Again I say, "Fuck you very much, assholes."
Only this time, to both of their faces, and slap Jeremy upside the head before sitting back down in my chair.
Jeremy won't stop laughing. "Dude, she looked like a deer caught in headlights when you went up to talk to her. Seriously, how old is she? Is she even over twenty-one? Remember our rule man, no jail bait."
I narrow my eyes. "I don't know, fucker. You two made her shut down or something. I barely got to ask her anything."
Leo still hasn't stopped laughing at me either. "Dude, I'm only here for two more days. I did my moving Jeremy here duty, and now it's time for beer by the keg. Ogle the lady on Monday. She does go to the same school, right? You can find her again."
"Yeah, she goes to Broxton. Apparently, we had a class together in the fall, so she is definitely not jail bait."
Jeremy looks at me with a weird, contorted face. "You've never seen her before now?"
I shrug. "Around the walkways of campus and the coffee shop. The three classes I took last semester each had like 100 people in them because there were grad students from every program. As you move farther into the program, the smaller your classes get."
Since Jeremy started the program this semester, he will see over the next few weeks how big the classes are. Broxton likes to start the general class bigger and based on what your MBA is for—business, engineering, communications, or health related—the more centralized the classes tend to get.
Leo jokes, "Then don't worry, man, you'll see her again to use your lame magic. I swear you have no game anymore."
I reach over and punch him in the shoulder. I'm only half angry with them. "You guys made her skittish. What the hell is wrong with the two you? You're lucky I at least managed a name out of her."
I like her nickname, Charlie. It suits her. I know some people get mad when you call them by their full name so if I slip up calling her Charlotte, I'd gladly take her wrath.
I managed to peruse without being caught as a total perv that she was low-key in her attire for tonight. Those dark jeans I noticed earlier matched a coffee brown pullover that she had unzipped from her neck to her collarbone. The elbows had tan leather patches, which matched her tan riding boots. I could see a silver necklace peeking out along that long, lightly tanned, smooth neck that I want to hold onto while devouring her. My lips ache to taste her skin. I want to trace the freckles along her straight nose with the little turn-up at the end down to the ones on her neck. I bet she tastes amazing all over. The cold air brought a slight wind that caught her amazing berry vanilla mixed scent. My dick just can't stand it anymore, and I have to attempt to hide in this very public domain.
I'd take a good guess that she wasn't really a typical southern belle. You know the ones that have eighty pounds of makeup and hair the size of Russia that's as hard as a Kevlar vest. I'd go with she's more of a classic country girl with her relaxed attire and demeanor. I officially love the southern country life for bringing such a breathtaking woman to my eyes. The sweater she was wearing just enhanced her shiny hair and green apple eyes. Those beauties will be in my dreams tonight staring back at me as I have her under me.
I turn back to watch her some more, but now she's gone completely in the clusters of the dance floor. I really hope the guys are right that I will see her in the near future.
The rest of the weekend is boring as we unpack Jeremy's stuff into the guest bedroom, and I drag the guys to the intramural meetings. We get Jeremy assigned to our teams and then go home to crash. I have some reading I need to get ahead on, and he wanted to go buy some stuff for his room. He offered to pay rent for living here, but I figured as long as he buys food and helps with the utilities there is no point. Between the two of us, our grocery bill could fund a national hockey team.
On Sunday, I stay in my office to read ahead for classes and then catch up on everything with my parents. They tell me about the firefighter hockey league my dad wants to start with inner city kids. I tell him I'd help with crunching the numbers they would need to get started and to stay running. My dad knows a rink owner who said he'd gladly donate an hour of rink time two to three times a week as long as the department was able to come up with the money for the skates, Zamboni, and equipment. I think that's an amazing idea for my dad once he retires in the next few years. Knowing him, he will get bored very quickly and my mom may eventually throw calculators at his head. Leo told me he already set up a funding account for the department using some of his inheritance. Leo may be a playboy these days, but he cares about giving back to the community and using the money his grandparents left him to help change lives.
