by Auryn Hadley
"More like a girl on a mission." I grabbed the papers and shoved it all into my backpack, once again feeling that irrational dislike of a complete stranger. I didn't even care that he was hot. I just wanted to be anywhere but near him. "Gonna be late for class."
"Seriously, what's your name?"
"Sienna." I tugged at my coppery hair, hoping this would be the end of it.
He held out his hand. "Mike."
I took it reluctantly and his fingers closed on mine, lifting my hand to his lips. It was cheesy and completely transparent, but the Adonis before me was absolutely beautiful – in a toxic sort of way. The kind of way that made a girl not want his lips on her. Like a coral snake. Everything about him made my insides scream that I should be running as fast as I could.
This anti-social reaction I kept having to hot guys had to be some inner insecurity, but it was a hard feeling to ignore. Smiling weakly, I tried to pull my hand free, but Mike refused to let go, trapping me. Panic started to claw its way up my spine at the constraint just as the leaves rustled in a blast of cold air. The rain couldn't be far behind. I didn't want to piss this guy off, but right now, polite was ranking a pale second to my pretty purple bra.
"Leave her alone, Mike."
Nick appeared from out of nowhere. It was like a moment out of the Twilight Zone. Here I was, my copper hair whipping around my face, my fingers held by an evil golden god, looking at what had to be a fallen angel. They were both beautiful but in completely different ways. Nick made the phrase tall, dark, and handsome seem blasé. Of course, that's when the rain started.
"Damn it!" I squealed, snatching my hand free to grab the last of my things from the ground.
As soon as I had the loose papers, I rushed back toward the building I'd just left, clutching my backpack to my chest. Desperately, I pressed my body beside the doors, hoping for some meager shelter.
"All yours, Nick," Mike said, winking as he darted inside. "See ya next time, Red!"
I groaned and rolled my eyes. First off, I hated being called Red. It was a thoughtless nickname that said nothing about the person under the hair color. Second, it was a thoughtless nickname. I mean, how hard was it to think of something new and different? I had blue eyes. Why couldn't someone choose a name that reflected that? Nope. It always came back to my mane of ginger hair – which wasn't even really red.
"Asshole," I hissed at his quickly retreating back.
Nick stepped beside me under the small overhang by the door and started pulling off his black leather jacket. The rain hadn't come lightly. Oh no. The skies had opened wide and were dropping an ocean on us.
"Yeah, um." He glanced at my shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching, and held out his jacket. "Sorry, I don't have an umbrella."
Was he really offering me his jacket? "By the time I get there, you know this'll be soaked, right?"
"It'd be anyway since I'm going to the same place." He shrugged. "Pretty sure it's not going to lighten up before we get to Calculus. You really want to brave this, or blow it off?"
"I can't. Math is my bane. I need a C at least." But I wanted to. I really wanted to do anything to spend more time with this guy.
Nick smiled. "Ok, how about I make you a deal?" He tilted his chin across the street. "Let me buy you another coffee, we'll ditch class, and I'll make all those crazy numbers make a bit more sense."
"Really?"
He gestured to the open lip of my backpack. The spine of my Art History book was clearly visible. "Help me figure out the difference between Art Nouveau and Art Deco?"
"Deal." Art, I understood. Calculus, not so much.
Across the street ended up being a lot farther than it seemed. Granted, it wasn't as far as the Edison building, but by the time we scampered into the door of the coffee shop, I was soaked. Completely, totally, mascara-streamingly soaked.
So was Nick, but soaked looked good on him. His dark shirt clung to his amazing body, and I swear those jeans were using it as an excuse to tease me. Never mind the way his long hair hung down his back, one strand plastered to the side of his neck.
We paused inside the doorway to shake off the water, surprised to find the place nearly empty. I used it as an excuse to check and see how transparent my shirt had become. Very.
"Mind if I hang onto your jacket a bit longer?"
He looked at me with those dark eyes for a second, then a grin split his lips. "I was going to say yes, but..." He laughed. "No, it's ok. You want to grab one of the couches and I'll get drinks?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Have a preference?"
Of course I did. "Caramel Mocha?"
"Can do."
