Page 33 of The Re-Proposal

I saw her the moment I entered the library. She was surrounded by a group of friends, her head stuck in a textbook.

We share three classes together, but I’ve never had the courage to approach her.

I’m too busy. Too worried about mom. Too...

Or maybe I’m just afraid of rejection.

This girl isn’t like the others.

She’s beautiful but… prickly. Or… I don’t know. Distant?

Every lecture, she’s at the front of the class, beautiful face staring straight ahead, pen poised. She doesn’t talk to anyone. She doesn’t smile at anyone.

I’m used to girls throwing themselves at me, but I’m pretty sure she’d do the opposite. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know I exist.

My phone buzzes.

Work. Emails.

None of it matters.

I have a meeting with the student council but, rather than leave with my book like I know I should, I walk to the windows and sit on a bench. From this angle, I can sneak peeks at her all I want without being creepy.

Okay, without beingtoocreepy.

I’m pretty sure my obsession with this girl is bordering on light stalking.

It’s totally normal to use my student council privileges to learn her name, right? And spending a couple hours looking her up online is within the realm of acceptable behavior, I’m sure.

Clarissa Maura.

Damn. Even hernameis pretty.

Laughter explodes around her. She gets a pinched look on her face, as if she’s desperate for some peace and quiet but isn’t rude enough to get up and leave her friends behind.

She’s kind. That’s another thing I’ve noticed. She works at the school bookstore and she’s pretty much taken over the cleaning duties from her supervisor, an older woman with bad knees who can’t get around. She’s patient with her friends and even works at a soup kitchen on the weekends.

Clarissa’s hand slips into her curly hair, disappearing beneath the voluminous curls that she’s wrapped into a ponytail. Sunlight dances over her almond-brown complexion and brings my attention to her lips.

Everything about her is sensual, but that mouth…

It’s one of the most dangerous things about her. Soft. Full. Plump enough to bite. It’s usually pulled into a thoughtful frown or tense in concentration. I want to taste them. Trace them with my finger. But more than anything, I want those lips smiling my way.

You need to stop staring, Cody.

Impossible.

The only way to hide my creeper status is by leaving. Once Clarissa’s in the room, putting my attention anywhere else is like finding a money tree.

A nice thought, but never going to happen.

My phone keeps buzzing.

The student council group chat is going wild now that news of my internship is out.

I stand and tuck my book to my side.

At that moment, Clarissa looks up. My nostrils flare as she notices me looking at her, and then she freezes, cocoa-brown eyes going wide. She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. Neither do I.

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