by Lauren Helms
"I knew you'd want to go." He chuckles next to me as we cross the campus.
"Will you go with me, Cameron? Please, pretty please?" Turning to him, I pull his arm to me and lean my head into his arm. I give him my sweetest, pleading eyes.
He doesn't shake me off but wraps his arm around my shoulders. "Raps, of course, I'll go with you. Not that I don’t want to be seen on your arm, Raps, but eventually, you’re going to need to find someone you actually want to date."
"Do you already have a date?" Suddenly, I’m worried about overstepping.
"No, not at all, but you really need to get out there. You need to date."
"Pfft. Says whom?"
"Says anyone who finds out that this gorgeous twenty-year-old in her third year of college has never been on a date."
"Do study dates count?" I ask.
"Was kissing involved?"
I blush. There was this one guy last year, James. We had several classes together, so we became study partners.
"Oh, my God, Raps, have you been holding out on me?" Cameron's jaw nearly hits the ground.
"Shut up. I told you about James. There was kissing, maybe a little over the shirt, over the pants fondling, but that was about it." James was just as inexperienced as I was, but we had some very fun, unproductive study dates.
"Oh, I remember him. The nerd."
I push him away. "Shut up. Nerds can be very sexy."
"Was James a sexy nerd?" He hits me with a look and tells me he's not going to believe me if I say yes.
I sigh in defeat instead. "What does it matter?"
"You're right: it doesn't. What matters is that you need to have some fun. You need the full college experience. Date around, kiss some guys…"
"If I were a dude, would you tell me I needed to sleep around?" I question with a quirk of my eyebrow.
"I absolutely would, but you aren't a dude. Your Zella Raps, and you need to take it slow. Have fun before you get freaky between the sheets." He imitates a humping motion, and I push him again.
"This is a strange conversation."
"We've had stranger," he counters.
I nod, chewing on my lip as I think about dating.
Cameron bumps my shoulder with his as we come to a stop in front of Keane Hall and asks, "A penny for your thoughts?"
"I'm not even sure what to look for in possible dating material."
"You'll know." He sounds so confident.
"How?" I ask in an uncertain tone.
"When you meet a guy that piques your interest, you talk to him. As the conversation progresses, you'll get a sense if he's date-worthy or not."
"Sounds so easy," I mutter.
"It is, and don't be afraid to ask him out. Most likely, if you’re both feeling it, he'll ask you, but don't be afraid to go for it." He walks backward, leaving me at the entrance of the Art building.
"It's going to be fine, Zella, promise. You'll probably even enjoy dating."
I give him a tight-lipped smile and wave goodbye as he makes his way to his own class.
All through my graphic design class, I think about what Cameron said. About how for the first time since, well forever, I met a guy and was instantly intrigued by him. Our conversation was certainly entertaining, but he didn't ask to see me again, so maybe the interest was one-sided.
I hope I see him again. If I'm lucky, maybe he will try his smolder on me again.
Sigh.
A girl can only dream.
4
Ryker
I stare out of the window in the second-floor study room in The Labyrinth, the university's well-funded library. I'm not sure why I'm here exactly, I normally do my studying in my dorm room. I can count the number of times I've stepped foot in this building to study over the past two years on one hand. Now there are other, more exciting, reasons to be here. There are some secluded rooms throughout the building if you just happen to find yourself here with an attractive and willing study partner, if you know what I mean.
Actually, I know why I'm here. I've been on high alert for a tiny blonde since I left the tower yesterday afternoon. I'm not sure when I will see her again, but I know I will. This campus isn't that big. I was on my way back to my dorm after my last class and decided I'd never find her if I hide away in my dorm, so I made a detour to the library. She seemed like the studious-type. I’ve spent a small amount of time here in the library over the past couple of years, so I pick a study room that is sure to see a lot of foot traffic. Plus, it has a great view of the courtyard. But as I settled in, I realize she probably did her studying in the tower.
