The rest of the tour is blessedly uneventful. We get our Mcards, and Chad walks us around a little more until he eventually drops us off at the south quad, which he mentions is the football players’ dorm.
I don’t notice the guy I ran into again, so he must not have been with our group, which gives me a smidgen of hope I won’t run into him again—not that I even allowed myself to look at his face.
I pull up the little map of campus on my phone once most of the group disperses because I don’t want to ask how to get back to the union where we started.
“You’re not eating?”
When I look up, I’m surprised to see Mia, still rocking the pigtails, peering at me. “I wasn’t.”
“You got your card, right?” Her brow furrows.
“Yes, I just—”
“Want to sit with me?” she offers before I can finish. It would be rude to say no, even though I would much rather go home.
I slip my phone into my pocket. “Sure, thank you for asking.”
Mia purses her lips. “It’s mostly for selfish reasons. I saw you bump into Gravlin.” I’m sure my face turns bright red, but I’m not sure she notices because she’s already walking and pulling the door to the dorm open. “I felt bad for you since it seemed like a real accident, and he probably gave you an earful, but more importantly, I want to know if he smells as good as he looks.”
Mia swipes her card through the reader near a small kiosk with takeout containers, then looks back over her shoulder to make sure I’m still with her. I’m not capable of speech yet, so I just swipe my card and tag along behind her, processing what she told me. Not only do I now have a name for the guy I ran into, but I also know people witnessed it, and he must not be an incoming freshman if she knows him.
“So does he?” she urges before we even make it through the seating area to the cafeteria.
“Yes,” is my one-word answer.
“I knew it.” She clenches her fist. “I’ve never been lucky enough to have him in a class, and he doesn’t take time for students not in his classes. Hell, he barely speaks to anyone. I wonder what he was doing there today.” She pops her hip out and taps her card on her thigh. She’s so animated and bright, she makes me feel sunny just being around her.
“His classes?” I question. Is she telling me he’s a very fit member of the faculty?
“Yeah, he’s in the graduate program, a TA. What do you want to eat? Newbie’s pick.” She does a half spin, showcasing all the different options behind her.
“What’s good?” I counter.
“Most of it really. Just make sure you come here if you want fish or sushi, it’s always the freshest. I’m going to grab a pizza.” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder. “I need to finish my project, and I won’t feel like coming back out when I’m done later.”
“Okay. I think I’m going there.” I point to the nearest place.
“Meet you after,” she says, already walking away.
Once I have my chicken burger and fries, I spin around and spot Mia in the center of the room, waving like a mad woman. She has no problem being the center of attention. Pretending this is completely normal, I walk over to her table and place my tray down before pulling out my seat.
“They’ll text when my pizza is ready,” she explains after resting her chin in her upturned palm. “So, what did he say?”
“Nothing. I apologized and hid in the crowd,” I tell her honestly.
Her mouth pops open in an O before she starts to snigger. “You probably surprised him. He usually makes his boundaries really clear, not that I can blame him. He’s super gorgeous and doesn’t really date, from what I hear, so naturally, we all want to know why and see if we can be the one to tame him. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, want some?” I push my plate a little closer to her, and she snags a fry. I want to stop talking about him. I’m going to be reliving that moment for years to come, probably when I’m just about to fall asleep so there’s nothing else to distract me. Fingers crossed I don’t have any classes with him. I doubt I’ll even be able to look him in the face.
“So what made you decide to become a wolverine? Oh fuck. Forget I just asked you that. It’s like they are turning me into a minion. Where are you from?” she amends.
“California, mostly.” I shove a fry into my mouth. It tastes like sawdust. I hate talking about myself.
Mia’s mouth snaps open again, this time in clear outrage. “Why the hell would you come here from California? That’s where I’m going as soon as I can get out of here.”
I think about telling her the truth, that out of all the different schools I looked at, none of them called to me like this one, but I settle on the more acceptable answer, one that doesn’t invite so many questions. “I wanted a change.”
“Ah, your parents are assholes,” she surmises.
