Tuesday morning I walk to campus with Daisy and Jordan.
“Where’s your first class?” Daisy asks as Jordan swings their joined hands together between them. They’ve been dating since last year and seem to get more adorable each semester.
“Diction in the Billings building.” I point to the brick building ahead of us.
“We’re going to Moreno Hall, so we can walk you.”
I nod, and the three of us continue walking down the busy sidewalk with the rest of the students heading to early morning classes.
I look past all of them, searching for Hendrick. My skin pricks with awareness and I know he’s watching me from somewhere. Daisy and Jordan chat happily, including me by asking questions occasionally, but I’m too busy scanning every dark head in front of me to find him.
My phone vibrates in my hand.
HENDRICK
Relax. I’m here. Two o’clock. Gray sweatshirt.
I smile as I look to the right. It takes a few seconds, but then there he is. He’s dressed in torn jeans and a gray Valley U sweatshirt with a white hat, carrying a black backpack and staring down at his phone. He fits in a little too well.
ME
Did you borrow Archer’s clothes?
HENDRICK
I was in college once, remember?
ME
That’s assuming I believe any of what you told me before was actually the truth.
HENDRICK
That was.
ME
You mean like a million years ago. Did they have cell phones then?
HENDRICK
Have a nice time in Diction class.
It doesn’t even surprise me he knows my schedule or that he avoided my dig. He’s only five years older, but I like teasing him any way I can. I might still be a little salty about the whole make out turned “we can’t do this anymore” situation.
“Who are you talking to?” Daisy asks.
“What?” I look up to find her and Jordan both looking at me, Daisy wearing a curious smile. We’ve stopped in front of my building, and I was grinning at my phone like an idiot. “Sorry. I was making sure Hendrick was here.”
“Is he?” She looks around for him.
“Over by the bike rack in front of the registration office building.” I tip my head in that direction.
“I don’t see him,” she says after a few moments of continuing to search for him.
I look over to where I last saw him, but he’s not there. “Well, he was there. He’s a little too good at staying out of view.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Jordan asks, dropping Daisy’s hand and then wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She leans into him so naturally, and that pang of longing for what they have hits me.
“Yes, but it’s unnerving.”
“I know you didn’t want someone looking after you, but I’m really glad he’s here.” Daisy gives me a small smile filled with sympathy and worry. She steps forward to hug me. “Text if you need anything or want to walk back home together.”
“I will,” I say as I hug her back.
Once I’m inside my class, I find a seat and pull out my phone again.
ME
Where are you now?
HENDRICK
Close.
ME
How close?
HENDRICK
Close enough to know you need to put your phone away and get ready for class.
I roll my eyes and then tap out another reply.
ME
Class hasn’t started yet. What do you do while I’m in class, anyway?
HENDRICK
Things.
God, he’s so annoying. But I’m smiling so hard.
ME
You should go get coffee, maybe a muffin. Caffeine and food might improve your mood.
HENDRICK
I’m in a fine mood.
ME
Sorry, did I say mood? I meant personality.
Between and through my classes, I text Hendrick constantly. I never see him again, but I know he’s there, and by the end of the day, I feel lighter and less stressed than I have in so long.
When I get home, I find myself wanting to text him again. I’m addicted to the thrill of his replies popping up on my screen. Even if they are grumpy and succinct. I distract myself with homework and studying. I’ve let myself get behind with everything else going on, so it’s after ten when I close my laptop.
Dahlia and Violet are working in the living room on some big project for a design class, and Daisy is at Jordan’s, so I head upstairs to my room. I stare at the bed, then swipe my pillow and blanket and lay them on the floor in front of the door.
I scroll back through my texts with Hendrick. There are so many it makes me smile.
ME
You don’t stand outside staring into my window with binoculars all night, do you?
His reply is quick.
HENDRICK
Definitely no.
ME
What are you doing now?
HENDRICK
I’m in bed.
His bed. A slideshow of images from the time I was in his bed flash through my mind. Reluctantly, I push them away and ignore the heat spreading over my skin.
ME
Because you’re old and need your sleep?
HENDRICK
Night, Jane. Call me if you need anything.
The next couple of days go by in a similar fashion. I barely see Hendrick, but we text constantly while I’m on campus. By Friday morning, I feel like myself again.
My roommates were all busy this morning, so I drove to campus. I park behind the library, grab my backpack and phone, and start for my first class.
I’m surprised when Hendrick texts me before I’ve sent my usual good morning message once I’m here.
HENDRICK
Meet me in front of the library.
He’s sitting on a bench off to the side with his backpack on the ground in front of him and his cell in his hands. He doesn’t look up as I take a seat beside him.
