My pulse raced, and I wanted to run. I’d never understood where I was with him, what I meant. He’d push me away, pull me close. Promise me one thing, then take it back. I hated feeling insecure because it made me think I was irrational, when Eric didn’t have his shit together and was toxic.
I marched through the exit doors, the fresh air hitting my face, and I breathed it in, welcoming to slight smell of fall. Like burning leaves and bonfires. The leaves changed from green to red across campus, and it was a sight. “The leaves are so pretty,” I said.
“What’s your new idea?” he said, not getting the hint I was ignoring him.
That made me snap my gaze to his. “You’re asking me what my project is? For real? Why would I tell you?”
He shrugged. “I want to know. You were gung ho about girls’ soccer and how it’s better than men’s and shit. It was all you talked about honestly. A little bit too much.”
“Whoa, okay, donotstart that with me.” My temper flared, the fire dancing along my spine daring me to do dangerous things, likepunchhis throat dangerous. I sneered at him. “My project ismybusiness.”
“You used to be so easy to be around.” He ran a hand over his face. “Now you’re even more—”
“MorewhatEric?” I shouted. I hadn’t meant to, but my emotions got the best of me like usual. I was loud and competitive and messy, andfuckEric for making me feel bad about it. “I’m morewhat?”
“Lorelei,” a deep, strong voice said.
My stomach swooped at finding Luca standing off to the right wearing navy joggers and a tight long-sleeved shirt. His hair blew in the wind, and he stared daggers at Eric with his dark brown eyes. He looked as intimidating as he was on the field and even hotter than in my imagination. That clenched jaw, stern face, biceps flirting with how far they could stretch his shirt… he painted a hot-ass picture.
“Is Derrick bothering you?” Luca stepped closer to me.
My lips quirked up, and I beamed at him. That comment had to bug the shit out of Eric. “Nope. Want to grab a coffee with me?”
“Yes.” He spoke to me, but his attention remained on Eric. He tensed his jaw before raising his arm and tucking me underneath it.
His warmth spread through me, and he smelled like laundry and apples. I tried not to breathe him in, because that would be weird, but man, Luca smelled good. He steered us away from the entrance to the lecture hall and down the stairs. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like he held me tighter against him the more distance we put between Eric and us.
He led us to a bench right underneath a tree with changing leaves. This wasthebench I’d always dreamed about. It sat perfectly center of the quad, right in front of the largest, prettiest tree on campus, and it belonged in a love story. I sighed, stared up at the leaves, and smiled. “This is the most romantic spot.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“The placement. Plus, the leaves changing over from summer to fall? Simply gorgeous.” I made the chef’s kiss gesture with my fingers. Luca’s gaze softened at me before he studied the area.
“You’re right.”
“Damn right I am.” I plopped down and moved my bag to rest on my knees. He remained standing, his brows furrowed as he stared at me. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Mm, you have something on your mind. I can tell.” I pulled out my notebook and pen and grinned up at him. Maybe it was the high of getting permission on the project idea or the fact he one-upped Eric with the wrong name, but I was feeling very warm and fuzzy toward Luca Monroe. Warm enough to wonder what he’d feel like to hug. His broad shoulders and large chest would feel nice, I was sure. My face heated, a stark contrast to the anger Eric caused me.
This was different.
Luca ran a hand over his hair, messing up the ends up a bit. “I don’t understand why you were with that guy and in the same class.”
“We had fun, and I had a different idea of what we were. Joining the same class seemed great last spring, and since we’re both marketing majors, being in some classes together is inevitable. The hard part is that we’re competing for an internship.” My heart skipped a beat. “I want it so badly I can taste it. It keeps me up at night.”
He snorted. “I relate to that sentiment. That’s how I feel about getting drafted.” He pointed to the spot next to me. “Can I sit?”
“Of course, please.” I patted the metal bench and smiled. “Appreciate you asking though.”
He lowered himself, his massive body almost touching mine. He wasn’t even sitting like a dude with wide legs, and his body took up over half of it. He leaned back and put his arm on the edge, his fingers just inches from my shoulder. I wore a sweatshirt and yet seeing his hand dangle so close had my stomach swooping. God, this was bad. I had to get it together.
He eyed his watch. “What’s your plan? I have twenty minutes.”
“Right. Duh.”Stop talking about leaves and shit.“I’ll hurry to get you out of here.”
He didn’t respond, and I scrunched my face. This was going well. “Okay, I’d like to visit the facility and ask about what socials they have. Are they on all medias? Do they have a newsletter created for family members or the public? Who manages outreach? Do they have a website for volunteers or just the main one with information? It’s outdated and could use some upgrades. Are they tracking usage? I would need those answers first before getting to work. I’d also—”