I manage to avoid the constant hard-ons when I think about my brief conversation with Charlie on Friday night. I told my sister that I met someone, and she practically blew out my eardrum with her screeching. Now I know where my niece, Gia, gets her temper tantrum screech. I give her as much information as I know. Before we hang up, she tells me she can hear how happy I am in my voice. She knew I was pretty much living on an autopilot the last few years before taking the opportunities I was given.
It's times like these I appreciate and miss my family, but hearing my sister confirm my new feelings, only solidify my decision being the right one.
Fuck yeah for Mondays. Let's get this week started, people!
I'm only kidding. I hate Mondays as much as the next person no matter where I am. I just got off work at five and am heading to my six pm class. The office is only fifteen minutes from campus, and rush hour in Aiken is minimal. I'm walking into the campus coffee shop to rejuvenate before class and just my luck, I see Charlie standing in the line waiting to order.
My Monday just got a whole lot better.
There are two people ahead of her and no one behind her, which gives me ample time to slide in unseen. She seems to not notice much around her like she’s in her own bubble. As I get closer, I see earbuds in each ear. We keep inching up to the front of the line, and Charlie stares up at the menu. I take the opportunity to signal the very bored looking barista. She looks at me weird, and I'm trying to communicate to put Charlie's order on my tab.
If I'm playing my cards right, I just might get a few minutes of Charlie's time. It's selfish, I know, to hope I might get a thank you. Come on, though, she looks just as good today as she did at the concert. That berry vanilla scent, which I assume is a lotion or shampoo, is driving me insane. It is still cold outside with winter in mid-force, and there is frost sporadically on the ground from the weekend weather. She's wearing light blue jeans tucked into those brown tight combat boot things that all the women are wearing now, thick beige socks poking out of them, and a long-sleeved red t-shirt with the Gamecocks logo peeking through under her backpack. She's holding a brown peacoat over her elbow and brushing her dark walnut locks over her shoulder.
Do not run your fingers through her hair without her permission, Matthew Scott!
She takes one of her ear buds out to order. I watch as she pulls her backpack around to take her wallet out and put her ear buds inside the pocket. The barista stops her, saying, "Don't worry, it's covered already."
Charlie pops her head back up in surprise. "What? Really?"
The barista gestures to me. "Yeah, he just paid for you."
Charlie whips her neck to where I'm standing behind her, almost whacking me with her hair. Her almond shaped gems widen in shock and confusion. She looks like she might run away. Instead, she thanks me.
Score one for Reynolds.
"Oh wow. Um...thank you, Matt. That was very sweet of you." I give her a silent nod. I don't think I can speak right now. Or even touch her. I might break many general social graces in doing either.
Fuck, hearing her say my name is like smooth butter. I quickly make my order and pay for our drinks then I follow behind her to the pick-up station to wait for our orders. This is the perfect opening in getting to know her more.
Here goes nothing.
"Did you enjoy the rest of the concert?"
She instantly lights up. "Yes, I did. I love Chris Young, and it was my third time seeing him in concert. What about you?"
"I did. It was my first live country concert. I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer and talk to you. I wanted to ask you to dance."
She looks at me like I’ve grown two heads before regaining her composure, but her voice has a slight edge to it now. "Oh. It's fine. Your friends were calling for you to get back. I get it."
I see that same suspicious look in her eyes. It's as if a thick wall has gone up. I change the subject. "I didn't see anyone with you when I came up. Did you stay by yourself?"
"No. My friends went off to get some drinks, and I manned our spot."
Thinking how rowdy the crowds got last week near the end of the night, I abruptly and curtly ask, "Your friends just left you? All by yourself with that crowd?"
She answers quickly, "Y-yes. I know one of the security guards, and he wasn't standing far away. He'd never let anything happen to me at those things."
