My body tenses up from the feel of his breath on my ear and with a shaky hand I reach back for my card. I know he’s watching my every movement. I can feel his eyes on me.
“Lola, ready to go?” I ask her, trying to regain my composure back.
She nods, giving me a knowing look. To help me out she reaches for the cart to push it out of the store before he grabs for it.
“Thank you for everything.” I tell him.
“You’re welcome…do you need help loading everything into your car?” He asks, his voice low and laced with something.
Worry? Regret? I’m not sure.
“We got it, thank you though.” I smile at him and follow Lola out.
Before we walk out the door I turn back to look inside the store once more. He’s still standing there watching us walk away and a feeling of sadness washes over me. The feeling of not ever seeing him again consumes me.
“You should go back and give him your number, like the slut over there did.” Lola tells me.
“No, let’s just…go.” I know I should have, but my past will catch up to me. I really don’t need to add another person in my life, to complicate things.
Lola shrugs and pushes the cart out of the store.
“What the heck was that?” Lola shrieks, when we are out of the store.
“What was what?” I ask, trying to sound curious. I know she’s talking about him.
“Um…there was so…so much sexual tension going on in the store, I almost couldn’t take it.” Lola laughs. “Don’t you even try to deny it.”
I stay quiet, while waiting for her to pop open her trunk.
“Angel, he kept glancing at you every chance he got and you didn’t take your eyes off of him…it was crazy.” Lola tells me, while she opens the trunk of her car and grabs some of the bags to load them in the car.
“He made me nervous, that was all it was.” I grab the rest of the bags, the gallon of paint, and load it all in her car.
“Whatever you say.” Lola walks to the driver side.
I close her trunk and walk to the passenger door.
“You can still go back and give him your number. You still have time.” She says when I am sitting in the front seat.
“No, let’s just…go.” I say, adamantly.
Lola doesn’t say anything more to me, as she drives us back to the house. I was too busy thinking about what had just happened at the hardware store, to even formulate any type of conversation.
Lola and I painted my room over the weekend, and then we shampooed the carpet. I didn’t even know he had placed carpet cleaning solution into the cart. Finding the bottle just made it so much harder to forget about him. Yes, I thought about him all weekend and wondered if I would ever see him again.
I wrap a pink scarf, with fringes on the ends, around my neck and try not to notice the scars on my hand. Will they always remind me of my past? I shake my head to clear out the unwanted images. I take a quick look into the full body mirror that Lola helped me pick out for my room on our shopping spree.
I try not to fuss, too much, over my outfit. I am wearing a tight white shirt, skinny blue jeans, and tan wedges. I really don’t know how college students dress, because this will be my first day, to step foot onto a college campus.
Lola offered to take me to school, but I refused, I want to take the bus so that I can get to know Minneapolis. The bus stop isn’t too far from the house, so Lola doesn’t put up much of a fight.
I grab my backpack off of the floor and shove my phone into the front pocket, without looking at the screen. It’s not as if anyone is going to call me anyway. I do need to call my uncle, though. He’s the reason I am here in this city. He’s also the only family member who still wants to be in my life. He told me before I boarded the plane, that he would leave it up to me whether or not to call him. I should give him a call later today.
The house I am living in is surrounded by other homes that are occupied by other college students. My journey out of the house was more of a big deal than it should be. I almost walked back into the house and shut the door. Maybe I shouldn’t go to school? Maybe I should just go back home? But, I don’t have a home anymore, and that thought makes my legs walk away from the house and to the bus stop.
The welcome packet from the University of Minneapolis said to check out the booths in front of the library and to sign up for a tour of the campus. I make it a point to not walk by the library.
I double check the map of the college before climbing off the bus. I am at the right stop. Climbing off the bus almost stops me again, but I begin my mantra, in my head, to keep me moving in the right direction.
You have to make a semblance of this second chance at life. Just one foot in front of the other, keep going.
My stop is right in the middle of what looks to be downtown, but I’m not sure. All I see are a lot of tall buildings around me. I know there’s a bridge called the Washington Avenue Bridge that I am supposed to cross, in order to get to the science department. I just hope the walk is a rather long one, because I have about forty minutes to kill, before class starts.
The wind blows through my hair as I am walking on the Washington Bridge and I stare out to the Mississippi River. I stop for a moment, peace and calmness surrounds my body, and I close my eyes to take the feeling in.
Letting out a long deep sigh and I continue my walk across the bridge.
When the Science building comes into view, I let out another deep sigh. I have only cut my wait time in half so I still have another twenty minutes. I pull out my class schedule from my backpack and double check the room number I am supposed to be in. I look at the sheet and find the right spot, Room 215.
Walking into the lab classroom, I make it a point to stop in the doorway to survey everyone already in the room. My eyes land on arms that are covered in tattoos. They look like oil paintings on his manly arms. They were beautiful, even from where I was standing halfway across the room. I desperately want to walk over, rub my hands across his tattoos, and study them.