I glance down at his phone to see some sports news on the screen. “So that’s what you do all day?”
“Sometimes.” He locks the screen and puts it in his pocket. Today he’s wearing another sweatshirt, a faded Valley U football one with a tear along the cuff at his wrist. He looks so messy and so not like anything I’ve seen him wear when he isn’t pretending to be a college student. I cock a brow at it, and he grins. “Today I did have to borrow some of Archer’s clothes.”
His arm comes up around the bench behind me and he fingers the end of my hair where the blonde has been dyed green. It’s faded and needs a touch-up. I haven’t felt like messing with it, and kind of wish I’d just left it blond if I’m honest. One less thing linking me to my past life—the one that keeps messing with my current one.
His voice drops lower. “If I keep staring at my phone to read your texts all day, I might not see something I should.”
I feel a bit like a kid being scolded by the principal until his fingers at my hair brush higher, sweeping along my neck and then to the side of my face. His light touch catches me by surprise, and I tense remembering how good it felt to have his hands other places.
His rough fingers stroke my face once more and then he pushes something into my ear. It startles me at first until he points with his free hand to the small device in his right ear. “This way we can talk while I keep my eyes off my phone.”
Of course, I should have known his touch was all business. Regardless, I can’t help but smile. It’s such a practical thing but the idea of this intimate connection to him makes me really excited. I reach up and touch it. It’s small and fits snugly in my ear. “What if I have to pee?”
His fingers drop to my shoulder. “Press the side once to turn it on and off. If yours is off, I can’t hear you, but you can still hear me if mine is on.”
“I feel very CIA, very covert.”
He chuckles. “You’re about as discreet as a neon sign.”
Don’t I know it. I let my hand fall down onto my lap. “Now what?”
“Now, you go to class.” Hendrick stands and picks up his backpack. “Have a good day.”
I wait until he’s a few feet away and test out my new earpiece. “Can you hear me?”
“Yep,” he replies as I watch him disappear into a crowd of students.
After I press the button, I ask, “What about now?” I press it again. “And now?”
“Still here. The range is good, so you don’t need to worry about me losing you. I won’t be that far away.”
“I’m not worried,” I say honestly as I get up and walk in the direction of my first class. “This is fun. Will you sing me a song or read me a book?”
“I’m not your personal Spotify.”
“Okay, fine. Then answer some questions for me.”
I take his silence as approval.
“What’s your favorite song?”
“I don’t have one.”
“What? Everyone has a favorite song.”
“I don’t.”
I walk into my French class and take a seat. “Favorite movie?”
The guy that sits in front of me turns around. “What’s that?”
“Sorry,” I say and smile. “Just talking to myself.”
Hendrick laughs in my ear. “I don’t have a favorite movie either. Gotta go. Good luck on your French test.”
“Wait,” I whisper as my professor begins to hand out the test in the front of the room. “Favorite color?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and I assume he’s not going to. He’s such a stickler. But just as a test paper is handed back to me, his voice is back in my ear. “Green.”
“Well, I don’t feel great about how that went,” I say as I leave my French class.
“You probably did better than you think,” Hendrick says. I look for him, but of course I don’t see him anywhere.
“Je ne pense pas,” I say in a wobbly French accent then translate it for him in English. “I don’t think so.”
“Je suis désolé,” he replies in an equally terrible accent. I’m sorry.
“You know French?”
“Not really. A few phrases. I took it in high school.”
I scroll through my school email. I have two new ones. One from the professor of my next class announcing it’s canceled because he’s home sick.
“Change of plans,” I tell Hendrick. “Piano is canceled today, so I’m gonna head to University Hall for a pick-me-up. Want to join me?”
“I’ll be around,” he says.
“You could just sit with me. Not really that big of a deal.”
He goes quiet again and I click on the next email from an E. Rex Sean. I have no idea who the hell that is, but I rarely get spam in my school email.
Go back to Cali if you know what’s good for you.
I suck in a breath.
One line, no signature. I read it again and again.
Go back to Cali if you know what’s good for you.
The email was sent from a Gmail address, same as his name. E. Rex Sean. Who the hell is that and why does he want me to leave?
“Jane?” Hendrick’s voice breaks through the anxious white noise blaring in my ears. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I lock my phone and look up.
“You stopped walking.”
“Just reading some emails.” I don’t know if the shakiness in my voice is audible to him, but he doesn’t press and I don’t tell him. Not yet. I need a second to digest this. Who is E. Rex Sean? I walk into University Hall. “Did you decide to have coffee with me?”
“Already had coffee this morning.”
“So?”
“I only drink one cup a day. I try not to have a lot of caffeine or sugar.”
“Because?”
“I don’t know.”
