plucked the heavy thing off the floor, exposing the image of a shoe with white wings stitched into the back of his jacket. That kind of brag on anyone else would be arrogance. For Luke Tempest, it was absolute honesty. Rumors claimed some guys from the Book of World Records had come and scouted him, but he’d shooed them away, claiming he had no interest in holding any titles. Dismissed them in what had to be the greatest show of modesty or stupidity their college had ever seen.

  Feldman’s and the cafe were tucked beside each other, practically sharing the same space without a wall separating them. Students frequently went from one register to the other.

  Esme and Luke chose a table by the glass wall dividing the cooler study hall from the fragrant aroma of baking pastries and steamy beverages, placing their bags beside chairs opposite one another before moving in line. Around this time of the day, the place was bustling with activity, over half of the three dozen tables occupied.

  While they stood in line, Esme eyed an enormous canvas display advertising the season’s mint chocolate chip cocoa. “Too late to swap that coffee for a hot cocoa?”

  “Nope. Was considering one myself. ’Tis the season, right?” He turned to the clerk behind the counter and made an order for two large cocoas, extra whipped cream, peppermint chips, and chocolate shavings on both, like he’d read her mind. He paid with a crisp twenty and stuffed the change in the tip jar like 100 percent tips were a common thing in university food shops.

  People were staring now as they moved off to the side and waited at the pickup counter for their decadent chocolate beverages. A pair of girls at an adjacent table leaned close, dropping their voices to a whisper level. One stole a look at Luke with her phone while pretending to take a selfie that conveniently included him in the photo over her shoulder.

  Esme knew all the tricks. She rolled her eyes.

  Luke snickered suddenly. Then their drinks arrived, and he passed her one of the creamy delights. “So, what kind of major requires art and web design courses?”

  “Interior design.” She risked scalding her mouth for a small sip of liquid calories to distract from the occasional curious face glancing their way.

  He pulled out her chair. Esme blinked. Compared to other college guys she knew, Luke was a world-class gentleman among oversized children, making their interaction all the more puzzling with every passing second. Who did that anymore under the age of forty? Her dad didn’t even pull out chairs for her mother, and they had been married for thirty years.

  “The hell does interior design have to do with web design?”

  His scrutiny unnerved her, making warmth spread over her face and releasing a swarm of butterflies in her belly. More than anything, she wanted to squirm in her seat, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her uncomfortable if this was all some sick, immature joke dreamed up by an ex hell-bent on hurting her. “It’s an elective for me, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to know how to do my own stuff.”

  “Yeah? Th
at’s cool. So you’d be doing that whole decorating thing like MTV Cribs, right?”

  “Something like that but less, you know, gaudy.”

  “Hey, some of those places were a little stylish.”

  “A few.”

  “You trying to say a wraparound pool with three golden statue fountains and four burning platforms ain’t tasteful? Maybe I want my house to look like a sacred Aztec temple.” He sipped his chocolate, straight-faced, while she choked on hers.

  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “Yeah. If I’m gonna be that extra, I’d rather have Grecian columns and towering marble statues in my yard. Way classier than South American decor. Naked statues too, because you can’t really call it complete without a nude Aphrodite beside the driveway.”

  “Now I know you’re messing with me.”

  “Maybe.” He leaned forward, mischief dancing in his honey-colored eyes. “What are you doing to—”

  The rapid click of clunky heels clattered to them and stopped beside the table, worn by a blonde in low-rise jeans and a pink top revealing her pierced navel despite the unforgiving weather outside.

  “Oh my God. It took me forever to find you. Like I had to go check out the TV room and the video game stations before someone finally said they saw you around here.”

  Luke’s attention darted away to the plastic bimbo. Every break during the semester or in between, Rhonda got something else done to her body on her daddy’s dime. Last semester it had been a fresh pair of new tits. This time, she’d gotten her lips botoxed.

  As much as Esme tried to hold back her catty criticisms, Rhonda made it impossible when she spent all her time rubbing it in everyone’s face, constantly telling them what they should save up to have fixed since they don’t have rich daddies to purchase them a nose job or new chin.

  Apparently, Esme needed new tits and a little lipo around the hips. At the time, she’d pretended it hadn’t stung, but it had.

  And judging from Luke’s friendly smile, their cafe date was going to come to an abrupt end. Esme sighed. He even twisted around to look up at the intruder, warm smile never wavering. “Rhonda, right? You need something?”

  “I totally do. There’s going to be a hot tub party at my place this weekend, and I wanted to invite you.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Huh?”

  “No thanks,” he repeated.

  “Seriously?” Rhonda’s face flushed. “Maybe you don’t understand. Everyone who’s anyone will be there. Your team captain, Brandon, will be there. I invited all the people who matter.”

  Students en route to their tables slowed down to spectate the train wreck, while Esme slouched down in her seat and tried to become invisible.

  Luke raised his brows. “Did you invite Esme?”

  “Um, no. Why would I? She isn’t anyone important.”

  “Nah. I’m good. Thanks for the invitation though.”

  “But why not?”

  Luke leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “You really wanna know why?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “We can start with how your rude ass wandered over and interrupted our conversation. You didn’t even acknowledge Esme with a glance. Or the fact that you smell like a chemical reaction between a cheap perfumery and a marijuana dispensary. Try lowering the windows if you’re gonna smoke in Daddy’s car.”

  “I—”

  “You are trying really hard to rub your last two brain cells together for a witty retort, but it’s not happening. Girl, just go. I don’t have time for your entitled ass. I’m not the one.”

