Chapter 4 #2
They are. He has faint freckles over the bridge of his nose. Why is that attractive?
Bad, bad, bad, a warning voice in my mind chants. This crush was harmless in high school, but you’re in college now.
“Man, it’s good to talk to someone from home,” Dominic says with a sigh. He faces forward and folds his arms once again, slouching and settling comfortably. “There’s nowhere quite like Autumn Ridge.”
“There’s not,” I admit. Then I nod at the massive, sprawling building that contains the food court, the event rooms, and, currently, the back-to-school mixer.
The bass is still thumping, a low, pulsing noise that I could probably feel through the stone pavers beneath my feet if I focused enough.
“Although I’m not sure the Autumn Ridge High gym is capable of sound like that. ”
“So are you here for the mixer?” Dom says, and when I glance over, he’s looking at me once again, only this time his sparkling gaze is roaming over my clothes. “You know it’s in there, don’t you?”
I grimace at this. “I got bored. And hot. And the music was so loud?” Shaking my head, I go on, “Anyway, I’m waiting out here for my roommates.”
What’s he doing here? He doesn’t strike me as the type to attend campus dances.
Although really, what do I know?
“My roommate is the DJ,” he says, answering my unspoken question. “I drove him here with some of his equipment and helped him set up.”
“Already regretting it?”
“I was having a nice nap, actually.”
“You don’t say.”
“Yep. Until someone started smelling me. Sniffing around like a dog.”
I try to suppress my embarrassed smile. “Sorry I woke you. You smell good,” I admit. “Like a woodworking shop. It reminded me of home.”
“Do you go back much?” he says, looking at me curiously. The evening breeze pushes a few strands of hair over his forehead, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Not really.” I shrug. “My brother lives there still, but my mom is out here now.”
Dominic nods and crosses one ankle over his knee. “It’s a bit of a drive. Do you miss it?”
How do I answer that? “Yes and no,” I say slowly as I think about it. “It’s more…that I miss what Autumn Ridge used to be, I guess. To me—to my family. Sort of knowing that the past is gone and I can’t return to the way things were, you know?”
Silence falls between us, too long for my comfort. Part of me wants to look at him, to see what his expression is like, but the bigger part of me doesn’t want to know. I force a chuckle. “Sorry,” I say, giving in to the urge to glance at him. “That was—”
“Why do you keep apologizing?” he says with lips crooked into a tiny smile—one that’s much more natural than my own.
But the embarrassment is still rising in my chest. Because what am I doing, saying these things to Dominic Harper? Why are they falling so easily from my lips?
There’s just something…comfortable about him. He’s not scrutinizing me. I can tell he won’t think less of me for anything I say—simply because he won’t think of me at all. He’ll probably forget all about this interaction.
There’s something freeing about that, and I’m tired anyway. “I don’t keep apologizing,” I say, thinking back, my brow furrowing. “Do I?”
“You do,” Dom says, and when I glance over at him again, he’s watching me with faint amusement, his arms still crossed.
“I noticed because I’m a reformed over-apologizer myself.
” He shakes his head as a stilted laugh falls from his lips, and now a thread of bitterness enters his voice. “Maybe not even so reformed.”
Then he turns to look at the campus around us—the red brick buildings, the neatly kept courtyard, the green lawns.
“So tell me, Reese Berkeley,” he says, clearly wanting to change the subject.
He shakes off his last words almost physically, rolling his shoulders and shifting his body.
“What brought you to the university? What are you studying?”
That is a great question. “Right now I’m undeclared. Maybe some sort of science? Or engineering?” It’s a topic I’ve gone back and forth about countless times, because I don’t feel ready to decide what I want to do for the rest of my life. I’m only twenty-one.
When I was growing up, my twenties felt so adult. So grown up. But now that I’m here, I still feel clueless, like I’m fumbling around in a world that’s too big for me, tripping over my own feet.
Dominic nods, his eyes lighting with surprise. “That’s what I’m doing,” he says. “Mechanical engineering.”
I blink at him. “Really?” I tuck a few runaway strands of hair behind my ear. “How are you liking it?”
“Ah.” He gives a little laugh and runs one hand over his head, his eyes darting hesitantly to mine. “Not at all, actually.”
“What?” I say, my brows jumping. “Why? Is the program bad?”
“No,” he says. “It’s fine. It’s more of a me thing, I think. I’m not sure I’m made for classrooms and desks. I miss fixing things with my hands. Looking at the final product right in front of me. Tinkering and figuring things out.” He shrugs and sighs. “I don’t know.”
Huh. Interesting. I’m about to ask more when I hear my name being called from a distance. I turn to find the speaker and see my roommates emerging from one of the doors of the Farrell building, their elbows linked, all of them laughing.
A dangerous disappointment sinks in my chest—dangerous because I have no business being sad that I have to stop talking to Dominic. We are not on the same playing field. We are not even in the same sport. He was out of reach in high school, which means he’s undoubtedly out of reach now, too.
“My roommates,” I say, gesturing weakly to the three of them as they begin heading my direction. “They didn’t stay very long, I guess.”
“You’ve got to go, then?” Dom says.
“Yeah, I think so.”
Stop it, heart. STOP IT. You are not sad.
“Too bad,” Dominic says. He then tugs his phone from his pocket and holds it up. “Want to trade numbers?” he says with raised brows.
The way I stare at him is very unflattering.
“It’s great to talk to someone from home,” he adds with another shrug. “That’s all. Just knowing someone.”
Does that even make sense? He knows a lot of people here. He must. He’s here with his roommate, for one.
But even though a part of me is nervous, a bigger part of me wants to accept. Because he’s right; it is nice to have someone from home around. Someone who understands what life was like before coming here.
That’s the only reason, I tell myself firmly.
“Yeah, definitely,” I say. Then I pass him my phone with hands I try to hold steady. “Here. Enter your number.”
He takes the phone, sparing a brief glance for my Winnie the Pooh phone case and smiling, before typing his number in. Then he passes it back.
“Let me know if you ever want to get together,” he says. “Or if you have any questions about the engineering programs.”
I nod and stand up, slipping my feet back into my heels and trying to calm my jumping pulse. “I will,” I say, even though I know I won’t. I won’t, because when people say things like that they rarely ever mean it, and I need my hopes to stay firmly grounded. “It was great to talk to you.”
Really great. So great.