by Mia Madison
Touch & Taste
Love at First Sight: Book One
Mia Madison
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
About the Author
Touch & Taste
Love at First Sight series: Book One
Copyright © 2016 by Mia Madison
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
1
If you asked a hundred people if they believed in love at first sight, you’d probably only get a handful of yeses from people who had experienced it firsthand.
Then there was the rest of us. The cynical assholes who would scoff and raise a brow at such a ridiculous notion. At least that had been my reaction when my roommate and best friend Finley asked me back in our freshman year of college.
Well, that and a long-winded rant about the idiots who believed in such nonsense.
Weren’t we raised on the belief that our sight was one of—if not the most—unreliable of senses? How many platitudes were there about it? Things like, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover.’ Or, ‘Things are never what they appear to be.’
After countless years of listening to anecdotes like those, how could anyone truly believe in love at first sight? What went through these people’s minds when they laid eyes on their supposed soul mates?
In hindsight, maybe it was just the intro to psych class I had taken freshman year speaking. Maybe it was witnessing my parents’ marriage—which had supposedly been built on love at first sight—crumble in the most spectacular fashion back when I was still in middle school. Or maybe I was just a pessimist.
But whatever the reason was, I never could have predicted that I’d be eating my own words before I even made it to graduation.
The day my opinion of love at first sight began to change started out as normally as any other. After sharing our morning pot of coffee, Finley and I broke apart to grumble our way through our respective morning routines, meeting up again in the bathroom to put our makeup on once we were fully awake.
It being the first day of a new semester meant we were both lagging a little further behind than usual. Finley rapidly scrubbed at her teeth with her toothbrush and I shifted out of the way of the sink so she could spit, doing my best not to stab myself in the eye as I applied the black liner to my upper eyelid from the odd angle.
“Ugh,” Finley groaned after rinsing the last of the toothpaste from her mouth and spitting it down the drain. “Thank God it’s our last first day. I’m so not going to miss this.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed in agreement, the corners of my lips twitching in amusement as I said, “It’s not like we’ll have to keep up this whole morning routine crap once we start working or anything.”
Finley fell silent and I shifted my gaze in the mirror, unable to stifle a snort at the look of dread on her face.
“Are you purposely trying to ruin my day? Can’t you just let me win one for once?”
“Just bringing you back to reality,” I replied, grinning at the almost flawless wing I managed to draw beside my eye. I pulled away from the mirror, inspecting both eyes and letting out a victorious sound of excitement when I realized they matched perfectly.
“I’m like an eyeliner magician.”
“And where did you learn such magic?”
“You, oh wise one. My makeup skills were hopeless before you came into my life.”
“Damn right,” Finley grumbled before knocking her hip against mine. “Now scoot. I’ve got a lot of work to do here.”
I finished dabbing on my lip balm and backed away from the mirror, letting Finley take my spot while I dashed to my bedroom to grab my bag. After a quick check to make sure I had everything I needed for my first day of classes, I made my way back to the bathroom.
“Dinner tonight, right?”
Ever since our freshman year, Finley and I had made it a tradition to have dinner on the first night of every semester to talk through our first impressions of the classes and teachers. We also had dinner together on the final day of classes—both to celebrate the end of the semester and to compare notes of how everything ended up comparing to our original assumptions.
I liked to think of it as studying and honing our intuitions.
Finley liked to think of it as a valid reason to get dressed up and get drunk at one of the nicer restaurants in town.
Regardless of our different views on the subject, tradition was tradition.
“Well, duh,” she said with an offended scoff, turning away from her reflection to cock an eyebrow at me. “Have I ever blown you off for one of our dinners?”
Maybe not for one of our traditional dinners, but she had blown me off countless other times over the years. Instead of pointing that out, I simply shook my head and gave her the sunniest smile I could muster.
“Meet me back here at six? That’ll give us plenty of time to get ready.”
“Will do,” she confirmed with a nod. “Have a good first day, my love!”
“You, too!”
I blew her an exaggerated kiss in the mirror before I took off, grabbing my heavy coat from the hook by the front door and silently cursing the fact that my first class started an hour before Finley’s. I wrestled the coat on in the hallway and pulled the door shut behind me before I made my way down the steps to the entrance of our building.
As I reached for the doorknob, I closed my eyes and prayed to all the gods I could think of to let it not be snowing. I blew out a long breath while pushing the door open and groaned when I was immediately hit in the face by a gust of cold wind and large flakes of snow.
“Fantastic,” I muttered, forcing a smile at two of my downstairs neighbors as they passed by and started down the front steps.
