That one sat with me long after I closed my laptop.
Each week, I’d walk into the classroom and sit in my same spot. I always arrived early — it was just part of who I was. But Shane was the same way.
He’d take his seat just minutes after I did, always two rows back.
And he’d look at me the whole way into the lecture hall, offering me a smile and a wink just before he was out of view.
I never turned around to look at him.
I knew better than to entertain whatever fantasy my stupid girl brain was trying to get me to latch onto. I’d seen firsthand whatlovewas, and it wasn’t anything like the story they painted in the movies and books.
Love wasn’t passionate kisses and thoughtful dates planned from beginning to end.
It was fists to the face and bruised ribs, often paired with a cheap piece of jewelry and a hollow apology.
And I wanted nothing to do with it.
But one month into the semester, Professor Reid blew up my attempt to stay away from the dark-haired, gray-eyed boy.
Reid clapped his hands together at the front of the room, the sound snapping everyone’s attention forward. “All right, folks, listen up. Your first big assignment is a field observation paper. You’ll spend a few hours volunteering at a local school, youth center, or after-school program of your choice. Then, you’ll write a paper connecting what you observe to the theories we’ve been discussing in class.”
A low murmur rippled through the room, some groans mixed with a few intrigued hums.
“Now, this will be a partner project,” he continued, voice carrying easily over the chatter. “You can choose your own partner today and let me know on your way out of class…” His mouth curved into a mischievous smile. “…or, if you don’t, I’ll happily assign you to whoever’s left. Your choice.”
The room erupted instantly, desks hinging and voices overlapping as everyone scrambled to claim their friends.
I turned instinctively toward a girl a few chairs away who was already angling her notebook in my direction. But before I could say a word—
“Hey!”
The voice carried above the chaos, unmistakable.
I glanced back just in time to see Shane McCabe vault two rows like it was nothing, his long legs eating the distance until he dropped into the empty seat beside me. His boyish grin was lethal, his gray eyes flashing like he’d just scored the game-winning shot. With one smooth sweep, he shoved the hair out of his face and stuck out his hand toward me.
“Partners?”
What could I say but yes?
• • •
Shane let me pick the location for our assignment. I chose Girls Inc, the after-school program I’d grown up in — a place that offered tutoring, mentorship, and a safe space for girls who needed somewhere to land after the school day ended. It was where I’d learned how to take risks, how to speak up, how to imagine a future bigger than the one waiting for me at home.
He didn’t question the choice.
He did not, however, let me drive myself there.
Instead, he insisted we ride together, picking me up from my dorm at two o’clock on a Thursday afternoon. I told myself not to read into it, even as a flutter of nerves — and something dangerously close to excitement — settled low in my stomach. He was just being nice. That was all.
Still, when he pulled up in a black Pontiac Grand Prix and I spotted two smoothies waiting in the cup holders as I ducked inside, my pulse kicked up a notch.
“Strawberry banana or berry blast?” he asked, weighing them in each hand.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“You don’t have to be hungry to enjoy a delicious smoothie from the one and only Smoothie Guy.”
“Smoothie Guy?”
