Chapter 3
Charlotte
Ethan Clarke was one of the little kings of campus thanks to his spot as running back on the university football team.
Plus, of course, the sky-blue eyes, the sharp jaw, the huge shoulders, the fully cut body, and the six-foot-plus height.
He was very good-looking, and by the way he smiled, he knew it well.
What exactly did the coach put in that team's water to get so many good-looking men, huh?
"Morning, Clarke, fall out of bed?" I ask while setting my bag down on one of the tables. The player rubs the back of his neck and gives an embarrassed smile.
"Something like that. I started Whitman's assignment over the weekend and couldn't get past the first part, so I decided to come here and get some help from you before practice madness gets worse. Can you help me?" he says, and I nod in understanding.
"Sure. Let's do it," I agree, and pull my pencil case and a notepad out of my bag before sitting at the round table next to Ethan.
Unfortunately, I noticed right away that the hottie also happened to smell really good.
I swallow the urge to lean in even closer and breathe in the scent straight from his neck, and go back to focusing on the assignment's requirements.
Between walking him through each step and giving a few examples of how to apply the descriptive statistics concepts Whitman wanted for that data set, we spend almost an hour in the lab.
I glance at the watch on my wrist while stretching in my chair, loosening up the muscles that had been in the same position too long.
"Think that's enough for you to keep going with the assignment?" I ask, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear to keep it from blocking my view of Ethan. He sighs and breaks into a wide smile as he looks back at me.
"Definitely. Now things actually make sense, you explain way better than Whitman does," he assures me, and I let a satisfied little smile slip across my lips.
"Happy to help." That's my honest answer, and Ethan nods.
For a moment, we just look at each other, and suddenly I become very aware of how close I am to him and how much his scent floods my senses.
Afraid I'll start blushing like an idiot in front of the guy, I clear my throat and break eye contact.
I jump up from the chair and start putting my stuff back in my bag, picking the conversation back up.
"Anyway, if you need help with anything else, you know where to find me. "
Ethan stands too, packing all his notes and pens into his black backpack.
"I sure do. And don't doubt it, I think I'm going to bug you a lot more than you'd expect. Math and sciences aren't my thing, and I can't let my grades slip, or the coach will rip my liver out," he confesses, and I let out a little laugh.
"Johnny always complained about that too," I say, so automatically that it makes me mad at myself. How long is it going to take before I don't even remember that loser's name? What a nightmare.
I blow the air out of my lungs hard and finish zipping up my bag.
The anger is probably radiating from my pores.
I avoid looking at the football player in front of me while I hope he doesn't decide to bring the subject up with me.
As far as I know, my ex and the running back were never more than teammates, but since I didn't even know the length of my list of cheaters, I could be wrong about that too.
Ethan clears his throat, cutting through the awkward silence, and I brace for the worst. Is he going to ask if we really broke up?
If I honestly didn't know anything about what my ex-boyfriend was up to?
Is he going to spin a whole defense of Johnny, in the name of the stupid brotherhood between men?
I run through all those possibilities and plenty of others inside my anxious little head, but Ethan surprises me by saying:
"Can I buy you a coffee to thank you for the lesson?"
I blink, a little dazed, and almost trip walking beside him toward the door.
"Oh, no. You don't have to. I was just doing my job," I manage to say when the software in my head finally unfreezes, and I steal a glance at the dark-haired guy.
"I insist," he says with confidence, and I raise my eyebrows a little. "And maybe that way I can find out more about you besides your love for the color pink and your gift for math." His sentence is followed by a sideways smile, almost like he's... flirting with me?
Wow. I really wasn't expecting that one.
I blink another series of times and can only nod my head up and down in agreement. Ethan's smile widens and leaves me even more confused.
I quickly say hi to a few professors and other assistants along the way to the outside of the building, Ethan always at my side.