I fell in line behind them, subtly trying to stay close as they made their way towards the campus. When I realized that they were both very aware of me following them, I shifted my focus towards trying not to look like a complete idiot as I purposely stepped in the footprints their boots made in the snow.
Unfortunately for me, the men I was following had strides a little longer than my legs and shoes would allow. As I tried to make the turn onto the sidewalk of the main road, my ankle twisted wrong and I lost my balance on the slippery ice.
“Fuck!”
My purse fell to the snow while my ass collided with the pavement. Hard.
If my mortification hadn’t been complete with the two guys I’d been following turning back to watch as I struggled to right myself, the silver Mercedes pulling over and grinding to a halt at the curb beside me certainly put the icing on the cake.
I braced myself up on my hands, frowning at the dark windows as the engine of the car quietly idled. I couldn’t think of a name to give to the strange feeling that started to make my stomach clench. The closest comparison that came to mind was that slightly paranoid feeling I sometimes got when I was alone in my bedroom and felt like I was being watched,
which was completely absurd.
It was abundantly clear that I was being watched, although I had no idea by whom.
None of my friends could afford a Mercedes. My parents definitely could, but my father was an adamant Audi driver and my mother was on vacation in the Caribbean.
There was no way I knew the person behind the wheel of that car.
I was so focused on trying to see through the tinted glass that I completely missed the sound of the crunching snow as my neighbors made their way to my side. When one of them—Ben, if I recalled correctly—bent down and gently touched my shoulder, I jumped.
“You alright, girl?” he asked, a small smile on his face as his eyebrows furrowed together with concern. His eyes flickered between me and the car a few times before he finally offered his hand.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I said, sliding my hand into his and wincing in pain once I was fully upright again. That was definitely going to leave a bruise.
Ben’s attention was still focused on the car beside us and I glanced back just in time to get a good look at my reflection before the car slowly began to pull away.
“That was weird.”
Ben chuckled at my muttered observation, offering his elbow as he asked, “Where are you heading?”
“Dickerson Hall.”
“I’ll make sure you get there in one piece,” he said with an easygoing smile, waving off his roommate and telling the other man that he’d catch up with him soon.
If I hadn’t been aware that Ben had a serious crush on Finley, I might have thought he was flirting with me. But I had seen him staring at her enough to know better and he confirmed my suspicion a short while later when he used the opportunity to badger me with questions about my roommate.
After artfully dodging as many as I could, I finally cut off his seemingly endless line of questioning with an irritated scowl as I said, “You know, Finley isn’t nearly as bitchy as she lets on. She’s actually really nice and I’m ninety-five percent sure that she’d answer all these questions if you just talk to her.”
Ben went quiet for a few peaceful steps, giving me a chance to concentrate solely on not slipping again. The blessed silence was only temporary, though.
“What about the other five percent?”
“The other—oh my god,” I groaned when the realization of what he was asking fully hit me. “Seriously, just talk to her. I’m not good at this matchmaker stuff.”
“You’re not too good at this whole walking thing either, huh?” he joked with a laugh right after I lost traction and felt my feet beginning to slide again. I managed to catch myself without his help this time, but I still clung to his arm for good measure.
Damn shoes, I thought to myself as I glared hatefully at the beautiful boots that had absolutely zero treading. They might have served me well in the fall, but they clearly weren’t going to do me any favors this winter.
Ben was still chuckling when I looked up and narrowed my eyes at him.
“If you keep poking fun at me I’ll talk shit about you to Finley.”
His laughter stopped immediately, but the corners of his lips continued to twitch. “That’s cold, Brooke. You wouldn’t do that to me after I escorted you to class, would you?”
“Try me.”
It was his turn to narrow his eyes at me and before I knew what happened, we had stopped moving altogether to just glare at each other. When the two of us realized what we were doing, we both burst out laughing, drawing amused looks from passing pedestrians to us.
As Ben continued to guide me to my first class, I sincerely hoped that he worked up the nerve to talk to Finley. It was rare that I enjoyed the company of the guys she brought home, but I could already see Ben becoming a good friend if she gave him half a chance.
Despite how much I hated the matchmaker role, after we made it to my hall and he waved goodbye, I decided to put in a good word for him with Finley. I figured it was the least I could do after he went so far out of his way to help me.
With my mind made up, I put all thoughts of Ben and Finley out of my head for the time being and stepped into the hallway, letting out a heavy sigh of relief as warmth seeped through my clothing.
But at the same time, the warmth brought my attention to the cold dampness of my jeans, a reminder of my embarrassing fall.
