"Beans & Books okay?" he asks, referring to the coffee shop just off campus.
I nod, still trying to reconcile the smiling jock beside me with Professor Harrington's description of "one of my best students."
We walk in silence for a moment before Gavin says, "You really didn't guess I was a psych major, did you?"
"How would I? It's not written on your forehead."
He laughs again. "Fair enough. Though I did try to hint at it during the mixer."
"When you avoided telling me your major and let me assume Sports Management?"
"I wanted to see your reaction when you found out," he admits, not looking remotely ashamed. "You're very expressive, you know. Your face does this thing when you're surprised; your eyebrows go up, and your mouth opens just slightly, but you try to hide it immediately."
I stop walking. "Are you analyzing me right now?"
"Force of habit," he says with an apologetic shrug. "Psych major, remember?"
We reach Beans & Books, and he holds the door open for me. The coffee shop is busy but not packed, with the usual mix of students typing frantically on laptops or highlighting textbooks scattered across the tables.
"Find us seats?" Gavin suggests. "What do you want?"
"Black coffee," I say automatically.
He makes a face. "Seriously? Nothing else?"
"Black coffee," I repeat firmly.
"Your arteries, Doc."
"Don't call me that."
He grins, undeterred. "Sorry. Force of habit."
"We just met," I point out. "It can't be a habit."
"Some things just feel right," he says with a wink that does absolutely nothing to my internal organs, and heads to the counter.
Oh fuck, why does it have to be him… and why is he so gorgeous? Dammit, stop it, brain!
I find a small table in the corner and sit with my back to the wall, a position that lets me watch the whole shop. A strategic choice, I tell myself, not a defensive one.
Gavin returns a few minutes later with two large cups and a plate with a beige pastry-like thing.
"One black coffee for the man with no joy in his life," he says, placing the cup in front of me, "and a cinnamon dolce latte with extra whipped cream for those of us who believe in happiness."
"Coffee isn't supposed to be dessert," I say, taking my cup.
"Says who?" He sits across from me, immediately taking up too much space with his broad shoulders. "Also, I got us a chocolate croissant to share because I'm starving after practice and you look like you haven't eaten since yesterday."
Before I can protest that my eating habits are none of his business, he pushes the plate toward me. "Take half before I inhale the whole thing. I need like five thousand calories a day during training."
I reluctantly break off a small piece of the croissant, more to stop him talking about it than because I'm hungry. Though I suddenly realize I am hungry. I didn't actually eat lunch.
Oh, that's good.I barely hold in a moan as the pastry practically melts in my mouth.
"So," Gavin says, after demolishing half the pastry in one bite, "tutoring. When works for you?"
"I have a full course load plus lab hours," I say. "My schedule is tight."
