Page 6 of Bound By Water
Some of the tension eases from his shoulders, and he clears his throat. “Sorry. This is going to sound conceited, but… girls are always trying to trick me into being alone with them. I kind of thought… that you…” He stops talking and shrugs one of his broad shoulders.
It’s my turn to study him. He’s definitely uncomfortable. I get up and walk over to the door. “I’ll leave the door open, okay?”
The last thing I want him to think is that I’m chasing after him. Yes, he’s incredibly good-looking. But he’s too young and, oddly enough, out of my league. I’m an ordinary person living a pretty boring life. He’s a sports star from a wealthy and powerful family.
He chuckles. “You can close the door. I realize you’re not interested in me.”
I wave a hand. “It’s fine. It’s actually cooler in here with it open.” I turn my focus back to the work. For the next thirty minutes, I outline everything I think he’ll need to learn in the class while I work to get an understanding of his current level of knowledge.
“Honestly, I don’t think you need much help. You’ve got a good grasp of the basics, and with just a few sessions, you’ll easily understand the more advanced topics,” I inform him, flipping my wrist over to glance at the time. “Next session, we’ll jump into the axes and planes, then use the third session to dive into the various joints. For the fourth session, I’ll give you an old copy of a final, and we’ll see if there are any knowledge gaps.”
A relieved smile flashes across his face. “Thanks, that sounds great.”
“Okay. Time is up,” I say gently, wanting to get home.
With a quick swipe, he grabs his stuff. “Right. I’ll see you next week.”
Yawning, I make a few notes on the session, then pack up my things. It’s been a long day. My pajamas and comfy bed are calling my name. I swing my backpack onto my shoulders and make my way downstairs, passing giggling students along the way. Open all night, the library is a safe place for students to meet and study. I pass by a couple staring soulfully into each other’s eyes. Or flirt.
Cool night air caresses my skin, and I sigh. I’ve spent the past seven hours in the library, working and tutoring. It feels good to leave.
Rustling has me turning toward the nearby bushes. The area around them is dark. Branches sway back and forth, but I can’t see anyone. I dismiss it as the wind but freeze a second later when I hear a twig snap. My breath stalls. An animal? Peering into the dense foliage, I realize it’s too dark to see anything. Holding my breath, I wait, but there are no other noises. Goosebumps appear on my arms. All my senses are tingling, telling me someone is there. I continue to wait.
A couple of students walk out of the library and pause beside me. Taking advantage, I snatch open my purse and grab my keys. Safety in numbers. With them next to me, I hurry down the steps, then swivel toward the parking lot.
Having arrived early today, I was able to grab the parking space closest to the library, so it doesn’t take long to get to my car and jump inside. I immediately lock the door. When I look around, I don’t see anyone. Feeling foolish, I take a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart. Probably a cat or raccoon or something.
CHAPTER4
WILLA
By the end of the week, I’m practically jumping out of my skin. Ever since I walked out of the library that night, I’ve had the sensation of being watched. It’s stupid. And paranoid. But every time I try to use logic to reassure myself it’s nothing my gut kicks back. The feeling is so strong, I constantly have to stop myself from reaching up to rub the back of my neck.
“Willa!” the barista shouts from behind the counter.
With a jolt, I grab my mocha and dash out the door, even though I have plenty of time to get to the library for my shift. Head down, I hurry through the quad, making sure to stick to the crowds, feeling safer surrounded by people.
A heavy hand drops down on my right shoulder, and I let out a little scream. Hot coffee spills out of the top of the lid and slides down my hand, but I only clench the paper cup tighter as I turn to see who grabbed me.
A bright blue jersey meets my gaze, and I flick my eyes up. Trent’s smiling down at me.
He laughs. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve been calling your name since you left the coffee shop.”
I ease my grip and transfer the cup to my other hand. Shaking off the spilled coffee, I press my slightly burned hand against the back of my jeans. “Trent! Oh. Um. Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Thinking about mid-terms. What’s up?”
He pauses for a second but then flashes that signature smile. “My dad is going to be out of town on Monday. I know your Tuesdays are pretty booked, so I thought we could switch days next week.”
Surprised he remembered; I think about it for a second. “That would be wonderful, but I only work an hour on Monday. My shift ends around one p.m.”
He nods and pulls out his phone. “That works for me. I’ll grab us some lunch.”
“Umm, don’t worry about bringing lunch. I’m used to eating later,” I protest.
“Well, I try to stick to a strict eating schedule for football, so I’ll bring food, and if you want some, it will be there,” he replies with a shrug, then holds up his phone. “I would have called you about switching, but I didn’t have your number. Do you mind giving it to me?”
“555-493-7714,” I tell him.
Usually, I give my number to the students I’m tutoring when I set up the schedule. I can’t believe I forgot. My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket to see a text from Trent.
