Chapter 15
We satside by side in the cold classroom. My leg bounced under the desk, making the frame shake ever so slightly. I could barely keep my nails out of my mouth and couldn’t even pay attention long enough to take notes.
On the other hand, Weston was typing on his computer with calm strokes. I kept sneaking glances in his direction, trying to get some hint at what he was thinking. His shoulders were relaxed as he stared at his open Word doc. You wouldn’t have known I’d just accepted this guy’s no strings attached invite around an hour ago.
“After,” I had told him in the quad.
He had smiled. “Do you share a room?”
I shook my head. “No. Taylor and I have separates.”
“Your place then,” he told me. “After.”
The clock’s hands seemed to be speeding. We only had a few minutes of class left and then, I’d be leading Weston into my apartment. To my bed. My leg continued its panicking as our professor began her closing remarks.
“The assignment first drafts are due tonight at twelve,” Professor Ida reminded us. “Don’t be late because I don’t give extensions unless someone has died or won a billion dollars and is offering half.”
“If I won a billion dollars, I wouldn’t even think twice about coming back to this joint,” a guy mumbled.
A few people snickered. Others started whispering to their partners. I glanced over at Weston.
“We’re good. Our draft is ready for submission,” he assured with a smile. “Don’t worry about a thing unless you want to.”
I nodded, relieved. It was the first and probably last time I’d have a project partner that took care of everything.
“Alright,” Professor Ida said with a clap of her hands. “Get out of here. And no questions afterward, please. I’m trying to beat the traffic home today.”
She didn’t have to tell us twice. Everyone gathered their belongings in a hurry and started filing out the classroom in small groups buzzing with conversation. Weston followed me out of the door, carrying his bag and mine.
“I didn’t realize you were old-fashioned,” I tried to tease. The words came out shaky and not at all flirty.
“You have a sixteen-inch laptop and probably most of your dorm room in here.” He laughed and made a show of curling my bag up and down like a weight. “You could use the help.”
“It’s just the essentials,” I defended with a grin.
“Well, your essentials make you walk slower than my great grandma,” he told me.
“And we’re in a rush?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We can go as fast or as slow as you’d like.”
My skin warmed when I realized we weren’t talking about walking anymore. We made our way back by the quad. The crowd was still thick and growing larger because of recently finished classes. I tucked close to Weston’s side and somewhere along the line, he laced his fingers through my own.
He let me lead us towards my bus stop. I loosened my grip on his fingers as we neared the benches to give him an out. I had a boyfriend back in high school who hated to hold my hand. And I had often heard my dad complaining about handholding when he was still with Mom. So, I figured, maybe movies exaggerated that part of romance. Maybe couples only held hands when it was necessary?
“My car’s right down the street,” Weston offered. He tightened his grip around my limp fingers.
“Parking sucks though,” I reminded him. Even if it was faster, Weston would have to park nearly a half mile away from my building.
He shrugged. “Rather take my chances with parking.”
I let him tug me after him towards the parking lot. For every stride Weston took, I had to take three. Our height difference wasn’t particularly impressive, but hands down, he was in better shape than me.
“Which position do you play?” I asked. “I never asked. I assumed quarterback since you’re the captain and all. But I remember how you don’t enjoy assumptions.”
He glanced over at me; eyebrows raised in surprise at the random question. “What do you know about football?”
I shrugged. “I just know that the quarterback calls the shots. And you guys enjoy throwing coolers full of sports drinks onto your coaches after victories.”
