I knew he was trying to ease into the topic of us and I was grateful. “I wouldn’t say harassing is the right word,” I said, unsure of why I was defending Jason. “He’s just a little…intense.”
“I thought that, too, when he came to me,” Chance nodded.
“He came to you?” I asked, in surprise. “About me?”
“He didn’t mention you by name,” he replied. “And even if he had, I wouldn’t have known whom he was talking about. But he did want my advice about talking to women. Apparently, he chose not to take my advice.”
“I don’t think he can help it,” I said. “He just comes off a little… Well, he comes on too strong and…”
“Desperate?”
I suppressed a smile. “Yeah.”
“I thought he was a decent enough guy when he came to me,” he admitted.
“I thought so, too,” I nodded. “The first time…”
“Ah…”
“It’s just that he doesn’t seem to get the message,” I said. “And, I’ve been as blunt as I possibly can be.”
“I think he’ll stay away from you now,” Chance said. He sounded sure, and I thought perhaps he was right. Jason had looked pretty embarrassed by Chance’s statement.
“I hope so,” I said.
Another silence settled between us, and I knew it was time to talk about Saturday night. I wondered for a moment if I should initiate the conversation, but every time his eyes met mine, I lost all the words forming in my head.
“Did I apologize for not recognizing you?” Chance asked.
I smiled. “Yes.”
“You know, I was drawn to you well before that night,” he revealed.
I frowned at him, unsure if he was just lying to make me feel better. “No, you weren’t.”
He smiled. “I’m serious. I noticed you the first day I started lecturing. You were seated in the first row, and you were wearing the same jacket you have on today. Except you had paired it with loose jeans and a black Coachella t-shirt. And, you were wearing your glasses.”
I felt my jaw drop slightly, as I realized he had really noticed me. “You really noticed me?” I asked, in amazement.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he repeated, sounding amused by the statement.
“I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the most…noticeable girl out there,” I said. “In fact, I’m often been called plain and forgettable.”
Chance frowned. “By whom?”
“Guys in high school.”
“Since when do high school boys know shit about shit?”
I laughed at that. “I believed them.”
“You should stop,” he said firmly. “They were all bastards. You are stunning.”
“You still think so?” I asked, in surprise.