The Freshman (College Years 1)

“It slipped my mind,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. I’m also trying to imply that maybe he slipped my mind too, though that isn’t true. Not even close to the truth. I’ve been thinking about him a lot.

Too much probably.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.” I turn away from him, lift my chin and start walking. Of course, he falls into step beside me. “When you’re not terrorizing me, what are you doing in the library?”

“What are you doing in the library?” he throws back at me.

I send him a withering glare. “Trying to write a paper.”

“How’d it go?”

“Terribly,” I answer, deciding to be truthful. “I was distracted.”

“By what?”

“My crazed secret stalker.” I come to a stop. So does he. “Otherwise known as you.”

“My texts aren’t the only thing that distracted you,” he says with a sly smile. “I saw the way you stared out the window. There wasn’t a lot of typing going on.”

“Ugh, you were totally watching me. That’s creepy.” I resume walking. So does he. We’re in the more heavily populated part of the library, not too far from the front desk and the exit doors, and there are so many people milling about. “Why didn’t you just approach my table and say hi like a normal person?”

“Like I said, I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Really.” Please. He’s full of shit.

“That’s why I texted you. I thought my name would be in your phone and you’d know the text was from me,” he further explains.

I suppose he’s right and it is my fault I forgot to punch in his information when he gave me his number. You think I would’ve, since I was halfway waiting for him to text me after our magical Saturday night. Though maybe it wasn’t so magical for him.

He’s here though, isn’t he? So maybe it was.

We exit the library, the cool fall breeze washing over me and sending a chill over my skin. I shift my backpack on my shoulder, wishing the sweater I tossed on earlier this morning was thicker, and I glance around, noticing a group of guys clustered in a group not too far from where we’re at, watching us with unrestrained curiosity.

“Friends of yours?” I ask when I see Tony flick his chin at them in acknowledgement. They all do the same thing in return, looking ridiculous.

Ridiculously hot, but whatever.

“Yeah. We’re on the football team together,” he says, his voice casual as he studies them. Like no big deal.

“Wait a minute.” I turn to face him. This is a very big deal. “You’re on the football team?”

He nods.

“You play football. For the Bulldogs.” He better not be lying to me. I’ve met more than one liar in my time here at college.

“Well, yeah. I don’t get much playing time though, since it’s my first year,” he explains.

Huh? “Because you’re a transfer? Did you go to community college first?” I ask.

“No.” He slowly shakes his head, his full lips curving upward. “I’m a freshman.”

Okay, now I’m full-on gaping at him. “You’re a what?”

“A freshman,” he repeats slowly.

I squint up at him, fighting the panic that’s rising within me. “How old are you?”