Chapter 2 #2
He’d taken me on a tour through the family’s sprawling backyard and the mysterious woods that surrounded their property, showing me the log bridge that spanned a small creek and the fort he and his friends had built from giant swaths of tree bark, teaching me how to catch frogs.
I can’t say I’m not curious to see how he turned out.
Is he the reason half the bar is turning to stare, or is a whole pack of football superstars about to grace us with their presence? I glance at Avery, wondering if the starstruck look on her face is for Cash. If so, she’s set a high bar.
“Your brother’s here,” Leann tells Maisy when she returns.
“My brother practically lives here,” she says, handing out drinks. “Let’s go dance. Georgia? Can we convince you to join us for a song?”
“In a few minutes,” I promise. While the girls hit the dance floor, my eyes wander. Where did the football gods disappear to? I don’t see any Shafer jerseys, but maybe athletes don’t do that anywhere outside of teen movies. My last college had no athletic talent to speak of, so I can’t be sure.
When I glance back at Maisy, something’s happened. Her arm is draped around Leann, whose eyes brim with tears. Avery stands on her other side, looking concerned, while Ximena shoots an icy glare at someone across the dance floor. Maisy catches my eye and hurries over.
“Sorry, just some ex-boyfriend drama. We’re gonna take Leann out to the back patio for some fresh air. Come with us?”
I shake my head. “You guys go ahead, I don’t want to make it awkward. I’ll be right here.”
She nods and hurries back to her group, escorting them toward a rear exit.
As promised, I get a few curious looks from guys and girls walking by.
Shafer’s a big school, but Maisy assured me a new face wouldn’t go unnoticed at the Phantom, where the same crew hangs out night after night.
Their curiosity is tolerable as long as they don’t talk to me, so I make sure not to hold eye contact with anyone too long.
Until I spot someone I can’t look away from.
At first I think it’s only his striking looks that trap me in his gaze: jaw like cut glass, halo of curly hair, and something indescribable in his beautiful eyes as he stares back at me. Something that suggests he’s as caught up in me as I am in him.
But then he moves toward me, his muscled frame—or maybe his status?—effortlessly parting the thick crowd, and recognition lights up inside my brain.
This is Cash. Has to be. I couldn’t have described a single thing about his eyes from memory, but seeing them now—feeling the way they lock with mine—sends familiarity coursing through me.
He must recognize me, his mouth fixed in a slight smile.
Eyes follow him as he carves a path toward me, some curious, some starstruck, but his gaze never wavers from mine.
Light catches on the sizable studs he wears in each ear, adding to his dazzle. Normally I dread being approached by men, yet all I want is for him to close the distance between us.
“January seventh,” he says when he reaches me, his voice deep and reverberant, cutting clear through the pulsing music.
“Excuse me?”
“January seventh.”
“Um…yes, it is.”
“Sorry, I just realized this is a date I’m gonna want to remember. I finally found you.”
“Oh.” I laugh uncertainly.
“How’s your night going?”
A strange mix of embarrassment and delight takes hold of me at the way he stares at me like he’s discovered something unexpected and precious.
“Pretty good. Yours?”
“As of three seconds ago? Amazing.”
I smile. So he remembers me as fondly as I remember him.
“You look good,” I say, taking him in. Little Cash has grown up big and strong, with at least half a foot on my height and a build that’s twice as impressive up close as it was across the room.
The youthfulness of his boyhood remains, but it’s balanced by the confidence of a grown man. “I hear you’re a celebrity on campus.”
He cocks his head in surprise before his features lighten. “You’re very direct. I like it.”
A little ache of pleasure blooms inside me—probably why I choose to do nothing about the nagging feeling that something between us has been lost in translation.
“Just stating the obvious.” A quick look around reveals curious stares directed our way, and more than a few admiring female gazes linger on Cash’s face.
But his piercing, thick-lashed eyes never stray from me.
“Yeah?” His hand goes to the wall behind me, and even though he leans only an inch closer, it brings a distinct rush of heat. “I’d ask what you’re talking about, but I don’t think I care so long as you’re talking to me.”
“Well, I don’t know anyone else here, so that’s easy.”
He rubs his thumb over his lip, and I home in on the impressive size of his hand. From under the sleeve of his black shirt peeks an intricately patterned tattoo stretching over his wrist. “You’re new here, right? I’ve never seen you before.”
