Two

On Monday, everyone I knew wanted to know what happened. Apparently, over the weekend stories about me had developed from me killing a secret drug lord boyfriend to an assassination attempt by some mafia conspiracy. I set them straight when I heard of those wild tales. No, I didn't kill anyone. Yes, my neck was cut. No, my throat wasn't cut—I'm breathing, you see? No, I can't open the bandage for you. Yes, I can kick your ass if you try to grab mine.

By noon, I was exhausted and there was nothing else I wanted more than going back to the dorm and took a thirty-minute nap. Alas, I had an elective to attend. Everyone knew attendance made the grades in elective classes. I couldn't ditch it, but maybe I could sleep through it.

I went to sit on the back row, because that was the best spot to sleep without notice. The professor, a stoic woman with huge glasses rambled about fossil digs and dinosaurs and dragons. As far as it went, that wasn't a bad bedtime story. Within minutes, I felt myself dozing off into deep sleep.

I dreamt about a girl. At first, I thought, oh, this is going to be one of those dreams again. Indie tried to kiss me once when we were drunk, and we made a good show for the guys. Since then I'd been plagued with dreams about watching my former roommate kiss Indie, but not in the sexy way. It was more like a slobbery thing, where no one is really sure where to put their hands and their tongues, and the noses kept ending up squished against the cheeks. It was just one of those weird dreams that made me even more sure that I was a hundred percent straight, because I couldn't ever imagine kissing another girl again.

But it wasn't that dream, this time. There was no slobbery kissing involved. In fact, the girl was all alone. It took me a long moment to realize that the girl was me.

And then she said, "You're drooling."

What?

She repeated her words, but in a deeper voice that clearly wasn't mine. "You are drooling."

I woke up, straightening up so fast that I hit the back of my head against the table behind me. Disorientation faded quickly as I stared into the face of a very pissed off teaching assistant sitting right next to me. "Wipe your drool," he said.

I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand, flushing bright red. After cleaning my hand with my jeans, I ran my fingers in my hair to make sure everything was in place. Getting caught sleeping in the class was one thing. Getting caught sleeping in the class by the TA was another thing.

Getting caught sleeping and drooling in the class by Reed Archer was a whole different thing.

One of the reasons so many people—especially girls—took this class was because they knew he was the TA. As the legends went, one of the hottest guys alive on earth went to college with us and he was tall, smart, sexy, and unattainable as hell, and his name was Reed Archer. When I was a freshman, like every other heterosexual girl, I did everything to get into his sights and be that-one-girl-who-tamed-the-bad-boy. Some girls didn't even bother with that and was pleased enough to be the-girl-who-was-lucky-enough-to-warm-the-bed-for-a-night. But it was a big university and we weren't the same majors, and even if our circles had overlapped a couple of times, we were never actually thrown into the same conversation.

By sophomore year, it was clear that Reed Archer wasn't interested in dating at all. I didn't do flings, so I gave up and moved on.

By junior year, he was but a legend.

And then I took this class. Not because of him, but because I had to take an elective and everyone said this was a pretty easy A.

And now I finally had my first 'conversation' with him, and it was about me drooling in the class. My sexiness must have wrestled his heart and made him forever mine. Right.

Still, I couldn't help but savor all the details. Up close, it was clear that none of the rumors about his looks were exaggerated. His lips were sensuous in a way that made money for many male models. The planes of his face were overtly masculine, defying the lushness of his long lashes. The eyes were almost violet. I wasn't sure if they were contacts. And his hair—dark cut short and naturally spiky without being styled. Many girls had had tales about how that hair felt against their thighs when he—

"Sorry," I muttered, inching away from him.

"What's that?"

Startled, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes to confirm that yes, he was actually speaking to me. He was. His gaze was trained on my neck, still bandaged. "Oh," I said, realizing that not everyone had heard about the story, after all. I overestimated my popularity sometimes. "A cut. Accident."

The look he gave me was unreadable. "If you're not feeling well, you can make an arrangement with Professor Kinley. A simple medical note—"

"It's fine," I said quickly. I must have looked worse than I thought. It was just a shallow cut. The bruises on my body hurt more. I'd been surprised when I saw them yesterday morning. Brad's manhandling must have been rougher than I remembered.

I couldn't get out of there fast enough when the class finished. I met up with Indie and the others at lunch. AJ was there. Like every other day since that night, he didn't look at me. "Did you—" Indie began, and I knew she was going to talk about what happened at the dorm Saturday night again even though we already went over it many, many times.

So I cut her off and said, "Guess who was in Archeology 101?"

Mel, one of Reed Archer's true everlasting fans, gasped and leaned forward. "He actually came today?"

"Yeah," I boasted. "He sat right next to me."

"But he's a graduate student now," Indie said.

"That's why he only comes in when the professor wants him to," Mel explained. "Everyone took the class anyway because there was a chance he would be there. I couldn't register because of the quota."

"Wait, who are you talking about?" Josh asked, confused at the girls' sudden enthusiasm.

"Reed Archer."

"I swear, no guy deserves that kind of worship," Kyle told Josh, taking a huge bite out of his burger. Kyle was one of those permanently grouchy guys who was viewed the world through dark gray lenses. His appetite was similar to mine, though, so in some ways we could connect.

"You're just jealous," Mel snapped.

"Hey," Josh said, throwing his hands up. "It's cool. We get it. Archer equals god equals untouchable. Fine. You rave on. I don't wanna get into that."

