He’s right. Lucky and I spend a good twenty minutes talking about renewable energy. Honestly, I’m surprised how much he knows about it.
I take that back. I’mnotsurprised. Lucky is uber smart. No doubt he could kick some ass in a trivia contest, because he reads a ton and soaks up lots of interesting facts about everything. Plus, he watches old war movies for fun. That should tell you all you need to know.
“You wanna get a bite to eat?”
I’m not sure I’m hearing him right. “Eat?”
“Yeah, you know. Dinner? We could go to the Student Center.”
As if on cue, my stomach growls. All I’ve eaten today are some oldish cheese crackers that were in the front pocket of my backpack. “Oh, sure.” I smile. “Great.” The two of us stare at each other for a second. “Oh. Now?”
“Now is good, Foxy. It’s dinnertime.”
“Right.” I save my document, shut my laptop, and slide everything back into my bookbag. Standing, I heave it over my shoulder and grunt.
“Here.” He takes my bag from me and slides it over his shoulder. “Damn. No wonder you were wincing. This thing weighs a ton.”
“I’m used tothat.” I point to my bag. “I’m a little sore from boxing.”
“You okay?” He looks concerned, and it’s sweet as heck.
“Sure.” I smile. “I just worked some muscles that haven’t seen the light of day in a while.”
Lucky nods as we start the trek to the student center. Several people wave at Lucky. A couple of girls actually touch him as they stroll by, and for some reason, that really bugs me. “Do people just come up and run their hands on you like that?”
“People?”
“You know I mean girls.” Cue eyeroll.
“Some of them do.”
“Doesn’t it bug you?”
He shrugs. “Nah.” He looks down at me. “Does it bugyou?”
“You mean when I see girls touching you?” Should I answer that?
“No. When guys do that to you?”
I snicker at his ridiculous question. “You mean whenallthe guys walk by and grope me?” Sarcasm. Priceless.
Stopping in his tracks, Lucky turns. “Guys have been groping you?” He looks around central campus like he’s looking for a killer. “Who the fuck has been groping you?”
Reaching out, I touch his forearm. God, even that is made of rippling muscles. “Nobody, Lucky.” I release a nervous laugh. “Nobody is groping me. I was just kidding.”
With a look that tells me he’s not sure he believes me. I roll my eyes. “Who’s gonna gropeme, Lucky?” Seriously.Who?
“Knock it off, Becklyn. You’re gorgeous, and you know it.” Lucky turns back in the direction of the student center and starts walking again.
He thinks I’m gorgeous?
The Student Center is that building on campus with lots of little businesses inside. Like a copy center where you can make copies (obviously), but also bind books (I’m not really sure when I’d ever need to bind a book but I know where to go if I do.), and make posters. The university bookstore is also housed in the Student Center, along with a food court kind of place with a bunch of different food stations with everything from pasta to sushi. The minute we walk in, Lucky picks up two trays and hands me one. “I’m fucking starving. Meet you at the register?” He looks back at me expectantly.
“Sure.”Phew. Thank goodness. I’m not sure why the idea of Lucky walking around this place with me makes me nervous. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me eat. Nonetheless, I decide to make good food choices, and not because Lucky’s with me. Because after boxing with him yesterday, I feel better, physically. Sore, for sure, but better. At the salad bar, I make myself a small side salad with lots of veggies. At the grill station, I order up a grilled chicken sandwich. I’m very tempted to get fries but I decide on fresh fruit instead. Looking down at my tray, I smile with pride. My dinner looks both nutritious and delicious. Stopping at the condiment station, I load up on dill pickles and add a little barbecue sauce to my chicken sandwich but skip the mayo.
“That looks good.” Lucky eyes my tray when steps up next to me in the checkout line. “I should have gotten the grilled chicken.” He stares down at his tray. It’s heaping with what looks to be fried rice and vegetables. On the side he’s got a cup of soup and a salad.
“I’ll share.”