I stay put, though. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when I see her again, but she intrigues me.
I've got my Beats on, listening to some old-school The Strokes when I hear a far-off banging. I glance around the tiny unit and see my roommate, Wells, knocking on the glass window-wall. I push my headphones off my ears and rest them on my shoulders; the music steams from them as Wells opens the door and leans against the frame.
There's a lazy smirk on his face. "I'm surprised the building didn't go up in flames the moment you stepped inside."
"Nah, that's only the Church of Perpetual Sorrows," I joke back. Things between us haven't been easy in a while, so I play along.
"Well, do us all a favor and keep your distance." His easy-going tone clearly isn't something I'm used to. Freshman year, we were paired up with two other guys in the dorm. Despite clicking and having a blast, things changed when he found out about my computer skills. By sophomore year, he wasn't shy about his disdain of my special skill set. Second semester, things went downhill when he took a job with on-campus security. He drew a line in the sand and said if he caught me doing anything illegal, he wouldn't hesitate to turn me in.
"Will do, Officer."
He straightens, and his causal stance is a ghost in the wind.
I play it cool, of course, but it fucking sucks to lose your best friend over something stupid. Truth was, the shit I was doing, it was all stupid. Petty stuff, but it wasn't hurting anyone.
Even though we steer clear of each other most of the time, we still continue to room together. When it was time to log our request for roommates, he asked and I said sure. Now, as upperclassmen, we are in The Lofts and share a two-bedroom suite.
Really, I didn't care to have a new roommate; I'm kind of a loner. Wells feels it's his civic duty to keep an eye on me or some shit. Whatever. Our situation could be better; it would be nice to be friends again, but what we've got going on works.
"So, you planning on coming to class tonight?" He's clearly got his panties in a twist now that I called him officer. I don't know why it pisses him off. I’ve been doing it since he became a student officer.
"What's it to you?" Humanities really isn't my cup of tea. I went the first week to check it out but didn't go back last week. Honestly, hadn't planned on going this week either.
Wells shakes his head and looks to the ceiling. "You know what, I don't even know."
"It's not like I'm going to get dinged for attendance. The Prof doesn't take it. And I can always get access to study notes, and well, other things." I smirk at him when his eyes narrow at my admission. I've got an old hook-up in the class, and we have an arrangement: she gives me copies of her notes, and I make sure her drunk social media posts are wiped before her parents see them.
The girl likes to party. Personally, I think she should embrace her crazy, but she's afraid Mommy and Daddy will cut her off. Wells doesn't need to know any of this. Let him think I hack into the school’s server for the notes and test answers.
Don't get me wrong, I will, and have if I needed to, but not for this class.
"I've wondered for a couple years now, how are you still here? Your attendance rating has got to be under fifty percent." He crosses his arms over his chest, acting like the tool he pretends to be.
Chuckles burst out of my mouth. "You really want to know?"
Wells takes a deep, calming breath. I can't help but
be entertained at his annoyance.
Changing tactics, Wells walks into the room and leans his back against the glass. "How's your uncle?"
I know how to push his buttons, but I give the dude some credit, he knows how to push mine as well. I have more control over my emotions than he does, so I keep the smile plastered on my face.
"Uncle is good." It's all I offer.
"Still grumpy about your choice of extra-curriculars?" He's referring to the fact that on occasion I've been on the top of the Dean's shit list, and therefore, my uncle's.
My parents died when I was a toddler. It sucked. I spent a few years in the system before my dad's long-lost older brother decided to do me a solid and take me in. By take me in, I mean, he sent me off to boarding school. Since I've been in his care, eleven or so years now, I've only spent about a year's worth of time with the old ass.
He's a self-made millionaire, some high-powered real estate mogul living the ultimate bachelor life. He didn't want his lifestyle cramped by some bratty nephew he didn't want.
Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful he pulled me from the system. However, my multi-millionaire guardian does not provide everything I want and need. He gives me just enough to get by. I never had nice, new things like my rich-as-fuck classmates, and I never seemed to fit in with the students at the expensive boarding schools I attended.
But I adapted. It's what I do.
If I'd been left in the system, I wouldn't have gotten the education I did. While I didn't love living away at school, I did relish in the fact that I stayed in one place year after year. I experienced teachers who cared more for their students than my uncle ever did for me. I hadn't planned on going to college, since I didn't want to pay for it, but I was surprised when he requested I go to his alma mater. One hundred percent paid for, plus a tiny expense account for school-related expenses. I thought, why the hell not?
I'm living a pretty damn easy life. I do what I want. I hack into shit for fun. I do just enough school work to keep my grades passable. As long as I keep up my grades or don't get caught hacking, I don't hear from my uncle.
But, over the past couple of years, I've been stupid, and I've gotten caught. Petty shit, mostly, but I've had to answer to my uncle. I learn from my mistakes. I get smarter.
I chuckle at Wells's question. My uncle’s stance on my hacking hobby remains the same. "He's always been grumpy and will die grumpy."
"True that." He laughs, and for the first time this year, I think we are actually enjoying each other's company. The moment ends, and he pushes off the wall. "Alright, well, see ya around, Ryker."
He gets a few feet out of the room when I call him back. He doesn't seem perturbed when he turns and walks back in. He steps up to the table, coming further into the room than before.
"Hey, there's this new student. Transfer. Tiny. Blonde. Lots of hair." I lift my hands and stretch my arms out to the side of my head, then drop them to the side. "Like long. Very long hair."
His eyes narrow. "Why?"
"I just met her. I haven’t seen her before. Call me curious."
"I know her." Is all he offers.
"Oh, great to hear, I'm happy for you. Carry on." Clearly, he's turned back into a tool bag.
"Why do you want to know her?" He studies me, thinking I'm up to no good.
"I didn't say I did. Just wanted to know who she was." I don't mention I know her name. I also ignore the fact that I could easily log into the school registrar’s system and look her up and find out her schedule, but that feels an awful lot like stalking.
He takes another assessing glance my way and puffs his chest. "She's one hundred percent not your type, Ryker."
The dude has a crush. I lean back in my seat and cross my arms, grinning. I can't say I'm happy about this, but I probe. "Ah, so you've got a thing for Blondie?"
"No. She's my friend. That's it." He looks flustered. It's easy to read the embarrassment on his face.
"You mean, she friend-zoned you. Shit, bro. That sucks." This is good news, but bros before hoes and all that, I can't let it on that I'm happy about this information.
"Not at all. Just friends. She's not into dating. Anyway, see ya around." He turns and stalks out.
Right before he closes the door behind him, he looks back at me. "Maybe if you came to class, you could get your questions answered on your own instead of camping out in the library, waiting for a glimpse."
Damn. He's on to me.
A few hours later, I walk into the small, forum-style classroom. It's a large class of about a hundred or so. This size class isn't the standard here at CamU.
I casually walk up the stairs of several rows of seats, pretending to look for an open seat. About mid-way up the room, I see her.
Her hair is in another braid, and she's laughing at the guy sitting next to her. Situated on her other side is Wells. He wears the same smile on his face as the guy making her laugh. Immediately, I get it. If I had her laughing like that, I'd sport that same look.
I notice the empty seats in the row in front of her and take my chance. I side-step down the row, not bothering to apologize to the people I'm bumping into.
Before I have a chance to say something to her, her bright green eyes find mine. Her laughter dies off, but the smile on her face remains. She remembers me.
"Hey there, Blondie. Fancy meeting you here." I drop my bag into the seat and notice Wells out of the corner of my eye, shaking his head.
I should be worried about what he might tell her, but turns out, I don't care.
She smirks. "You don't remember my name, do you?"
I wink at her. "Sup, Wells."