Dropping onto the sofa, I checked my backpack. The plastic lining had kept my stuff dry, but my Calculus syllabus was a bit more wrinkled than it had been that morning. Not that it mattered, I thought, dropping my things on the coffee table. I just needed to be able to see the test dates.
I also checked my shirt again and wiped at the smudges under my eyes. I probably looked like a mess, but unlike most twenty-something girls, I didn't carry a mirror with me. My shirt, on the other hand, was a tragedy. The old, thin tee was wet nearly to my navel in a large V from my neck down. I should've zipped the jacket.
"Your dessert," Nick teased, placing the drink before me. He had a simple cup of black coffee. "So how do you know Mike?"
"I don't. I just ran smack into him while trying to beat the rain. Literally."
He nodded slowly, his eyes scanning me. "I grew up with him. Guy's an ass. Just thought I'd give you the head's up."
"Pretty much the impression I got. He was pulling out all the cheesedick moves."
"The hand kiss?"
I nodded. "Yeah, after helping to grab everything I dropped. Seemed like he expected me to just fall down and worship him or something."
Nick's jaw clenched. It lasted only a second, but I saw it. "If you're into that sort of thing, I guess. Look, he, um... He has a reputation."
"Ah. Can't say I'm really shocked."
"And a thing for redheads. Just figured you should know. Rape culture and all that." Nick grabbed his cup, took a long sip, then changed the subject. "So, what's got you stumped on calculus?"
"Well, I understand the part with numbers. The rest?"
Leaning back, he grinned. "Right. This is probably going to take more than an hour. How about we start with art, and I can meet up with you later this evening for calculus?"
"Uh." My witty responses abandoned me. "Yeah. Sure."
"Great. Your place, or mine?" He flashed me another of those panty dropping smiles he did so well. "I'm pretty sure I'm not a stalker, but you might be."
I'd only accused him of that twice. "How about yours? I mean, since you've already been to my place, it only seems fair."
He looked at me again. It was like he could see right through me and was judging something. His face was a little too serious, and the set of his eyebrows made me think he was debating with himself. "You aren't intimidated to be alone with a bunch of guys?"
"To learn calculus? If you can really make this crap turn into something other than gibberish, I'll brave Sam's underwear on the chairs."
"Nothing like that. Promise. If you're not sure, I get it, but yeah." He nodded at my Art History book. "Fine Arts credits are kicking my ass."
"It's cool, Nick. Besides, I'm kinda curious to see y'all's place. What time do you want me there?"
"Six?" He leaned over and lifted a damp lock of hair behind my shoulder. "If you show up in purple, I might even be convinced to whip up dinner and make it a date." So evidently he had noticed the transparency of my shirt.
"Decide you've gotten to know me well enough?" Please, oh please!
Never mind that Nick wanted to cook me dinner? Not buy, not take me to, but cook for me? And the D word? A date with him? If I was lucky, that'd lead to a different D word. I certainly wouldn't turn down rolling in bed with him.
I had to be setting myself up for the biggest let do
wn of the century - or maybe this was just how things worked in college. You know, a little studying, a casual hookup, and never hear from him again. But with the kind of guys I usually dated? Yeah. A casual hookup with a man who looked like sin incarnate was still a step up. Never mind that he'd been talking to me for half a week now. That was longer than some relationships I'd had, so would it still count as casual?
"Yep," Nick said. "Dinner and calculus. See, I'm a real catch."
His dark eyes met mine. The look was gentle but protective, and maybe a bit feral. He was all man, but nothing about how he'd acted so far set off my warning bells, unlike those other guys. Nick treated me with so much more respect than Aaron ever had. Besides, it was two blocks. If he went crazy, I'd be out the door and jogging like the devil was on my ass. That, or I'd end up in his bed. Let's be honest here, the second was more likely.
So what to wear? How the hell was I supposed to impress Mr. Beautiful? Kinky lingerie? I had none. Super sexy short skirt? Dirty; I only had one of those. Jeans and a t-shirt. Yeah, that I could do.
He must have seen my mind whirling. "Just promise you won't change shirts, I'm getting fond of that one."