That makes me hesitate. Does he not know me after all? “I—I’m Georgia,” I say, searching his face for a flash of recognition that never appears.
“Cash,” he says. “Pleasure to meet you.”
And for some reason—maybe because I don’t want to change a single thing about the way he’s looking at me—I go with it. “You too.”
“Pretty bold of you to start at Shafer in the dead of winter. Come January, most students start fantasizing about transferring anywhere that lets us escape the Midwest.”
“I’m stronger than I look.”
“You look pretty strong to me.” The way his eyes flare tells me he’s about to check out my body, but no. He keeps his focus on my face. “So what classes are you taking?”
“Let’s see. Data Analytics.”
“Seriously? I’m in that one.”
“Maybe I’ll see you there.”
“Guaranteed. What else?”
“Statistical Computing. Advanced Regression.”
“Advanced Regression? No way. I’m in that too.”
I hesitate, cocking my head. “Really?”
“Really.” He rolls his lips inward, trying to stifle a smirk.
“Are you a stat major too?”
“Nope, just have all the same classes as you.”
A playful flicker shines in his eye, but since he seems like the kind of guy who’s had that flicker since birth, I let it go. “What a coincidence.”
“Fate is screaming at us. What other classes?”
“Well, I chose Self-Defense for Women as my elective.”
He puts his hands up. “All right, it’s official. You’re stalking me, Georgia.”
“You’re in Self-Defense for Women? The class that’s only open to women?”
“Yup,” he blurts out. “I’m the, uh…the punching bag.”
I laugh, a curious lightness bubbling up within me, making his face split into a proud grin. “Then I look forward to seeing more of you.”
He steps one inch closer like he’s about to share a secret, and my senses spin as his clean scent hits me.
I recognize it instantly. That was his sweatshirt under my bed.
He’s been in my room, maybe even set it up.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just imply you want to punch me,” he says, his low voice seeping into me.
Just standing near him makes me feel completely safe.
Silence settles between us, but it’s warm and inviting and charged with a hundred unspoken words.
My shyness has abandoned me, and I peer up into his wide-set eyes, whose color I can’t make out under the red bulbs but which I know, as memory floods me, is a distinct pale green.
The moment swells like a bubble, sure to burst, yet in those few seconds I struggle to comprehend what I’m feeling—hope, connection, being seen and, for once in my life, liking it—I’m certain he could name it if I asked.
“Cash!” Maisy’s voice cuts through the air, piercing the warm bubble wrapped around us.
He whips his head around, making the fine gold chain peeking out from under his shirt shift against his collarbone.
I shouldn’t be thinking about following that chain beneath his neckline and down his chest. Nor should I be noticing the curved line of a tattoo that rests under the metal and wishing I could see the rest of it. This is my only friend’s twin brother.
Maisy gives him a wide-eyed, what the fuck are you doing look, hands on her hips.
Cash turns back to me, looking apologetic.
“Leaving already?” I ask.
“No, I just gotta go sketch out my new tattoo.”
“New tattoo?”
“The one with our names and a big fat heart around it.” One corner of his mouth lifts. “I’ll be back. Don’t move, sweet Georgia.”
I try not to be embarrassed by how this makes me giggle and flush with warm delight.
As soon as he steps away, I want him back—it hits with the intensity of a craving.
All I wanted tonight was to soak in the scene, watch from the sidelines and get a sense of what my new school is like, and hope I wouldn’t have to deal with any drunk guys. Now all I want is to talk to him again.
But with Cash gone, Avery takes his place, glaring at me before she blinks it away. Drink in hand, she settles next to me against the wall.
“Just so you know.” She leans close to be sure I don’t miss her words. “Cash flirts with everyone like that.”
She’s trying to look nonchalant while she scans the dance floor, but her smugness is palpable. The sting of her words is so sharp, I’m speaking before I can think better of it. “Interesting. I didn’t see him say a word to you all night.”
I push away from the wall and head for the bar, not allowing myself another glance at Cash.
Disappointment swirls inside me, leaving my stomach sour and killing the feeling of weightlessness he imparted.
It’s obvious Avery is into Cash and is being a bitter bitch, but she’s also probably right.
A guy like him has had hundreds of opportunities to perfect his flirting, and I’m gullible if I think I’m any different.
Even if I do feel beautiful tonight. Even if I’ve been hit on by charming drunk guys dozens of times.
Even if it’s never felt anything like whatever magic Cash Hartnell just worked on me.