I immediately tense up with jealousy. My muscles tighten enough that I may pop an artery. Against my brain's better judgment, I blurt quite rudely, "Is he your boyfriend or something?"
Her mouth goes slack and eyebrows shoot up at my question. A few agonizing seconds later, she laughs hysterically. Through the laughing tears, she gasps out, "Aaron? Oh heck no! That's too funny and beyond gross." I watch her laugh for a few more seconds, still dumbfounded as she wipes away some cheerful tears. "My stomach hurts from laughing. Oh lord. I needed that."
When she notices my lack of response, she realizes my face is entirely confused and still slightly angry. She quickly explains, "Considering he can't see any nor breath for another woman beyond my best friend and is also my older brother, you can imagine how weird, disgusting, creepy, and quite illegal in all states that would be if he were my boyfriend."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and laugh at my own jump to conclusions. "Yeah, I guess I can see the problem there. I'm sorry about my reaction. I just haven't stopped thinking about you since Friday night."
There is a slightly awkward silence between us at this point, which makes it the perfect time for the barista to call our names for our drinks. I'm surprised to hear she ordered just a plain hot chocolate. I'm so used to hearing girls ordering those crazy, complicated, and funky flavored drinks that make you want to puke just looking at them.
I open the door for us, and she gives me a small, polite smile before ducking under my arm. We walk toward the graduate studies building across the short courtyard. Once inside, I realize we are walking down the dim-lighted hallway toward the same room. I stop walking, and she collides against my arm. Feeling her hand on my arm sends a shock to my bones. I almost drop my coffee on her shoulder. Now that would make a great second impression. Her coat falls to the ground, and she bends down to pick it up before looking up at me. I see some of her drink has spilled onto her hand. I grab her hand to pull her back up, and I take the sleeve of my fleece to wipe the drink off.
Yep, the current is still there.
I blank out for a second to control the buzzing from her skin. Looking over at Charlie, I take a chance and tell her, "I want you to go to dinner with me."
Her body ass pretty much froze by my statement and Jeremy's 'deer caught in headlights' reference has taken a solid hold in my mind while looking at her expression. Coming on too strong has always been a different attribute of mine. Sometimes it's a good thing; sometimes it's not. It's pretty much how I've gotten as many accounts as I've had at work. I’m anticipating a simple no, but her reply throws me completely off kilter.
I know she's having a physical reaction to me, both good and bad. Her body shows all of the signs of attraction, but also some fear. I plan on using it to my gain without overstepping my bounds. It will be hard for me to restrain myself, but it seems as if life is going to make me wait for Charlie just a little bit longer.
I think I hear him say, "I want you to go to dinner with me."
Good thing I already stopped walking in the hallway after we collided because my body officially won't move. Every muscle and bone have stopped working. All motor functions have failed.
Ignoring the warmth of the hot chocolate sticking to my hand and his hand still holding mine from helping me stand up, I try to hold composure. My eyes narrow, and I say honestly, "I don't think that's a good idea."
A confused look forms across his handsome face. "Can I ask why not? Is it because of my age?"
Since I don't even know how old Matt is, I know I can't say no because of that. Age wouldn't matter to me anyway. I shake my head and take my hand out of his to give us some distance. Nervously, I repeat my thought out loud. "No. Although, I don't even know your age."
"I'm only thirty. How old are you twenty-three? Twenty-four?"
"Twenty-four."
He looks me dead in the eye and asks me, "So may I ask why you won't let me take you out? I know some people have issues with age gaps, but that's only six years in between us."
He's starting to make me uneasy because he is so good looking and alarmingly direct. Yes, he can be good-looking and be a nice person, but looks can also be deceiving. I really don't want to be some kind of practical joke to him. I don't deserve to be ridiculed. It's been three years since I've dated anyone remotely seriously. When I was an undergrad, most of the guys at Broxton were the stereotypical drunken frat jerks. I took a year off before grad school to study for the GRE and save up money for tuition. I didn't date at all, just one casual fling as a poor attempt to branch out. Now that was a stupid idea.