Turning around, I sit down in my seat and hear him grumble behind me.
I feel several pairs of eyes bore into the back of my head. Wells, because he's worried about my intentions with the shortcake, and the other guy next to her is probably pissed I just stole her attention away.
And the third pair of eyes, the only ones I care about, belong to the shortcake herself, Zella Raps. I have not been able to get her out of my head. I need to see this through, just so I can get back to my normal routine.
5
Zella
He's sitting right in front of me. I'm usually a cool cucumber, but this guy in front of me makes me giddy. He's all I've been able to think about, and I have to admit, I've been looking for him everywhere.
I'm surprised he just magically showed up in my class. Is he in this class? Surely, he wouldn't crash just because I'm in here. Suddenly I flush; I can't believe I even thought that. I blink quickly, forcing myself to stop staring at the back of the guy's head.
He has some really nice hair, though. It’s full and such a deep, dark brown that it looks black. My fingers itch to touch it, but I pull them off the desk and fold them into my lap. There, they are less likely to reach out and run through the thick locks of soft hair.
I'm sure he can feel my stare, mostly because I can feel Cam's beside me. I look toward Cam, and yup, he's staring me down. The smirk on his face tells me he’s on to me and knows what I'm thinking. I glare at him. He huffs out a silent snort.
I try to focus on the professor, but my concentration is broken moments later when I remember Ryker and Wells know each other. I straighten with the realization and peek at Wells. He's slumped back in his seat and looks grumpy.
Hmmm. I wonder if he and Ryker don't get along. Would Wells tell me more about Ryker?
I bit the inside of my cheek as I contemplate where this evening has gone.
After my conversation with Cameron about the Glass Ball, I considered asking Wells to be my date. I've only known him for a few weeks, but he's become a good friend. Besides Cam, he's one of the people I hang out with the most here.
He's kind, funny, and good-looking. Plus, he doesn't get distracted by all my hair. Trust me, it's a thing.
Only, I'm not attracted to him. I don't have butterflies when I see him. I don't have thoughts about him that make me blush and hope no one is around t
o see my reddened face.
Ryker, on the other hand, causes all that and more. The thought of asking Ryker to go to the ball with me makes me nervous. He'd probably turn me down. I'm not really up for my first date request to be rejected.
I'm lost in thought again, staring into Ryker's hair, when I'm elbowed in the side by Wells.
I turn to him and glare. "What?" I whisper.
"You're staring holes into his head. Trust me, he doesn't need anymore," Wells hisses back.
I give him another glare for good measure and lean back in my seat. I look down at my notebook and realize I haven't taken one note. Normally, I'm a very detailed notetaker. Apparently, not tonight.
I don't want to risk drawing attention to myself, so I scribble down a note on my blank paper then turn the sheet toward Wells.
Do you know him well?
Wells looks at my note, reads it, and rolls his eyes. Well, dang! He lazily reaches over and writes his reply.
I do. He's no good for you.
My eyebrows dip in confusion. I ask why.
Trust me.
I bite my lip. I do trust Wells, but there's something about Ryker. I don't believe he's bad. How is he no good for me? Biting my lip, I shake my head at our notes. I make a mental note to have him explain his reasoning later. Right now, I need to focus on class.
A long thirty minutes later, class is dismissed. The butterflies in my belly take flight as I anticipate interacting with Ryker. The students around us are chatting, packing up, and leaving. I slowly close my binder, lean over, and put it away—dragging the whole process out and waiting for Ryker to turn around.
But he doesn't. He doesn't move to stand.
I must look confused because both Wells and Cameron are staring at me. My eyes go wide. "What?" I ask.
Cameron chuckles, and Wells huffs.
"You've got it bad, girlfriend." Cameron laughs.
Wells shakes his head.
I give them both a look to shut up. The last thing I need is Ryker thinking I've got a crush. Well, I do, but he doesn't need to know that yet. I drag my eyes back to where he sits.