“To the point?” Professor Ida filled in with a small laugh. “From what I can tell, yes. It’s refreshing from a student.”
“I guess you could say that,” I agreed.
Chapter 2
Weston was waitingfor me at the far corner of the library with a stack of books and a pen behind his ears. During lectures, he never wrote notes or asked questions. Seeing him in the library now, actually focused on work made my stomach flip. There was nothing quite like watching someone dedicate their undivided attention to a task. Especially, if that said someone was an attractive football player and your project partner.
“Hey,” I greeted in a low voice as I claimed the seat across from him. I laid down my bag and started pulling out my laptop and notebook. The desk Weston chose was small for two sets of laptops, so he moved his closer to the edge and set his notebook on the keyboard.
He leaned back in his chair and watched me get set up before asking, “Have you been crying?”
My skin heated. Shit. I had a small crying session a few hours ago in my dorm. The session required a box full of tissues and an Advil. I’d spent a good half hour after the tear-fest applying makeup and eye drops. Now that it was nighttime, my puffiness nearly disappeared. Last I checked, the red in my eyes had faded too.
I tucked one of my braids behind my ear and ignored his question. Maybe if I pretended not to hear it, he’d pretend like he didn’t ask.
“So, I have a few ideas for our assignment. I did some research earlier,” I shared. There was a tingle in my fingers as I flipped through the pages of my atrocious handwriting.
Weston leaned forward, and slightly shut his laptop. “You look nice, don’t get me wrong.”
I didn’t know how to react, so I just smiled and whispered, “Thank you.”
Weston tilted his head, studying me for a moment longer before saying, “You worried about this project?”
“No.” I shook my head. While he stared at me, I tried my best not to make eye contact. “It’s going to be great.”
“It is,” he agreed. I could hear him shifting, and his foot knocked against mine lightly. In a knee jerk reaction, I pulled away and immediately felt embarrassed.
“Did something happen on campus?” Weston’s tone was quiet and stiff.
I finally looked up to meet his gaze. His hair curled around his temples, making him seem young only for the second. When my eyes trailed to his arms, I lingered at the impressive curve of his muscles. I swallowed and shook my head.
“I could take care of it,” he continued in a steady voice.
I frowned at his offer. My fingers paused on the cold sheets of notebook paper. “Excuse me?”
“If something happens to you and if no one believes you,” Weston said carefully. He removed the pen from behind his ear. I watched him pull out a sheet of paper from his folder. “Just give me a name and I can take care of it. No questions asked.”
“You don’t know me,” I said with a small laugh. My mind raced at the attention. Weston was offering to… Actually, I wasn’t even sure of what his offer entailed. But he looked at me as though any and everything was on the table. Could he see more than sadness in my eyes? No way. A stranger I barely conversed with couldn’t understand the darkness that haunted me.
“Sure, I know you.” He shrugged. “You’re Covee. The girl from design class who always has a question and an answer.”
“That’s not who I am,” I told him in a dry tone. I let go of wondering if he had seen something more. Noticing the crying, didn’t mean he noticed something deeper. “Can we just focus on the project?”
Weston gave me a curt nod. “If that’s what you want.”
His pen stayed trained on the blank sheet of paper, ready to make a mark. I studied his hand and then looked up at him. Would he really do something to someone if I just gave him a name?
“What would you do?” I tested as I leaned back in my chair with my arms crossed over my chest. “If I gave you a name. No context, just a name.”
“Then, I’d take care of it however you want me to. Threats, scares, pain,” he promised. “No strings attached.”
I eyed him. “You’re not going to hurt someone because a stranger told you so.”
“You’re not a stranger.” He rested his chin on his free hand. “And, you wouldn’t give me a name unless the person deserved it. Unless they did someone wrong.”
I blinked, stunned and slightly flattered that he wanted to help me conquer something unseen.
“You have enough faith that the person who hurt me deserves to be hurt back?” I asked while tilting my head to the side.