I roll my eyes, of course he doesn’t. “Do you do anything in excess?”
“Sometimes.”
“It’s not talking,” I mutter as I step up to the counter. I turn off my earpiece as I order.
When the barista tries to hand me both drinks, I only take one. “The other one is for a friend. He’ll be swinging by to get it in just a minute. Tall, dark hair, has this angry, broody look about him. You’ll know him when you see him.”
She chews rapidly on the gum in her mouth and nods, then sets it down on the to-go counter.
I press on the earpiece. “Bought you something and left it at the pick-up counter.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I know.” I take my coffee to a table in the back. I look around for Hendrick, but as usual, I don’t see him. It’s not very busy right now, so if he’s in here, he’s doing a damn good job of hiding. On cue, the door from outside opens, and he steps through. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to how devastatingly hot he is. Even trying to hide, he draws attention.
The barista flashes him a much bigger smile than she did me as he takes the drink. He tips his head to me before heading back outside, probably to watch more sports news.
“Thank you,” he says a few seconds later.
“Did you try it yet?”
“No. Why?”
“Don’t thank me until you try it.”
It goes quiet and then he curses lightly while coughing. “What in the hell is that?”
“You’re welcome,” I sing-song.
He grunts, which makes me want to roll my eyes. I guess he probably had to keep a strict diet while he was in the NFL. I wonder if he misses it. Then I remember I can just ask.
“Do you miss playing football?”
“Not yet, but it hasn’t been that long.”
“So you practice with the team, but you don’t play in the games?” I did a little bit of research, but the sports lingo went right over my head. Also, it’s possible I was too distracted by the photos that came up of him in his uniform. Hendrick Holland in football pants . . . wow.
“The practice squad is where they move guys off the active roster to keep developing them or serve as backup in case someone gets hurt, or in my case, it’s a place to let washed-up players teach the rookies a thing or two. The schedule is the same as the guys on the active roster, except we don’t travel with the team.”
“And you’ll do the same thing next season?”
There’s a pause before he answers. “I don’t know yet. My contract ended in December after their regular season was over. My agent thinks they’ll offer me a new contract for the practice squad, but I don’t know.”
“I’m surprised more people don’t recognize you. Your disguises are a little too good.”
He chuckles. “It’s not Archer’s clothes. I didn’t play enough for that type of attention.”
“You should. Your face deserves all the attention.”
“I went pro too early. I should have stayed and developed more in college. Maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is,” he says. “I don’t know why I said that. I hate that phrase.”
“Me too.” I laugh lightly. I want to ask him more, but a shadow falls over the table and I look up to see Paris beaming down at me with her beautiful smile.
“Oh no,” I mutter so softly I’m surprised when he asks, “What’s wrong?”
The seriousness in his tone has me certain he’s about to bust in here ready for fight mode.
I’d kind of like to see that, but I turn my head and cover my mouth as I say, “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Then I glance back at the Panhellenic Council president. “Hey, Paris.”
Her teeth are so white and perfect she could do toothpaste commercials. “I just happened to see you on my way out and wanted to pop over and say hello.”
I wave. “Hello.”
“Have you given any more thought to performing at the Spring Fling?” Her eyes sparkle and plead. She’s gorgeous even when she’s being annoying, which is even more annoying.
“No, actually I haven’t.”
She looks crestfallen but doesn’t let it deter her. “I ran into one of the guys in your band and he said they’ve been working on some new material.”
“You talked to Eric?”
“No. The one with the long hair and septum piercing.”
“Ted,” I say. “And I’m not part of their band. I just fill in sometimes for their singer.”
“Mackenzie, I know. She’s great.”
“You know the band?”
“Duh. I’m not an idiot. I did my research. They’re good.”
“So, why not let them do the show without me?”
“You know why.”
I groan inwardly.
“They won’t get the same draw unless you perform with them. It doesn’t even have to be every song. You could pop in for one or five.” She looks so hopeful.
“I’m sorry. My answer is still no.” I wrap both hands around my coffee cup. “But you should ask them. You’re right, they’re really, really good.”
“All right.” She sighs. “I guess I don’t have any other choice. If I don’t get something finalized, the committee is going to have a meltdown.”
“It’ll be great,” I reassure her, trying to ignore the weird disappointment I feel settling in at passing up the opportunity. I just can’t. Not yet. And this will be great for Eric and the rest of the group.
After she’s gone, I drop my head and stare down at my chipped white nail polish. I’d almost forgotten about Hendrick when I remember the earpiece. “Sorry. I forgot to press the button.”
“It’s fine,” he says in that smooth, even tone.
“Feel like a walk?”
“Sure. Where are we going?”
I stand and grab my things. “My favorite place on campus.”