"Deal." I nearly sighed in relief. Jeans and t-shirt it was. "So. Art Deco?"
I grabbed the book and flipped it open, pointing out the nuances between the two styles. Nick asked question after question, picking apart the pieces as if he knew them. There was just something sexy about a man who liked to learn. Even better, he honestly seemed interested in my favorite subject.
He shifted closer, pointing at pictures while we talked. Eventually, the book ended up in his lap with me leaning a little closer than I should. His arm rested on the back of the sofa casually, and his broad pecs were just inches from my face. Geometric patterns and bold colors slowly began to take a back seat to the unique spicy scent of him and the heat radiating from his damp shirt.
He knew it, too. I was probably acting like a desperate bimbo, but damn. When a man this good-looking – who didn't seem to be a complete douche – wanted to talk about my favorite subject, I may have turned into a little bit of a nerd. Not much. Ok, maybe a lot. It was like my tongue removed any connection to my brain and took on a life of its own. We went from Art Deco to Renaissance, slowly working to ancient history. Flipping back, page after page, I ran off at the mouth, discussing the nuances and inspiration for each, and Nick soaked it all in.
"The Ishtar Gate." My finger pressed into the picture. "Probably one of the most amazing things I've heard of. Glazed bricks and bas-relief. What I wouldn't give to see it in person."
"Which one?" His fingers toyed with the hair laying between my shoulders, nearly distracting me enough to miss the question.
I turned to look at him slowly. "The reconstruction in Berlin, not the replica in Iraq."
"Yeah." He smiled weakly. "I thought Art History was going to be about history, not stuff from a couple of decades ago. I love the old stuff, but the new eras? It all just blends together."
"The early twentieth century is not 'just a few decades ago.' It's a century ago!"
He grinned and shrugged. "So? It still looks the same."
I shook my head. "Nope. Art Deco is the industrial age. Nothing but modern designs, like the Chrysler Building. Art Nouveau is all organic and flowing. It came from the decades before."
"So the new is the old, and the decorative is the modern. I can do that." Nick pushed the book closed. "You're good at this, dove."
I laughed and pulled myself back to my side of the couch, deciding I liked the nickname. It wasn't the first time he'd used it. "You're so full of shit."
"Usually. So, dinner... Anything I should know about before I make big plans? You a vegetarian?"
"Nope. I'll eat just about anything that isn't mac 'n cheese. College diet you know. I've been on it since I graduated high school."
"Pretty sure I can top that." He glanced at his watch. "You have another class?"
I shook my head. "Nah. Done for the day."
"Me too. You want another one of those super sweet things you pretend is coffee?"
"My turn to buy." I didn't want to seem like a greedy bitch, right? The least I could do was take my turn.
Nick had other plans. "Don't bruise my ego, Sia. I'm pulling the awesome gentleman thing here. Jacket for the rain and a coffee for a pretty girl."
Yep, that was it. I blushed. Not only had he called me pretty again, he'd also either messed up my name or just given me the first nice nickname I'd ever had. I managed to stammer something that sounded like an acceptance and excused myself quickly, heading to the ladies room.
When I pushed through the swinging door, my eyes went straight to the mirror. I'd just been caught in the rain with a drop dead gorgeous man who just called me pretty. Why hadn't I checked to see how I looked before now? Because before now, he just wanted to know about Art History. It'd been little more than a way to blow off a class I hated and hang out with a man that had been sending too many just-friend vibes in between his flirting.
Now? I leaned into the mirror. Ok, it wasn't too bad. My mascara was smudged, but it looked more like a really sultry smoky eye and not like a drowned rat. The rain had tamed my hair a bit, and I looked rather ok. In fact, I looked like a typical college girl wearing a jacket that obviously was too big and a shirt that had dried enough to make my purple bra little more than a hint. I kinda looked good.
Walking back to our couch, I couldn't wipe the smile from my face. Maybe I needed to get stuck in the rain more often.
Chapter 6
That evening, I jogged across the street, dodging the light traffic easily, and stepped through the pretty white picket fence. I was five minutes early. Enough to make it seem I was punctual, but not enough to come off as overly eager to see Nick again. I was, but there was no reason to let him know that.
