Page 5 of A Thin Line

Why exactly would an older man of this caliber ever be interested in someone like me anyway? I was being foolish even entertaining it for a moment.

And yet I could sense his focus on me, making me feel like I was the only girl in the universe.

I told him the truth. “I’m getting an Associate of General Studies degree.”

“What’s that exactly?”

Feeling almost shy from the attention, I shrugged, barely looking at him as we continued walking. “It’s what it sounds like—all general coursework. At the end, I can transfer all the credits to any four-year university in Colorado and major in anything I choose.”

“So what are you interested in?”

“I don’t really know.”

His devilish, knowing smile nearly gave me shivers. “That can’t be true. There has to be something. When you were a child, didn’t you dream about doing something when you grew up?”

Oh, my dreams. They were nothing I’d share with most people, especially not with a complete stranger. I dreamed of little more than escaping this place. If there was anything more to it, it was that I would have my revenge, knowing my enemies would see me doing just fine away from their little section of hell. I knew of girls who dreamed of being actresses or policymakers, teachers or even fairytale bunk like princesses, but my aspiration was far simpler.

Still, I suspected this gorgeous yet intimidating man wasn’t going to accept a blow-off answer—and I had the feeling he was good at sussing out that sort of thing. So I told him the one career I’d considered one time, thanks to a school field trip. “I always thought working as an archaeologist might be fascinating—discovering old relics, finding history’s secrets.”

“Ah. Yes, I believe that would require a good education. There are plenty of respectable schools in Colorado that can provide you with the skills you need.”

This little walk and talk had me feeling braver—and I almost didn’t notice the pain in my feet. “Where did you go to school?”

For a second, he was quiet—and then he chuckled. “Columbia.”

Not Colorado. “Where is that?”

“New York.” Almost apologetically, he added, “My family could afford it. If I hadn’t been accepted, I would have attended CU.”

“And where is that?”

He gave me an odd look. “Boulder.” After a few steps, he added, “I imagine that getting your basic credits out of the way at a commuter college would help you avoid some problems.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s the freshman twenty, for instance.” Ah, the weight gain from eating cafeteria food and being away from the structure of home life. Raising my eyebrows, I shrugged in semi agreement, but my problem had always been not eating enough. He took my expression as a prompt to continue. “And then there’s the party badge.”

“Party badge?”

“Yes—drinking yourself into oblivion. It’s not hard to find kids on a university campus willing to party for days on end. And I met kids away from home for the first time who tested their limits.” Again, my face must have shown him that getting drunk was nothing I was interested in. But he said, “I realize high school kids party too, but college kids take it to an extreme. I doubt you have that issue here.”

“Here? Do you mean Winchester in general or here at the college?”

“Why? Which do you have personal experience with? Anything you want to divulge?” He raised an eyebrow, causing my breath to catch in my throat…because it was as if he was daring me to be naughty. And I started to protest until I realized he was teasing. But then he paused, no longer walking, and I followed suit. For a split second, we simply looked at each other—and I found his gaze strong enough to take my breath away again. My lips parted lamely, as if trying to say something, but I had no words.

He, however, had plenty. “Your eyes are stunning.”

My eyes? I’d never had anyone say a thing about my eyes, other than my father. Still at a loss for words, I managed one: “What?”

“Your eyes—they’re such a dark shade of green…like emeralds. I’ve only ever known one other person with eyes like yours.”

My cheeks turned warm and I wanted to bury my head in my arm—but I was drawn to him…and his attention was genuine, not a ploy to bully me like so many boys in the past. “Who was that?”

“My mother. I’d always wished I could have eyes like hers. But, as you can see, I didn’t.”

I’d already been looking in the deep blue pools on his face, and I had an answer that kept me from feeling foolish for almost getting lost in them. “The odds were against you. I learned in science that green eyes are more rare than blue.”

“Ah…so you’re a rare beauty then.”

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