Page 26 of No One Else

“NICE ANSWER MISS MILLER,” Dr. Kaufman praises me before moving on to the next section of today’s lecture.

Evan gives me a subtle thumbs up and returns his attention to the front.

Even though we sit next to each other every class period, there’s zero opportunity to talk to one another. Dr. Kaufman doesn’t tolerate any side discussions or you’ll be dismissed for the day with a mark against you for attendance. He runs a tight ship but he’s a brilliant marketing professor. He truly knows his stuff.

Five minutes before the end of class, a drumming on the roof of the building sounds, directing our attention to the window. Rain streams in sheets down the glass, increasing in intensity until he finally calls time.

We can’t linger long because there’s another class that meets fifteen minutes after ours, some of the people waiting outside the door dripping wet when we pass them in the hall.

“Oh God,” I groan. “I’m gonna get soaked walking all the way back to the dorms.”

“I got lucky and found a spot in the lot nearby,” Evan says, settling his backpack over one shoulder. “You want a ride home?”

“That’d be great.”

At least the temperature’s gone up in the last few days, hovering around sixty degrees, but it’s still too cold for my liking as we race outside toward the parking lot, making a mad dash for his Bronco. Once we get there, I can barely make anything out, searching for the faded green SUV through the driving rain. He grabs my hand and pulls me to the left, where it’s hidden behind a monster pickup truck.

He sticks his key in the passenger door, holding it open for me as I climb inside, then rushes around to the other side and gets in quickly, throwing his backpack in the backseat. I glance over at him, his hair sticking up in spikes as he runs his hand through it, his sodden long-sleeved shirt clinging to his bulky frame like a second skin.

My eyes linger over the cut of his bicep, hard pecs, flat stomach. God, I forgot how built he actually is. He wears loose clothing normally that hides all that. That night at Empire, though, I had run my hands along his body. I had touched those planes of muscle, all that strength just under my fingertips.

A shiver runs through me, reminding me that I’m soaked myself, and I peel off my wet sweater. I pop down the visor and burst out laughing at my reflection. “Oh my God, I look like a drowned rat.”

“You look beautiful,” he says intently, his gaze traveling over my face, moving further down and getting stuck on my chest. Between the cold and his attention, my nipples perk up, painfully obvious through my damp shirt and bra.

He swallows heavily, closing his eyes as if he’s in pain and faces forward in his seat. “I mean, you look fine. Normal.” He turns the key in the ignition and fiddles with the heater settings. “Sorry I don’t have a towel or anything in here. It should get warm in a minute.”

“Okay.” I cross my arms over my chest, self-conscious now. Not ashamed, just... aware. Aware of my body around him in a way I’ve never been before.

Aware of his hand resting on the back of my headrest as he looks behind him to reverse out of the parking space, a clean, fresh scent emanating from him that has me wanting to turn and inhale. Aware of the increasing mugginess in the car as the heated air coming from the vents competes with the rain outside, like it’s some kind of tangible tension between the two of us. Aware of him out of the corner of my eye, every small movement he makes, running his fingers through his hair, his leg shifting on the pedals, his hand on the wheel as he turns into the dorm’s parking lot.

“Did you want to come up?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize it, some part of me not wanting to let go of this time together. “We could work on the project.”

“Yeah,” he nods, surprise on his face. “That sounds great.” He grabs his backpack out of the backseat and places his hand on the door handle. “You ready to make another run for it?”

The rain isn’t quite as bad as before, but still pouring steadily. “Yeah,” I grin, not bothering to put my sweater on again. I’ll get soaked anyway.

We exit simultaneously and rush toward the building entrance. I shriek as I accidentally step in a deep puddle, submerging my foot up to the ankle. “Here,” he says, placing his hands on each of my arms to pick me up and set me back on the sidewalk. My belly flutters at his closeness, but then he’s gone, ahead of me almost to the dry patch of cement underneath the front awning.

I join him and fumble in my bag to find the keycard that’ll let us in, distracted by how close he is again. Geez, calm yourself, Natalie. He’s just standing near you to stay out of the rain.

Once we’re in, we wipe our feet on the doormat and I push my bangs out of my eyes. “I should have a shirt that fits you if you want to change. I got it at a 5k, but it’s always been too big for me.”

He nods, following me upstairs.

This time of day Morgan’s in class, so we have the room to ourselves. I shut the door behind us, gazing at him as he carefully sets his wet backpack on the ground, his shirt plastered to his torso again. “I have an extra towel if you want it,” I tell him, going over to my dresser to grab it and the shirt. “Sorry I don’t have any pants that fit you,” I laugh nervously.

“I wish I’d had my gym bag in the car. I left it at home today since I don’t work.” He strips off his shirt, patting himself down with the towel, rubbing it over his dark hair, trying to blot out as much water as he can.

All I can do is stare. I’ve never seen him shirtless before. What I thought was a nice body through his wet clothes earlier is nothing compared to the sight of him now. Thick biceps. Broad, toned shoulders. Heavy, muscled pecs. A defined six-pack. A happy trail leading right down into the top of his jeans, slung low on his hips. He’s the kind of eye candy I never knew I wanted.

I catch myself before he finishes toweling himself off, searching through my drawers for dry clothes for me to change into. When I turn back around, the shirt’s on him, an easy grin on his face. “It’s a little tight, but it’ll do.” A little tight? The thing is straining at the seams. “Did you want me to step out so you can change?”

“You can, um, just face away from me.” Wait, what am I doing to myself? How is that a good idea at all?

He nods, visibly swallowing before facing toward Morgan’s side of the room.

With each layer I shed, the fluttering in my stomach from earlier grows, a sense of dangerous anticipation coursing through me knowing he could turn around at any second and catch me.

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