Chapter 17
SIX YEARS AGO || OCTOBER
Having Dominic as my Intro to Engineering TA is getting a little weird.
I’m not sure why. It’s not like we’re dating or doing anything wrong. It’s just a bit strange to see him off to the side in class, looking professional as he types on his laptop. Girls still stare at him, especially when he wears the hat, which has made its reappearance.
He hasn’t thrown it away, despite the wonky shape after I washed it, but somehow it doesn’t look bad on him. The man was made for baseball caps, and people notice. They notice him.
But he, inexplicably, only seems to notice me.
He doesn’t stare. He’s not awkward. I just find myself looking at him more than I should, and when I look at him…
Sometimes he’s looking at me, too. He gives me a little smile and then goes back to his work, and I force myself to ignore my leaping heart and pay attention to the teacher instead.
We still meet up at the library several times a week, and we text a lot too.
Since agreeing to become our official apartment handyman the other day, he’s come over to help me build a cheap nightstand for next to my bed.
I offered moral support by trying not to stare at the flex of his arms as he worked, or the curl of hair that sometimes escapes from beneath his hat.
I’ve noticed these instances make him happy. He seems to light up when I ask him to fix something or when I ask him to help me build furniture. Except on Dominic, “lighting up” really just looks like a faint lift of his brows and smiling eyes.
I don’t mind. I’ll keep asking him for help as long as I think he wants it. Because sometimes I wonder if he even wants to be here at all—at school, in classes. He seems brightest, most himself and most at ease, when he’s doing other things.
Which is partially why, one Wednesday in early October, I push aside my notebook and lean forward to get his attention.
“Psst,” I whisper, because the library is extra quiet today.
Across the table from me, Dominic continues typing on his laptop, showing no sign that he’s heard. No hat today, but his light-brown hair is faintly messy anyway, like he’s been running his fingers through it, and the sleeves of his shirt are pushed up to reveal tanned forearms.
“Dom,” I say, my voice still low.
Nothing.
My eyes narrow on him, and I nudge him with my foot under the table, my shoe against his work boot. “I know you can hear me,” I say.
He does his best to keep a straight face at this. But despite the continued click-clack of his keyboard, the corners of his mouth twitch, and a faint glimmer appears in his gaze.
Still, he resolutely ignores me.
I nudge him harder under the table this time—enough that it’s more of a kick. “Dominic,” I hiss.
He finally breaks, a huff of laughter that makes his green eyes crinkle. His fingers pause on the keyboard, and he pushes his computer to the side.
“What can I possibly do for you, darling Reese?” he says, and although the words themselves are exasperated, all I find in his expression is genuine humor and that crooked smile.
He leans in, hair falling over his forehead, a hint of his woodshop smell drifting toward me.
“Demander of attention, so impatient you can’t wait two minutes for me to finish my paragraph—how can I be of service to you? ”
“Well, now you’re just being sassy,” I say, folding my arms.
Another little laugh, and then he says, “Only one of us is sassy, and it’s not me.” His smile fades as he looks at the notebooks in front of me, but his gaze remains good-natured. “What’s up? Need help?”
I hum thoughtfully. “Not exactly. I have two things.”
He gives a brisk nod. “Two things. I’m ready.”
“First”—I lean sideways and open the insulated pocket of my backpack, pulling out the carefully wrapped triangle of sandwich I didn’t eat at lunch—“do you want this?” I keep my voice casual. “Pesto chicken.”
Dominic doesn’t really take enough time to eat.
Whether he forgets or loses track of time or is too busy doing other things, I don’t know.
What I do know is that the food court sells huge, pre-cut sandwiches perfect for sharing, and if I tried to give him a full one, he’d probably refuse.
When I make it seem like I have leftovers I don’t want to waste, he’s more likely to accept.
“You’re getting a lot of these lately,” Dom says, already reaching for the sandwich I’m offering. “Thanks.”
“They’re good,” I say. “I just usually can’t eat both halves.
” I watch with satisfaction as he unwraps the sandwich and takes a giant bite.
He digs around in his pocket with his free hand and emerges a second later with a yellow butterscotch hard candy, which he holds up with raised brows, asking if I want it.
I take it and tuck it in my bag with a smile.
“All right. The second thing,” I say. “I’m wondering.
” My pulse skips with nerves, but I force myself to take a deep breath and go on.
The words rush out of me as I babble, “Okay. It’s maybe a little weird, and you can totally say no if you want to, okay?
I won’t be offended. I actually wasn’t even going to ask, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt—”
“Just say it, Berkeley,” he cuts me off, setting his sandwich to the side. But his voice is soft, and there’s something new in his eyes as he looks at me—something warm that takes me by surprise. It’s not teasing or laughing or amusement. It’s…sweet. Sweet and gentle and fond.
What is that? That’s the way a man looks at a woman. Why is he waiting for me to speak with an expression like that on his face?
My heart thuds, thuds and stirs and swells in ways I don’t understand, and I swallow, my question suddenly gone. It’s vanished off my tongue and from my mind, just like every other thought I’ve ever had.
You have a little crush, I tell myself. That’s all. A baby crush that will go away.
“I—” I begin, but I still can’t find anything.
Autumn Ridge! That’s where I was going with this. Good. Yes.
“Do you want to come back to Autumn Ridge with me this weekend?” I blurt the words out, louder than necessary, and as soon as I’ve released them I wish I could take them back.
But that’s not an option, so I make myself go on.
“I love Autumn Ridge in the fall,” I explain.
“And”—my voice turns sheepish now—“I don’t want to make the drive by myself.
” I clear my throat. “Traveling together wouldn’t be weird, would it? ”
I’m not sure if Dominic will love this idea or hate it or think it’s stupid, so I watch him carefully, hunting for any sign of his true thoughts, because all I see right now is surprise.
And he doesn’t move; if anything, his body stills. But the warmth fades from his eyes until it’s replaced by something more difficult to decipher. An inscrutable expression that tells me nothing at all, eyes guarded as he considers me.
I can see a myriad of thoughts running through his head. I just can’t tell what any of them are.
His throat bobs as his hesitant gaze continues to dart over my face, and for one brief moment, his eyes drop to my lips. His shoulders shudder with an unsteady breath, until the room feels too warm and I can’t bear his scrutiny any longer.
“Forget it,” I say, forcing a laugh. “It was dumb. I don’t really need—”
“Weekend after next,” he cuts me off softly. He inhales again and then exhales roughly, still searching my expression, and the tension drains from his body as he nods again. “We can go then.”
I blink, hardly daring to believe him, but a slow smile spreads over my face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says, and then he holds up one finger. “If.”
My smile freezes on my face and then falls right off, shattering on the table between us. “If?”
“If,” he repeats, his eyes gleaming with unmistakable challenge. It’s not an expression I’ve seen before. “If you get an A on your engineering midterm.”
My jaw drops, and he rolls his shoulders into a shrug.
“Get an A on your midterm, and I’ll take you to Autumn Ridge.
” His eyes meet mine, and when he speaks again, his voice is low, the words deliberate and slow.
“In fact…” He squares his shoulders like he’s steeling himself, then another deep breath, one that pulls all the oxygen from the room until I can barely breathe.
“Get an A, and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Reese. ”
My mind flits to a dangerous place—an image of Dom and I watching a beautiful sunset at Make-Out Ridge, stealing kisses we’re not supposed to steal.
“Anywhere?” I say.
He gives me a slow nod. “Anywhere at all.”