The minute I shift, so does he.
Our eyes lock again, and a blush forms at the base of my neck.
He notices instantly. His not-so-simple brown eyes draw to the exposed skin around my collarbone before they flash back to my face with amusement.
“Hey,” he says. Or I think he says.
I pull my headphones down to my neck. “Sorry?”
His lips kick up. “I was just saying hey.” His voice is singular. It’shim. I think I’ll never forget the sound of it as long as I live.
My brain cannot fathom why he’d want to make conversation with me, rain drenched and off-putting as I’m presenting with my book and headphones. Are Knoxville boys known to be friendly? I only moved here from Bristol a few days ago. I haven’t even unpacked all my things yet, and the only person I’ve spoken to besides Zara is my new boss at the restaurant where I just picked up a waitressing gig.
“Hey,” I say back.
“I’m Liam.”
After a beat of absorption, I say, “I’m Paige.”
Liam reclines, resting his book on his stomach. He’s wearing a rain jacket and jeans, his feet stuffed into waterproof boots. My gaze snags down to the sweating plastic cup of iced coffee at his feet, untouched.
“Are you going to be a freshman?”
The blush returns, scintillating and violent this time. Liam’s eyes move down to my neck again before dipping back up. But instead of smiling like he did before, his gaze holds steady, almost searingly so.
“Yes,” I say.
It’s a lie.
I’m not enrolled in college at all. But Zara is, and now, so is my high school best friend, Maisy, which means I’m familiar with the school.
Part of me wishes I’d considered college more seriously back in the fall when Maisy was applying. But my middle sister, Folly, was still living at home back then; she and Dad easily convinced me college was an unnecessary extravagance.
Since then, Folly has all but vanished into thin air, running off with some guy she met, and after I graduated high school this past May, my dad decided to spend some time abroad.
I couldn’t stay in Bristol alone. Not when everybody I’d ever loved, who had ever loved me, was gone from that place.
Where else was I supposed to go but here?
When I floated the idea of moving to Knoxville to Zara, she was over the moon. We’ve always been the closest—she’s only two years older than me, compared to my oldest sister, Maren, who has me bytenyears—and immediately suggested we get an apartment together.
“What dorm are you living in?” Liam asks, voice deep.
“Brown,” I fib, giving him Zara’s freshman-year dorm.
“The scholarship dorm,” he says.
“The smart people dorm,” I counter.
“The smart peopleandathlete dorm,” he throws back. “That’s where I lived last year. There’s this secret study room on the fifth floor.” His fingers rap on the cover of his book, and I study his dexterous hands, hardly cataloging what he says next. “If you go past the coed bathroom and take a right after the janitor’s closet, you’ll find it.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I say.
“Course.” His lips kick up again, so softly.
Part of me feels guilty for letting this lie drag out, but what are the odds I ever see this boy again? He’s too handsomenotto havepartners lining up for him, too easy to talk with to get in his own way.
“So which are you?” I ask.
