I spend a few hours putting them everywhere I can think of on campus before driving into town and hanging them there, too. This is something I refuse to be quiet about; I refuse to let people get hurt and not try to dosomethingabout it.
When I get back to my dorm and still don’t have a text from Ash, that deep-seated feeling of loneliness returns—one that I haven’t felt in a while, not since before she came into my life.
*
“Hey, Zuri. Whatare you up to?” Curtis sits across from me in the dining hall for breakfast the next morning.
I try not to wince. It’s not that I want to be rude to Curtis or anything, but I’m not in the mood to manage him today.
“Not much. Just eating before class,” I say. “How about you?”
Curtis and I went on one date when I was new at Ashford U. It didn’t go well. He’s a nice guy…and when I told him I didn’t think a second date was a good idea, things got a little awkward, but it’s been fine ever since.
I listen for a moment as he talks to me about his semester and a frustrating professor who has been on his back. My class starts soon, though, meaning I need to get going, so I say, “I hate to cut this short, but I have to head to class. I’m going to be late.”
He pauses for a second before nodding, his floppy blond hair moving around as he does. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. Okay. Have a good day!”
“You too, Curtis,” I say, grabbing my things. I heft my bag over my shoulder, then take my trash, dumping it in the can before heading out.
I rub my hands together when I get outside. What in the fuck made me think going to college somewhere cold would be a good idea? It’s in the low fifties now, with spring on the horizon, so it’s not as bad as it could be, but it’s something I’m still getting used to.
I love the state, though, have always been called by it, and since my father was from Massachusetts, I always knew I wanted to come here.
I’m almost to the science building where my class is when I see Aislin sitting on the stairs that lead to the door. Thebuildings here are gorgeous—all red or white brick with Gothic architecture—but they have nothing on her.
As wild as it sounds, my heart stumbles just seeing her. She is so damn fine. She keeps her shiny dark hair long, hanging over each shoulder, with a part in the middle. She’s white; her skin pale, but with a pink flush. Ash looks like a model—her face like she’s a sculpture or something, but what I love the most about her are her green eyes…well, that and her mouth.
I stop moving when she looks up and sees me, then start heading her way again. She pushes to her feet. While I’m wearing a coat, she’s just in a hoodie. It’s oversized, and I think it belongs to Tiernan’s boyfriend, Dean. She’s wearing loose-fitting jeans, something she doesn’t do often, and wait…are those mine?
“Hey,” she says when I reach her, greeted by her familiar scent of oranges and sunshine.
“Hey,” I counter. “Are those my pants?”
She smiles, and my heart flutters annoyingly. “Yes. I like wearing your clothes.”
“And Dean’s.” I point to the hoodie.
“I’d rather wear yours.”
I groan, dropping my head back to look at the pretty blue sky. It looks like it should be warmer than it is—filled with fluffy white clouds that aren’t doing what I hoped to distract me right now.
“Would you?” I ask when we make eye contact again. “Because I wouldn’t know it by the lack of communication lately.”
Ash winces. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s not you. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Yeah, well, how am I supposed to know that if you don’t tell me? We talk, Ash. It’s what we do. Or at least, it’s what I thought we did, but now that I think about it, we don’t talk, do we? Youask questions and keep anything personal to yourself. How are we ever going to work if you don’t trust me?”
“Idotrust you,” she hurries out.
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not that simple.”
I shrug, unsure what else to say. “Maybe it’s not, but the answer sure as shit isn’t to leave me out in the cold. I won’t deal with that, Ash. Not even from you.” It kills me to tell her that. I want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, maybe anythingin my whole life, but I won’t accept less than I deserve. “I’m here,” I add.
She has to know what that means. She has to know that even if I don’t fully understand the scope of what I’m getting into, I understand enough, and once she shares the rest, I’ll make the decision that’s right for me. “And if it’s too much, then I should be able to make that decision. Unless…”
“I want you,” she says, tears in her eyes. “I want you. It’s just…” She looks around. Luckily, we’re alone; everyone’s in their lessons, the way she and I should be. “I don’t want to do the wrong thing for you.”
