FOUR
Mila
The first thingI see when I walk into the library is this tall, scruffy man on his way out with a loaded-down backpack that seems disproportionately small.
The width and shape of this dude remind me of Bob fromThe Incrediblesbefore he got the super suit. Too big for the world. I picture him walking between aisles at the library, both shoulders knocking books off the shelves. He’s even got the same jawline. With those angles, I could cut glass easier than I could with the diamonds I wear on my ears.
He must be new. I’m in my second year at Pine Mountain, and there’s no way I would not have noticed this big boy. Woof.
The second thing I notice is he’s staring right at me like I’m the freakin’ Mona Lisa and not even trying to be cool.
Now, I get a lot of double-takes at this school. Even though I’m settled into sorority life with Beta Beta Psi, I still don’t fit in. Not because of my size, but more about my fashion. I’m not particularly collegiate looking—I’m neither casual nor sporty nor a sweet Southern belle. Although I’ve dyed my hair blonde and changed how I do my makeup, I’ve got lots of sparkle and attitude. My resting bitch face has served me well, and I don’t plan on changing it.
So when guys do that double-take, it’s usually followed up by a quick mask of indifference, like they’re telling themselves to chill. Especially the rich kids and the frat boys. I look like a good time, but I’m not the sweet, deferential girls they want to bring home to meet their families.
It’s an excellent school, with friendly professors—in fact, everyone is so…nice. Pleasant, good manners, most people would give me their shirt off their back to help me with anything. It’s sometimes too much for me.
This thick dude in front of me is…not like the frat boys that some girls in my sorority have introduced to me.
To be fair, those girls don’t know the real me. To them, I’m a girl from somewhere vaguely in New England who wanted to go to school somewhere rural and scenic and totally new. I wasn’t sure where I would go over winter, spring, or summer break, but that’s the thing about Beta Beta Psi; everyone always has a place to go, no questions asked. I spent the summer bouncing between Meghan’s Lake Lure mansion and Leela’s family homestead in Black Mountain. When the guilt of feeling like a rich kid doing nothing reared its ugly head, Leela’s mom gave me a paid intern job filing briefs at her firm 20 hours a week. My graduation money still hasn’t run out, but it’s a relief to have a source of income.
My life here is pleasant, stable, and quiet, other than the Greek life parties. And I always have to participate in the parties. I grin and bear them, sometimes white-knuckling it, praying nobody notices I’m not drinking, and I don’t get introduced to anyone from back home who recognizes me. Kendall. The old me. That would be the end of Mila. And with Khaz gone, I’d have to leave town and figure things out entirely on my own. I’d do it if I have to. But I like it here. Something about the Blue Ridge Mountains makes me feel safe. Peaceful. On an entirely different planet.
This guy in front of me looks like the opposite of everyone I’ve been introduced to. He’s got a kind, wide-open expression in his clear, grayish eyes, set under thick, dark brows, striking against his smooth skin. Here’s a boy whose momma loves him and feeds him well. If I’d seen him before he saw me, he would make my stomach erupt with butterflies. But spotting him at the exact moment he’s spotting me? Butterflies are making me tingle everywhere, not only in my stomach.
So, of course, what do I do? I forget to scan my ID and get stuck in the turnstile.
Although it’s not the case, I know what this looks like—Winnie the Pooh got his fat ass wedged in the door.
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
Someone snickers.
The big dude approaches, a nervous smile on his face.
“Um, you have to scan your card,” he stage-whispers.
I know I have to scan my card, but those eyes distracted me so badly that I completely forgot about it. Then he walked toward me, and all brain cells vacated the premises.
I love and hate the part in romance novels where the heroine suddenly becomes stupid the second she’s up close to the hero. But with him towering over me now…now I think I get it.
To be honest, I wasn’t starting with a lot of brain cells, to begin with.
“Ah shit,” I mutter. “I forgot my card, and everyone is going to think my huge ass got stuck in the turnstile.”
“Not if I can help it,” he says, turning away. He clears his throat and announces to the room, “She’s not stuck; she forgot her card.”
“Oh my god,” I exhale with a raspy laugh. My soul is leaving my body, I think.
Big boy scans his own card like he has that ready to go.
The scanner makes a soft electronic sound, releasing the turnstile.
I come through, and he doesn’t back away.
I smile at him, blinking, waiting for him to say something.
When he says nothing, I go to a study table. The guy is there already, like The Flash, pulling out a chair for me.”