I move my eyes over the rest of this man’s body. He has on a white t-shirt that is stretched to fit his well toned chest and a black, Famous hat that he wears backwards. I don’t understand why I’m so intrigued by him. I feel like he is someone that seriously shouldn’t even be in this classroom. Just the way he is sitting screams I’m too cool for this shit. I don’t even know if I can call, what he’s doing is sitting. He has his chair pushed out away from the desk, slouching with his elbow resting on the back of the chair.
He looks up at me and mouths, “What?” with a smirk on his face.
God, why does he look so familiar?
I shake my head and nervously tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I turn from the door to make my way down the rolls of tables; making the mistake of glancing back, I catch his eyes. Hard, hazel orbs, narrowly, zone in on me, daring me to sit somewhere else, and not with him. I walk over to a table that I think is far enough away, pull my notebook out of my backpack, sit, and pretend to write something.
“Hey pink … you should sit over here,” he calls out to me, his voice demanding.
I half way peek through my lashes to find him staring at me even more intently. I feel my cheeks flush and I know they are turning a shade of red. I hate that. Not wanting him to see me get flustered, I look away towards the back of the room.
“You shouldn’t ignore me,” he says.
I continue to pretend not to hear him.
“You can come over here willingly, or I can go over there and remove you myself.” He says, with conviction.
I give up trying to ignore him. There is no point in trying, he isn’t going to give up, but I am stubborn. I glare at him and give him my, I will challenge you look. He raises one of his perfect eyebrows at me and smirks. He then, slowly shakes his head, as if he can’t believe that I’ve just challenged him.
He stands up like he is headed in my direction and before he can take a step, I grab my stuff off of the table as
fast as I can and sashay over to him. He gives me a shit eating grin and pulls out my chair for me.
Bastard.
“What is your problem?” I hiss at him, as I slump onto the chair.
“You,” He teases, leaning in so close to me that his hat brushes against my face.
I twist my body so I can face him and I find myself looking at a dangerously, sexy guy. He is even more good looking up close. This guy has the total package going for him. He has a strong, square jaw line with stubble, blazing hazel eyes that are heart stopping, and then add in his crooked grin, which I believe is his signature smile, and all of that together makes him a trouble maker through and through. I stare, well actually, I study his pretty face, and realization dawns on me, ‘this guy is not going to make my life easy.’
I feel my throat close up and I turn away to catch my breath.
“Are you okay?” He asks moving his hand up like he is going to pat my back.
I turn my body to avoid his hand; he gets the idea that I don’t want to be touched, and drops his arm.
“I think I should go back to my seat … over there.” I nod my head towards the seat I just vacated.
I stand up to grab my backpack, ready to move back to my old seat, when he grabs my wrist. My attention falls to bewitching hazel eyes, which are now more green and dark. He looks upset.
“If you want to fucking pass this class, I suggest you sit the fuck back down.” He’s speaking so low I almost didn’t hear what he just said. But, just the hardness in his eyes alone, makes my body wants to give into his demand. He lets my hand go when I am safely in my own seat next to him.
“Right,” I mutter removing my eyes from his.
“You did the right thing,” he says.
The hardness in his eyes is gone. The green shade is back, mixing in with the browns of his eyes. His crooked grin and mischievous look is back. He is, indeed bipolar.
Great, I have a sexy, dangerous, trouble maker and bipolar lab partner, who will drive me insane. My life just became more of a shitty mess.
“So…did you like what you were looking at?” He cast his eyes down at his body.
“Um…I don’t know what you are talking about.” I lie. I know I was standing there like an idiot, looking at him as if he was the first male species that I have ever found hot.
“Yes, you do. The way you stood over there.” He points to the door of the classroom, causing his bicep to flex, and his tattoos to come to life. “You were practically undressing me with your eyes. It’s okay; don’t feel ashamed, I get that a lot. Girls dig my looks.” He chuckles softly.
“What happened to the nice guy I met at the hardware store?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“What happened to the shy and timid girl I met at the hardware store?” He retorts back, that crooked grin of his is plastered on his face.
“You’re an ass.” I hiss.
“Holy shit, you must be wearing your sassy pants today…you’re so feisty and I like that.” He grabs some of my hair and slides his fingers slowly through it.
I toss the hair he grabs hold of, over my shoulder and narrow my eyes at him. “You know, you can’t just go around touching me like that, it’s not right.”
He places his forearm flat on the desk, his other hand on the back of my chair and he leans in close. His lips are an inch away from mine and I am afraid my heart is going to beat right out of my chest. I reach a shaky hand to his chest and push him away. When he’s far enough away from me, I let out the breath I am holding in a loud gasp.
“Boundaries,” I tell him, after I catch my breath.
“I didn’t touch you, isn’t that what you wanted.” He teases.
My brows furrow and I point a finger to his chest. “Don’t touch me and don’t come near me like that again.”
His face drops. “You’re upset.” He murmurs.
He twists in his seat to face the desk again and for some reason I want to pull him in for a hug and console him.
I’m going crazy.
