In psychology, there is a moment where I feel like I’m crazy. Someone is watching me, or at least that’s what I think. Every time I look around or look behind me, there are no eyes on me.
Did Melanie tell the whole school about being suspended from practice? How could she possibly blame what she did on me? It was her actions that got her into trouble.
I shake the feeling off and take as many notes as I can from Professor Glaspy. When class is over, I slide my laptop into the orange case and stuff it into my bag.
Someone clears their throat behind me, and I look over my shoulder. It’s Stephen Hunt. There’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He’s wearing a black-t-shirt today that hugs his body even more so than usual. Broad chest, wide muscled shoulders, a nice, kissable throat.
Ugh. What am I thinking? He’s a manwhore.
“Can I help you, Stephen?” I ask, standing, and slinging my bag over my shoulder.
“I heard about what happened to your ankle.”
My eyes shift up to his.
“I’m sorry that happened. Is it feeling better?”
“It’s fine.” I step around him onto the staircase that leads up to one set of double doors. “Did Melanie tell you?”
“No. My roommate’s girlfriend was talking about it. She was laughing about it and told me Melanie was bragging about tripping you. I didn’t find it funny.” His jaw ticks and his eyes avert from mine, as if he’s trying to save me from embarrassment. Luckily for him, that embarrassment has passed.
“It’s over with, so don’t stress too much about it. And I’m walking now. I’ll be back to practicing in no time. I’m okay, but thanks for checking in.” I give him a sweet smile, softening up. He was just checking on me. I can appreciate that.
I walk up a few of the steps and he trails behind me. Before I can make it to the door, he speaks again. “Would you…maybe want to catch dinner with me sometime?”
I turn quickly, brows drawing together as I focus on him again. “Dinner?”
“Yeah.” He runs a hand over his auburn hair, taking the two steps up to be on the same level as me. But, of course, he’s so much taller and I have to look up at him. “I was thinking burgers and shakes at Shake Shack. Something simple. I just…I’d really like to hang out with you. Get to know you—but I understand if you’re busy.”
I don’t want to, not after hearing how much of a player he is. But why is it that he seems so sweet right now? So…understanding? How long has he been thinking about asking me to dinner? Is this all just a part of his scheme? Is this how he ropes girls in? I’ve noticed he talks to a lot of girls. Automatically saying yes seems like a silly thing for me to do.
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll have to give it some thought and let you know,” I tell him, and then I walk out of the auditorium.
He follows me, catching me by the elbow and spinning me around to face him again. I gasp as his hand lowers to mine, and he says, “You’ll need my number if you’re going to let me know, right?”
My heart booms, feeling like the beat of a drum in my chest. I lift my chin and swallow, then reach for my back pocket to take my iPhone out. I’ll have his number, but he won’t have mine. Oh, what the hell.
Stephen collects my phone in his hand after I unlock it and dials his number in the keypad. He presses the call button and I shout, “Hey!” as I try to swipe it back, but he holds it above his head, laughing.
He takes his phone out too, and my number displays on his screen. “You aren’t going to get off that easily,” he says, handing my phone back to me.
“That was a violation, you know. Now I’m really considering telling you no to burgers and shakes.” I’m saying all this, but trying not to smile. What is wrong with me? Why am I being so girly?
“Okay then. Go ahead. Tell me no.” He’s standing too close. I can smell his cologne, and a manly, personal smell that I’m sure only belongs to him. It overpowers every single one of my senses. I take a step back, hoping it will help clear my head. Now I see why other girls get swindled by Stephen Hunt…but I am not like other girls.
“I’ll decide at my own time,” I declare, and then turn and walk away, much faster this time so he can’t catch my arm and reel me back again.
When I go around the corner that leads to the exit and am completely out of Stephen’s view, I look down at the screen of my phone, focusing on the number on my call log that he just dialed.