My mind registers how the guy always shows the perfect amount of calm and self-confidence even in mundane gestures, like walking with his backpack on and his hands resting in the pockets of his Lexington Crown Royals jacket, or just the Royals, as the football team was called.
Me, on the other hand, I knew I always looked restless and like my mind was running a mile a minute, especially if there were a lot of people around me.
Luckily, Lexington Crown's sprawling campus, with all its grass, trees, and far-apart buildings, let thousands of students spread out without it feeling crammed and suffocating.
On my free afternoons, actually, I loved to sit on the lawn and read a book, ignoring the whole world around me. It was relaxing.
And it was probably what I'd be getting ready to do if Ethan hadn't invited me for coffee.
I consider asking if we can go to the Evergreen café, which is near the building where I have class in half an hour, but before I can, Ethan's phone rings shrilly. He curses while pulling it out of his pocket and answers quickly.
He gives me an apologetic look and steps away a little so he can talk.
I try not to snoop and open my own phone, deciding to scroll through photos and videos on social media.
A few minutes later, a big hand gently takes my wrist, and I lift my eyes to meet Ethan Clarke's blue ones.
Not without noticing how warm his touch is against my skin.
"Charlotte, I'm sorry, I'm going to have to deal with a team problem pretty urgently," he explains, his brow furrowed in reluctance, and I do my best not to look disappointed.
"Don't worry about it. Go ahead. I've got class soon anyway," I assure him with a small smile, but Ethan shakes his head and seems a tiny bit frustrated.
"Can we reschedule?"
"Sure, next time you come to the support room we can..."
"No," he interrupts me. "I don't want to wait until then.
Can you put your number in here? Then we'll set something up this week," he asks seriously while holding out his own phone to me.
He seems genuinely let down about our ruined plans.
This time, my internal system suffers one more little bug of surprise, but I recover in time to take the device from his hand and enter my number in it.
Ethan smiles again when I hand the phone back to him, and he quickly tucks it into his pocket.
"Perfect. I'll call you. See you later, Charlotte." Those are the last words the dark-haired guy directs at me before planting a quick kiss on my cheek and taking off toward the parking lot.
I can still feel his warm lips against my skin, and his scent all around me, several minutes after he walks away.
What the hell just happened here?
Walking to the last class of the day, I still haven't come up with an answer to the question, but I decided not to think too hard about it. It probably wasn't a big deal, when it came down to it. Just my neediness seeing things where there was nothing, and Ethan had only been nice.
I pick a spot at the back of the room for Applied Computing, since there wasn't much for me to pay attention to today.
Professor Neal liked to make us study on our own, so he'd assign periodic readings and exercises to do at home, and class time was supposed to be for questions.
Since I didn't have any questions about the week's topic, I was only in the room to mark my attendance.
While he explains a particularly boring point, I take the chance to check my phone and see a notification from a number I don't recognize.
Unknown: Do you have a middle name?
I don't hide a smile before saving Ethan's number and then replying.
Charlie: Hello to you too, Ethan Clarke. And yes, of course I have one. But I'll only tell you mine if you tell me your first.
Ethan: Samuel. Which is pretty unoriginal, since it's my dad's name ??
I let a little puff of air out through my nose in amusement and decide to open the messaging app on my computer, before Professor Neal catches me on my phone and scolds me.
Charlie: True, nothing original. But if your dad's name were weird, it could be a lot worse. Oh, and mine is June.
Ethan: Charlotte June. Interesting. Were you born in June?
Charlie: Ironically, no. I was born in August, but my mom thought August would be too masculine, and she's a June baby, so...
Ethan: Visionary. She honored herself, but in a subtle way.
That makes me have to cover my mouth to hide a laugh. My mom loved to brag about that little accomplishment.
The player then keeps asking random questions about me and making conversation, so I barely feel the time pass.
By the time I come to, class was over, I'd had dinner, graded Professor Whitman's tests, done an assignment for the next day, and basically... spent the whole time talking to Ethan Clarke.