I've been through the dating ringer enough. He may be older, but that doesn't mean his maturity level matches. Plenty of guys who are his age and some older, come to my job and act like life is one big frat party. I hear them talk about the girls they hook up with and how they mess with their heads, which only enhances my disgust for their personalities.
I figure honesty is the best policy to continue with, and maybe he'll drop the subject. I can continue to daydream about him from afar without the messiness of actually talking.
With what I hope is strong conviction, I tell him, "Because I don't want to be the punchlines in your joke or bet or whatever made you ask me. I refuse to be put in that kind of situation."
Oh boy.
He is now standing to his full six-feet-two height, and I’m shrinking in my average frame. Clearly, I read him wrong. He seems highly offended by my declaration. Through clenched teeth, he challenges, "I have half a mind to take you over my knee for suggesting I'm that kind of man. You shouldn’t be afraid or suspicious of me. Ever."
The idea of him taking me over his knee isn’t helping my flustered state. It's a fantasy I've had before and adding him into the mix is something I would never admit out loud. My emotions and hormones are as wild as a kaleidoscope right now.
Having lost my conviction, I mutter, "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you." Then I remember quickly why I was upset in the first place, and I narrow my eyes back to his. "Actually, no I'm not sorry. Your friends were laughing and pointing at us talking at the concert. It was rude, and I don't tolerate that sort of behavior in my life. I didn't do anything to you or your friends. I just wanted to have a good night with my friends. I'd rather blend in with a crowd than be the center of some prank. So again, whatever it is you and your friends have planned for humiliation, Leave. Me. Out of it."
He pinches the bridge of his nose and rolls his eyes closed as he takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, they are fading to a lighter brown from the angry dark chocolate I saw a moment ago. I'm standing stiff as a board as I see his left hand reach out to tuck some loose hair behind my ear. Normally, I'd slap a guy for touching me without my permission, but my body is reacting all over. I feel shivers down my whole right side from his touch, and an aching heat falls straight down to my core. This is a new feeling being deeply attracted to someone so quickly.
His temper briefly scared me
a little. Strangely, my intuition tells me he wouldn't lay a hand on me in anger. He'd find out faster than a firework about Aaron's profession if he even tried giving me a bruise.
He leans down and looks me dead in the eye when he says, "Honey, with those legs you have, I'd be stupid not to want you and only you. I'm sorry for what my friends did, and I'm glad you gave me an actual reason. I still think you should go out with me".
I attempt to open my mouth to decline politely one last time before the opening chord of 'Ain't It Fun' by Paramore sounds behind me which means Kylie is calling me. I shuffle my drink to the arm holding my jacket and pull my phone out of my back pocket.
Turning to Matt, I explain, "I have to take this."
I leave him there with his jaw dropped and run outside. I try not to spill my drink and take the call at the same time. Multi-tasking has never been my strongest skill. I have about ten minutes to spare before my class starts, which means she's probably calling before her night shift starts. We live in the same condo, but I barely see her when school starts and she gets stuck on night shifts.
Answering my phone, "Hey Ky, I have class in a few minutes. What's up?"
"I have to take my car in for maintenance and junk on Wednesday. Could you follow me to the auto shop on Meridian and Willow before we go to breakfast? I found out I'm also on-call for work. I may just need you to drop me off at work, and Dad can take me back to the mechanic's since you'll be in class."
Assuring her, "Yeah, that's no problem. Just make sure you're awake to leave. Why didn't you just ask my brother to look at it? You'd know he'd check everything for you."
"I don't want to take up his whole day. The place is doing it for free because I'm getting new tires too. My dad thinks the car's getting ready to go." She takes a shuddering breath. "I just can't part with it yet."
The Eyes That Own Me (Timing is Everything Book 1) Page 3