He’s big as hell.
“Yeah, but do you have to sit next to me?”
“Where else am I going to sit?”
Now, I’m getting really annoyed.
“Are you playing games with me or something? We don’t know each other. I’m waiting for someone, and you’re in the way. This isn’t a free table at the cafeteria. I’m paying for this seat, so move to another table. You can’t eat with me.”
“How do you know I go to CGU?” He wiggles an eyebrow and I notice a small permanent scar above it.
It’s oddly sexy.
“What?”
“You mentioned the cafeteria.”
“I just said that because I assumed. And why aren’t you getting up yet?”
“Oh, I should have led with this when I sat down. The guy you’re waiting for is not coming today, Willow.”
My eyes widen.
“How do you know my name, creeper? And what do you mean he’s not coming?”
My stomach drops.
I called in a huge favor with my professor at the student tutoring center to be assigned to Aaron during Christmas break, so now I’m wondering why he bailed. Did Aaron find out that I arranged this? If so, I won’t be able to ever show my face again, because nothing stays secret on a small college campus like CGU. I’ll be the laughingstock of my entire dorm. Gossip spreads through those five floors like wildfire.
“There was a switch at the tutoring center, and it’s your lucky day. You’re getting me as a student instead.”
No, no, no!
It took me three years to build up the confidence to even figure out a way to meet Aaron. I mean, we’ve crossed paths a couple of times over the years, but our only verbal exchange was an awkward “excuse me” in the cafeteria line. I’m a quiet nursing student. He’s a party legend. And never the two worlds shall meet.
This can’t be happening.
“I didn’t approve a switch.”
“Professor Lee approved it. You can call him if you want to check,” the behemoth assures me with a smirk.
“I don’t have my professor’s phone number on speed dial.”
I wish I did though, because I don’t believe anything that this overgrown kid is saying right now.
“Huh, you don’t? That’s odd because I do.”
Is he being a smart ass or is he serious? I don’t read subtext all that well. It’s better when people are direct with me.
“Who are you?” I ask, slightly raising my voice, because I’m about ten seconds away from throwing these glass salt and pepper shakers on the table at this dude’s head.
“You don’t know who I am?” he replies with a dumbfounded expression, as if that’s an impossibility.
“Uh, no, should I?”
“I’m Freak,” he says in a self-important tone, as if that should explain everything.
“You mean you are a freak?” I sneer.