What a way to start my final semester as a student, I thought with a sigh as I stepped into the ladies room to survey the damage. Between the wet spot on my jeans and the damage done to my makeup by the snow, my final semester in college was off to a rough start. I slid my phone out of my purse to check the time, cursing when I realized I didn’t have time to fix myself up unless I wanted to be late for my first class.
First impressions meant a lot to me and fucked up makeup or not—I wasn’t going to be the first tardy student of the year. That student typically ended up being made an example of and there was no way in hell that it was going to be me.
So I clenched my teeth together and left the ladies room, ignoring the chuckles of a few girls who obviously hadn’t been subjected to walking through the snow this morning. I strolled to my first class with an air of confidence that I certainly didn’t feel.
Sometimes you gotta fake it to make it.
The class was pretty packed considering it was so close to starting, but thankfully, the professor hadn’t yet made it to the podium. I scanned the rows for empty seats, sighing in resignation when I realized I’d either have to invade someone’s personal space or take a seat in the front.
Invading someone else’s space meant them invading mine, so while it wasn’t a desirable scenario, the choice was still easy to make. I took the seat on the end of the first row and dropped my bag and my purse in the free spot beside it.
I was still standing up and trying to shrug off my winter coat when I heard the sound of the back doors slamming shut. I glanced up the corridor, frowning as I watched the man who closed them throw the deadbolt before spinning around to face the curious gazes of the class.
Even with the distance between us, the moment my eyes landed on his face, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning.
“If you’re going to be late, don’t bother coming at all,” he announced, his voice loud and clear, but controlled enough not to be considered shouting. “And before anyone complains—no, this is not a fire hazard. The emergency exit is right there.”
He pointed to a door on the far side of the room, but I couldn’t drag my eyes away from him. Judging by the authority in his tone and confirmed when he started marching down the center aisle towards the podium, it was pretty obvious that this ridiculously good-looking man was the professor.
Fucking. Hell. I didn’t know whether to be excited about the opportunity to stare at him for an entire semester or worried about the fact that I’d never be able to concentrate on my work.
At least this is an elective for me, I thought wryly as he arrived at my row.
He stopped dead in his tracks when our eyes met and I felt myself holding my breath as I watched one eyebrow arch up high in a silent question. It was at that moment that I realized I was still standing up—my coat still halfway on—and the entire class behind me was seated and stifling laughter while I froze like a deer caught in headlights.
“You,” he said accusingly, his head tilting to the side as he studied me through narrowed eyes.
So much for making a good first impression.
“Is that coming off or going on?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at my body. The strange, angry look melted off his face, replaced with a small smile of amusement.
“W-What?”
“Your coat. Are you coming or going?”
“I’m... coming?” I replied, cursing the way my voice rose and made the statement into a question.
But my god, did I ever wish I was coming.
His eyes narrowed by a small fraction before he pulled us both out of the increasingly awkward moment with a stilted, “Then take your seat.”
With that, he
continued his path to the front of the room and I pushed the coat off my shoulders while desperately trying to extinguish the heat that had risen to my cheeks.
“I’m Professor Baxter,” he announced as he leaned casually against the podium. “You don’t need to know my first name because you will call me Professor Baxter. Well, that or sir. Whatever floats your boat.”
There was a collective chuckle around the room and I could feel my blush deepen as my thoughts immediately turned to a place that they had no damn business going. As if he could sense my discomfort, Professor Baxter’s eyes locked directly on mine as he continued.
“I hope you like where you’ve chosen to sit this morning because those are now your assigned seats for the rest of the semester. I’ll be honest—it’s primarily for my benefit. It’s a hell of a lot easier to remember your names when you aren’t in a different seat every class.”
Another round of light laughter sounded and I wondered how many of my classmates were thinking they were grateful to have a professor that seemed so relaxed and funny and how many were thinking about how much they wanted to fuck him.
Or maybe that was just me.
Professor Baxter pointed at me, shaking me out of my dirty thoughts.
“You. Coat girl.”
I swallowed hard and raised my eyebrows at him, obeying when he stuck two fingers into the air and crooked them upwards, signaling for me to stand back up.
“Your name?”
“Brooke Evans.”
I couldn’t hear his voice, but I watched his lips form the words as he muttered my name to himself. My heart hammered in my chest, only slowing down when he finally gestured for me to sit down and proceeded to give the same attention to every other member of the class.
While I might not have gotten any special attention, it didn’t stop me from mentally replaying the look on his face and the way his mouth moved as he repeated my name. The desire to hear his voice say my name was ridiculous, but it looked like I’d have to settle for ‘coat girl’ for the time being.