Huffing, Mel turned back to me and asked for more details. I told her about the violet eyes, but didn't gloss over the conversation and definitely omitted the drooling part. "So he saw my neck and kind of freaked out—"

"About that," Kyle cut in. "I didn't know your brother is a cop, Cam."

How had that news leaked, too? "Um, yeah."

"So if, like, we get into trouble, he can bail us out?"

"He's homicide. If someone kills you he can go after the guy."

"So if we get a ticket—"

"Eat your burger, Kyle," AJ said, cutting him off. He still didn't look at me, but I knew he could tell that I was getting uncomfortable with the subject.

After lunch, I went back to the dorm and napped the rest of the day away. I woke up in the evening and scheduled a meeting with my professor to talk about my thesis tomorrow. I was hungry again, but ordering pizza seemed like a déjà vu. Making a decision, I grabbed my jeans and my keys and went for a drive to a diner a couple blocks away. I'd eaten there a couple of times with my friends but rarely alone. It was affordable enough for college kids that it was always flooded with people I knew. Some time ago I had considered taking up a part time job there for extra allowance but I knew the circles I hung out with wouldn't think it was cool.

Yes, most of them were well-off snobs who lived in big apartments and new shiny cars. I was middle-class, and they never expected me to dress or spend like them, so that had been enough for me. Now that I thought about it, I shouldn't have cared so much about what they'd think of me part-timing as a waitress.

I couldn't live off Dave forever. I'd get better job after I graduate, but for now extra allowance was looking good. I could eat better, for one thing. I could also order more romance books.

I ate my spaghetti meatballs at the corner of the restaurant while I thought about this. I didn't think I could pour drinks well, though. I always spilled my own earl grey. Maybe a job at the library—

"Mind if I join you?"

I nodded without looking up, still lost in thought. It was a casual and busy diner, and most of the times there were tables with too many empty seats, like mine.

When I met those violet eyes, though, the meatballs almost fell out of my mouth and back into my plate. Reed Archer was sitting in front of me. There was meatball sauce on my shirt and all around my mouth. My hair was unkempt and I wasn't wearing any mascara. Without it, I looked like a fifteen-year-old sometimes.

He cleared his throat, looking only vaguely uncomfortable. "All the tables are taken."

Snapping out of my daze, I fetched a wipe in my bag and cleaned my mouth and my shirt. First it was drool, now it was meatball sauce. I never ceased to strike him with my beauty, did I? After making sure I was more or less clean, I nodded. "Sure," I said, trying not to sound like there was a meatball in my throat. "It's fine."

He ordered corn soup and bread. I suddenly felt self-conscious with my extra-jumbo serving spaghetti and the extra plate of chicken wings on the side. I chewed my meatball slowly, hoping he would finish his meal and go away soon. More than that, I hoped he wouldn't ask if anyone was eating with me, because the food portion on my side of table was for two people. A guy had asked me that on a date last year. He meant it jokingly, of course, and I was genial until he started telling me that I would get fat if I continued eating like that.

I had been eating like that for twenty years, thank you very much.

While Reed Archer waited for his food, he gestured to me and said, "Go on. I'm not grading your meal choices, if that's what you think."

Immediately, I was defensive. "What's wrong with my meal?"

He looked at me quizzically. "I'm just saying that you didn't need to be so tense. We're not in the class."

"Oh."

Silence wore on while I stabbed my meatballs, but didn't eat them.

And then something occurred to me. "Did you deduct my scores for sleeping in the class?"

He pointed at my neck. "You're excused."

I touched the bandage consciously. "It's nothing serious, you know. Just a shallow cut."

He nodded.

Feeling like I had finally explained myself, I resumed eating my food. A minute later Reed's corn soup arrived. We ate in silence. I finished my spaghetti and moved on to my chicken wings, hesitated and then went on. The peppery spices were heaven in my mouth, but by my third wing, I knew I needed water. Grabbing the glass closest to me, I downed the whole content and set it back to the table.

Only then did I realize whose glass I had just drunk from. "I'm sorry," I said hastily. "I'll order another glass—"

"I'll just drink this one—"

"No, it's not sanitary! I could have diseases and—"

"Do you have diseases—"

"I don't! But—"

"It's just water, okay?" He grabbed my glass to show me, and I tried to stop him and I somehow ended up spilling the water over his unfinished soup, his bread, and his shirt.

I held my palm over my face as if that would diminish the embarrassment I felt. "Look," I said finally. "The table's on me."

He refused, I insisted, he refused again, and I insisted. I just wanted to get over the embarrassment and be over with it. In the end, he paid for his food and I paid for mine, and I apologized over and over again about his ruined soup and his shirt.

It started raining. I had to make a run across the parking lot. Reed saw me scowling at the rain and asked, "You need a ride?"

Any girl I knew in my position would have lied and said yes, just to get more time alone with him, and I would have been tempted, too, if it wasn't for the mortification I still felt when I was around him. First I drooled, and then I ate like a pig and then I dumped water on him.

I couldn't escape him fast enough. "I drive here," I said. "That's my car."

"You came from the dorm?"

"Yeah."

"I heard there was an attack—" His gaze traveled to my neck and he looked away. "You're the girl."

It was already everywhere on the news this afternoon. He must have finally read it.

"Yeah." I looked at my car and decided to run for it. At worst, I'd be drenched, but I'd decided to take a shower when I got back anyway. "See you," I mumbled, and left.

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