The place was a lot nicer up close. That wasn't the only thing that was nicer. Heading to the front door, I couldn't miss the car parked outside the detached garage. I wasn't sure, but that looked like a little Porsche emblem. Nick's car had been really nice, too. Evidently money wasn't a problem for these guys. I sighed, hoping to calm the nerves flipping in my gut. Calculus. I just needed to learn calculus. Anything else was just icing on the cake, right?
At the front door, I tapped gently, seeing something moving behind the beveled glass. It grew larger and the handle clicked before the door swung open. On the other side, my worst nightmare greeted me. Unconsciously, I took two steps back. It was Nick's creepy friend.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"Uh." Great. Perfect time to stammer, Sienna. "Yeah, Nick in?"
"Nick!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Company!"
Sam peeked around the corner. "Nice. Let her in, Luke."
Stepping back, he did, lifting an arm to welcome me into their place, but his eyes followed me like a hawk watching a mouse. "Thanks," I muttered, trying to stay just out of his reach.
"Yeah. How do you know Nick, anyway?"
I held up my textbook like a weak shield. "Calculus. Talked him into explaining it."
Sam dropped a hand on Luke's shoulder, almost like he was holding him back. "Nick's in the kitchen. Be nice, man."
I looked up the hall. "Where's the kitchen?"
"Show her," Luke grumbled, closing the door and heading into the room Sam had just vacated.
From the sounds, someone was gaming. The rattle of digital guns coming from the speakers was rather distinct. Growing up, I couldn't remember a time when I hadn't heard that. Granted, having foster brothers meant shooters were on the top of their list of entertainment. Peeking into the room, I saw a massive television, couches placed around it, and Luke sitting down to reclaim the controls.
Sam was looking in the same direction. When Luke groaned, he chuckled and gestured down the hall. "Yeah, that's what happens when you walk away mid-game, dude." Then he smiled at me. "Kitchen. Lemme show ya."
"Thanks."
The house was huge
, which didn't help my nerves any. We walked past what had once been a parlor, at least one other living room, and down a long narrow hall before turning into a formal dining area – complete with the fancy furniture – and into the kitchen. Nick turned at the sound of our steps and smiled.
"Spaghetti ok?" he asked.
"Sounds perfect."
Sam slapped Nick on the shoulder. "Sounds like a date," he teased.
Nick shrugged. "Was hoping to make it like that, but there's knowledge on the line. Sia's calculus challenged." That was the second time he'd shortened my name like that.
"Then you're the one to teach her." Sam smiled at me. "Nick's got a thing for numbers."
"She's got a thing for art," Nick said.
That got Sam's attention. "You just draw?"
"Lately. I suck at poetry, but I enjoy writing, painting, and music. Not that I can sing, mind you, but did the band thing in school." Did I really just admit to that? Quick, save face. "I'm a certified art dork." Nope, that didn't do it.
"You ever go to the Thursday poetry thing at Cool Beans?" Sam leaned against the counter casually, but the corner of his lip was slowly moving higher. "Want to?"
"Back off," Nick teased. "Go find your own."
Sam gasped and shoved his hands over his heart dramatically. "You're killing me, man. Here I was, trying to flirt with the prettiest girl in the house and you're totally cockblocking me."
"Yeah." Nick waved a tomato paste covered ladle at him. "Now I'm threatening you. Out, or you'll be cleaning. Tell Luke to stop being a dick."
"Luke's always a dick." Sam grinned. "Have fun, Sienna."
"You tell them I was coming?"
"Maybe." Nick turned his attention to the meal. "It's entirely possible that I told them if they acted like frat boys I would kill them in their sleep. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious." I shrugged, hoping I didn't look as nervous as I felt. "So I guess it's dinner first, then my quest for knowledge?"
"Definitely."
He moved a pot off the burner and started turning dials on the stove. While he worked, I may have watched his tight shirt flex a bit. It was entirely possible that I was distracted by the curve of his ass. I felt like someone had taken my idea of the perfect man and put it all together in Nick. Granted, beauty was only skin deep, but it was a very nice skin to look at. The only thing I couldn't understand was why he was interested in me at all.