“Hey,” I whisper.
He turns his head and cocks his eyebrow to let me know he hears me, but he doesn’t say anything else.
“Are you still going to help me get through this class?” I ask, a ghost of a smile on my lips.
He stares at me for a moment, shakes his head, and laughs softly. A new student walks into the classroom and takes away his attention. Then, as if he sees a ghost, his soft laugher dies out and his face contorts in angst. I follow his gaze to the door where his attention has shifted to a girl who has just walked into the classroom. She is dressed all in black. Her jet black hair is ironed straight and is down to her waist. Her make-up is heavy and dark and her eyes look emotionless.
She walks over to an empty desk at the back room and sits down. She stares straight ahead. I realize I am watching her as intensely as he is.
“Who is she?” I ask.
“No one,” he answers looking down.
I don’t ask him anything else. My eyes are still on the girl in black.
“So what’s your story?” He asks, trying to take my attention from the girl. “I know you’re not from around here.”
“I’m not,” I return my attention to him.
“I’m not…Are you going to finish that sentence?” His brows knit together.
“I’m just…not from here.” I answer, looking down.
Please, Please, Please. Just take my answer and leave it. Please don’t ask me anymore questions about myself.
“I’m going to try this again,” he says. “Where are you from?”
“California.” I answer.
Good, this should be a good enough answer for him. He shouldn’t need me to elaborate on my answer.
I hope.
“I knew it! Stuck up valley girl,” he exclaims.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, flabbergasted.
He throws his head back and lets a laugh rumble from his chest and out of his mouth. I really want to slap that gorgeous mouth of his.
“Well, I guess we have to continue our conversation another time.” He tells me, after his laughter subsides.
I look around to see that all the previously empty seats are now full and that class is about to begin. When my eyes return to him, I find him watching me, with a look I can’t quite put my finger on. But, I do know the look on his face warms my body immensely and I feel all tingly inside.
The teacher walks in, goes directly to the board, and writes her name and her email address. She’s full of energy. She is bouncing from one foot to the other while she is writing. When she is done, she drops her things on a desk, and then turns to the class.
“I hope everyone is prepared and excited to take this class. If you have the slightest doubt that you are not ready for this class, please leave now. Reregister when you feel that you are ready.” The professor stops talking and stares out at the class for a couple of seconds. No one moved. The room was dead silent.
“Okay. I see that everyone in here is ready to start.” She smiles, genuinely. She points to the board where her name and email address is now written. “My name is Heather Ross. You can call me Heather, Ms. Ross, Dr. Ross, teacher, professor, or even hey you, but please do not call me Mrs. Ross.
She moves back to her desk and pulls out a stack of papers from her briefcase.
“Here’s the syllabus, make sure to pass them around to everyone.” She tells first the person she hands the stack to.
My lab partner takes this time to speak to me again. “You know, you don’t have to try so hard with your outfit. This is college, no one really cares, and a lot of people come to class wearing sweats.” He watches my reaction with amusement.
I stroke my hands over my scarf and furrow my brows.
“I will not wear sweats out of the house.” I snap. “I like my outfit and I will dress how I see fit.”
“Hey, calm down. Just a fucking suggestion, you can take or leave it.” He says. “What I really meant is that
you’re a beautiful girl, so you really don’t have to try so hard.”
I smile, but I still do not like his last statement so I fire back. “I am not trying hard. This is me, take it, or leave it.”
“I will take you,” he says, his voice rough.
I have no response, but the warm tingly feeling intensifies throughout my body.
The handout gets to us and we leave each other alone long enough to read over the syllabus.
The class moves along quickly. As soon as it is over, I immediately shove everything into my backpack and walk out of the class before anyone has even had a chance to clean up.
“Hey, why are you leaving in such a hurry?” My lab partner calls out to me. “I didn’t get your name.”
I stop walking and wait for him to catch up to me. I turned around just as he reaches me.
“Angel.”
“What?” He asks, as if he hasn’t heard me.
“My. Name. It’s Angel.” I say slowly to make sure he hears me this time.
“Holy shit! Why do you have such a sweet name?” He laughs.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I bite out.
“It’s just that you are not anything sweet! Way too bitchy.” He says, shaking his head.
I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, gain some confidence back, and I decide to try again.
“What’s your name?” I retort.
“Kevin,” He smiles, smugly.
“You don’t look like a Kevin,” I snap.
I don’t wait for him to respond to my statement. I turn on my heels and walk away; his laughter follows me until I’m out of the building.
I am still fuming when I get to the bus stop. So, I do what I do best, I people watch. For the past two years, I have become extremely fond of people watching. It’s therapeutic for my soul. I can escape from my life and imagine how it would be to live the life of the people I watch. My eyes land on a couple with two young kids. The mom has one child on her lap, while trying to feed her other child sitting next to her. The dad, well he is off in la la land.
Typical.
I move along to other people. There are lots of students around me. They look stressed out and it’s just the first day of the semester. Those poor souls.
Not at First Page 2