4
Sadie
One week later
I couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, but I could most definitely sense him.
He was here, there, everywhere…always nearby in the shadows, this big Navy SEAL protecting me at college despite the fact that there seemed to be nothing even remotely close to a threat.
But as Soren said before I started college, that’s when you need to be most careful. The calm before the storm, when the enemy lulls you to sleep before they attack.
But who would be foolish enough to do such a thing with my dad’s best friend there to protect me?
Part of me wanted to be more independent. Here I am at college, alone so to speak even though it’s not like I study far from home. But what would I do with this supposed independence? Keg stands with frat boys who I have no interest in?
I was only interested in Soren. Always had been. Always will be.
But what can I do about it without rocking the boat with my dad? And why is it that every night, after dad falls asleep on the couch with the remote control in his lap, there’s a moment that passes between his best friend and me? One that says, ‘Let’s go up to your room.’ But then wiser ideas prevail and we spend the rest of the night alone…when all we both want is to be with the other.
At least I think so. The long glances from Soren can’t mean anything else, can they? The way he demanded to be more or less my bodyguard wasn’t a coincidence…was it?
But what can I say to him right now? Nothing. Just like what I want to say to a boy from my liberal arts elective that I hear closing the distance from behind me.
“Hey Sadie,” he calls out. “Wait up.”
I want to speed up, but I don’t want him to get the wrong idea…either way. I’m new to college and want to be friendly, but not so much that he thinks I’m not already spoken for, whether or not Soren has said so or not at this point.
“Hey,” he says almost out of breath as he pulls even with me. “Who are you going to do the group project with?”
“I was thinking about doing it by myself,” I respond flatly, my feet keeping my cadence hoping he won’t want to labor to stay in step.
“Oh. You’re doing the solo route. Nobody really does that though. It’s way easier if you get in a team. You only have to do half the work that way.”
Unfortunately, I know this fallacy all too well. Back in high school people always picked me for group projects because they knew I loved to read, which to them meant I was going to do way more than my share of the project.
“Yeah, that could be the case, but I’m going to do it on my own. Should be easier to learn and reinforce the material that way.”
“You sure? That sounds like a dumb idea.”
Now this kid was starting to overstep annoying and jump right into douche territory. I look out across campus, seeing the trees almost everywhere and the leaves changing colors. I love fall and this campus in particular. It’s beautiful, and one of the reasons I told my dad I wanted to stay local, selectively omitting the fact that my sudden about-face in decision-making was one hundred percent due to Soren announcing his retirement.
Dad didn’t seem to connect the dots, which was fine by me.
Now Soren is here, somewhere out there behind one of those trees…watching me. Watching this all go down. I know he’s trying to be professional, to keep his distance, and let me live my life but the truth is my life revolves around him. I have pictures of him at home that I bluetoothed from my dad’s phone when he was sleeping. Pictures of him shirtless, just in the pants part of his fatigues over in Afghanistan. The weather is clearly hot but he’s hotter. His ripped physique. Muscles that just seem to stack one upon another. He looks like he crawled right off the cover ofMen’s Health, and into my dreams.
Every night.
I keep walking, wondering where he is and when this kid’s going to get a hint. I realize I’m not being very nice and I try to settle down.
“It might be a…dumb idea…but I’m running with it.”
“Well…what about dinner?” he throws out of nowhere, completely shooting his shot.
As if on cue, Soren comes shooting out from behind some big shrubs, dressed in black cargo pants, a snug black t-shirt, and boots that look like they could just as easily be used to climb a mountain as they could kick somebody’s face in. Somebody who’s bothering me.
Soren marches right up to the boy, quickly closing the distance between us as the boy drops his bookbag and freezes in place, his body in shock from the hurricane approaching him.
Stopping just short of him, Soren extends his arm in the other direction pointing. “Time you went back to where you came from, find another woman to talk to. This one’s not available,” he growls.