  Lacking any kind of a comeback, Rhonda hurried away and vanished around the corner, out of sight the moment she left the cafe. She’d practically streamed smoke behind her.

  “Daaaaamn, son,” a kid at an adjacent table said.

  “Hashtag savage,” another student agreed, giggling. “About time someone let the hot wind out of her. Can’t fucking stand her.”

  Esme let out a quiet breath, under strain from the tremendous effort of keeping her laughter in.

  Luke smirked. “Go ahead and laugh if you want. I mean, she kinda had that shit coming. I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt and believe she wasn’t going to talk over you the entire damn time she stood there, but…”

  “Was all of that because she ignored me?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t like rude people.”

  “Just rude?”

  “Or petty bitches,” he added.

  “Well, thanks for that.”

  “So, are you going to tell me why you keep glancing around this place like the crew from Candid Camera is one click away from leaping out to shout ‘Surprise!’ at us? You got an ex sitting around here somewhere?” Luke twisted in his seat, his bewildered expression appearing genuine despite the raw knot of suspicion twisting in her gut.

  “I guess I’m just waiting for the part where you ask me out, I say yes, then you bust out laughing at how stupid I must be to have fallen for it.”

  “Huh?” The humor faded from his face. “I was planning to ask you out, but I don’t know what I’ve done to make you think I’m that kind of asshole.”

  Oh shit. Now, more than ever, she wanted to sink into a big, deep, dark pit somewhere and never crawl out again.

  “You okay, Esme? You look sick.”

  “I think I’m just gonna go.” She slid from her seat and grabbed her bag. “Sorry.”

  “Hey, wait.” Luke caught up with her before she’d taken three steps. He touched her hand and she froze, startled by the little electric zing that seemed to zip up her arm.

  She told herself it was only static, even though she couldn’t bear to jerk away.

  “Lemme take you out tomorrow night. We can catch a movie.”

  “Uh—”

  “I’ll pick you up here after class.”

  “Um—”

  “Great. See you tomorrow, Esme.” He grinned then headed off, leaving her to stare at his retreating back and wonder what the hell had just happened.

  A moment of silence passed between them, Marie scrutinizing her with a disbelieving stare from the other end of the couch. Or waiting for the punchline to the joke. “You were asked out by the Undateable Hunk?”

  Esme snorted at the superheroesque nickname a few irritable girls had attached to the poor guy earlier that year when he received his reputation for refusing to date at the university. “I’m still trying to decide if he was having a laugh at me or something, but the more I dissect his behavior, the more certain I am that he was serious. Or just a nice guy who feels sorry for an awkward girl.”

  “Isn’t he seeing that androgynous supermodel from New York? The one you idolize.”

  “Dito? I thought so. I should have asked. Ugh.”

  “There’s photos online of them having lunch at some posh place in New York. Okay, well tell me everything! How did he say it? Was he smiling? Like was it a platonic kind of question? I can’t believe he walked up to you and asked.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Marie. He’s being nice because he wants me to make sure he passes his finals.”

  “Milk that shit, girl. This is your opportunity to win him over. Or, if you don’t want him, introduce him to me.” Marie flashed her an exaggerated smile. “Be your bestie for life if you do.”

  “If I recall, I already won the Bestie for Life title when I lied to your mother and said you were sleeping over at my place while you were out all night boning Randy Mitchell in a Super 8 motel room after prom.”

  Marie wrinkled her nose. “Not my finest moment.”

  “Or your finest lay if I remember your complaints the next morning.”

  “Smallest dick ever. Lucky for him he had a great tongue.” Marie sighed. “Ah, memories.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Anyway, I expect a full report after your date tomorrow. What movie are you going to see?”

  “I have no idea. He just sorta... asked and took my bewildered shock a
s acceptance. I never actually said yes.”

  “But you’re going to go. Please tell me you’re going to go, and you won’t leave that hot dude sitting in the cafe alone.”

  “Yeah, fine, I will.”

  Marie squealed and clapped her hands. Her excitement was infectious, and Esme smiled herself, suddenly anxious for the date. Luke seemed like a nice guy. Eager maybe, but nice. She couldn’t see any harm in a single date.

  “I promise to tell you everything, but for right now, we need to focus.”

  Marie blinked, brows drawing together, and Esme sighed. She reached over and plucked up a flyer from the coffee table, brandishing it at her forgetful friend.

  “The fundraiser, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Marie said. “I got through the first five the other day, but a few are callbacks who had to contact someone above them or a relative before they knew if they could donate.”

  “Awesome. Now we have like, what? Thirty to go? Oh, oh! Guess what I managed to get?”

  “Besides a date? What?”

  Esme stuck her tongue out. “I might have managed to catch a glimpse of a certain artist’s contact number when I popped into Wōden Gallery on the way here.”

  “No way. You have the number for Alexander Smith?” Marie practically bounced in her seat. “Are you going to call?”

  “Why not? If we managed to get some of his work into the auction, we’d raise a ton of money. People fall over themselves for his sculptures.”

  “Yeah, but do you think he’ll actually offer one up for free?”

  “Doesn’t hurt to ask. Worst he can do is say no.”

  Marie drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest while Esme dialed. The phone rang and rang, and just when it seemed no one would pick up, the line connected.

  “Smith residence, may I help you?” a cultured British accent said.

  “Hi, yes. My name is Esme Caro, and I’m calling on behalf of the University of Ashfall’s art department. Is Mr. Smith available?”

  “May I ask what this is in regard to, Miss Caro?”