Chapter 10 #2
He studies my hair, my eyes, then my mouth. His eyes are dark fire as they roam over me. Like I’m his missing puzzle piece.
Goosebumps break out across my forearms. I shift my weight, hating the fact that my nipple tighten involuntarily.
“Do you have a sister?”
“Only child.”
“Maybe a cousin on campus?”
“Nope.”
“Ah, you are a twin?”
“I feel like I’d know.”
“There’s a girl who looks like you… Insane glasses…?”
I tuck my hands into my jacket pockets.
“Half the humanities department wears glasses.”
“She has giant tortoiseshell frames.”
“Fashion-forward.”
“She’s about your height.”
“Devastating evidence.”
“And she talks like you.”
“How so?”
“Like every sentence comes with a hidden insult.”
Lila coughs to cover a laugh.
Kane leans closer.
His brow furrows.
Then he says, “You smell familiar.”
I stare at him.
“Really?”
“It wasn’t a line.”
“That makes it worse.”
He ignores that and breathes in slightly.
I take one step back.
“Are you sniffing me?”
“No.”
“You just did.”
“Your shampoo’s not quite right.”
“Coconut explosion? I use it religiously. The extra keratin saves my hair,” I deadpan.
His expression shifts.
But he has smelled me before.
In the seminar room.
At the beach.
Close enough to remember, not close enough to understand why.
“What do you study?” he asks.
“Archaeology.”
His mouth curves.
“Broken bowls?”
“Civilizations.”
“Same difference.”
“That may be the least intelligent thing anyone has said to me this week, and one of my professors spent twenty minutes comparing empires to sourdough starters.”
He laughs.
A real one.
It changes his whole face.
The arrogance loosens. His eyes warm. For a second, he looks younger than the campus mythology built around him.
I hate noticing.
“What year?” he asks.
“Freshman.”
“I knew it.”
“Based on what?”
“You still look surprised by everything.”
“I’m currently surprised that your conversation has lasted this long.”
“You’re enjoying it.”
“No.”
His gaze drops to my mouth.
I realize I’m biting the inside of my lower lip and stop.
He catches that too.
“You’re lying.”
“About what?”
“Not enjoying me.”
Behind him, a car horn sounds.
He doesn’t move.
Lila opens the driver’s door at last.
“We should go, Hannah.”
Kane’s attention snaps back to my name.
“Hannah.”
“Yes. You mastered it.”
He looks at me with the same unsettled concentration he wore when he tried to place my face.
“Are you sure you don’t have a twin?”
“Positive.”
“An alter-ego named Sandy, perhaps?”
My heartbeat jumps.
I keep my expression flat.
“Nope.”
He watches me for another second.
“Okay, well if you see her… tell her she’s been running fast in my dreams,” he winks.
The voice.
The attitude.
The scent.
I open the passenger door.
“You should find your ride.”
“You leaving already?”
“I’ve seen enough parking-lot drama for one night.”
His face tightens slightly.
“You heard that?”
“Everyone heard that.”
“Great.”
“For what it’s worth, she had a point.”
His eyes narrow.
“About what?”
“You spend a lot of time deciding what women want from you. It might save time to ask.”
“And what do you want?”
The question comes low.
Direct.
No teasing attached.
For half a second, the parking lot disappears around us.
I look up at him.
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“I want my leftover fries before Noor eats them.”
Noor lifts the container. “Too late.”
I reach for it, but she pulls it into the back seat.
Kane smiles.
“You dodged the question.”
“I answered the version that mattered.”
I climb into the car and shut the door.
He stands outside while I buckle my seat belt.
Lila starts the engine.
Before we pull away, Kane bends toward the opened window; his long arms rest on the roof of the car as he leans down close enough to kiss me, if he wanted.
“Good night, Hannah. Tell Sandy I’d like to take her out on a date if you ever see her. She can find me in the athletes quad or in class next week.”
His smile fades into something more flirtatious, he taps the roof of the car and strolls away, fists in his pocket.
But just as the engine turns over he turns back.
“Oh and Hannah? You really are a terrible liar stick to old pottery and dig sites. You still have a mark where the pencil you broke nicked the inside of your wrist in class.”
My face reddens. Before I can stammer out a response, Lila hits the gas.
We make it one block before Noor turns around in her seat.
“He figured out you’re Sandy.”
“Apparently.”
“You let him flirt with you while he described you to your face.”
“He didn’t describe me well.”
Lila grips the steering wheel, laughing.
“He is attracted to you twice.”
“His judgment is clearly impaired.”
“You should have told him,” Noor says.
“Why?”
“Because this is going to explode. By trying to hide it—you intrigued him more. Did you see the way he looked at you? Even I’m breathless and—”
“Don’t finish that sentence…” I warn.
“I was just going to say—sweaty.”
I look through the rear window.
Kane remains beneath the streetlight, watching our car disappear.
“No,” I say. “Neve going to happen. Not with him.”
Lila glances at me. “What are you waiting for are you crazy?”
I settle into the seat and rescue the last fry from the container.
“Watching Kane Haverhill become attracted to the same woman twice may be the closest I ever get to conducting a scientific experiment.”
Noor raises her cup.
“To research.”
Lila lifts one hand from the wheel.
“To repeated trials.”
I eat the fry.
“Strictly academic. He’s not for me. Too much testosterone paired with drama.”
“Girl… maybe you are cray cray…” Noor motions with her fingers by her ear circling with her index finger.
I sigh, as I sit back into the seat. “Dual personalities. That’ll scare him off.”
“I still don’t understand why you want to ‘scare’ off Kane freaking Haverhill.”
“Then I guess after a month you still don’t know me.”
Noor catches my eyes in the rearview as she turns the left blinker on. “I do. You need a nerdy bookie… maybe he’s into eighteenth century German poetry and organic gluten-free scones. Imported ones.”
“YASSS!” I scream. “Where is he?”
“Down Salem street throwing down fives at the drag bar. Girlie… your dream man is gay—whereas Haverhill…,” Lila snorts.
“Is not for me. Period. End of story. Mark it in the footnotes.”
“Me thinks, you protest too much,” she throws a fry at me.
“He’s hot okay. But Krista? Eww— I don’t want her leftovers.”
“Kane Haverhill a leftover? I’m dying. Only Hannah thinks The KANE HAVERHILL is a LEFTOVER. Honey, he’s a main meal.”
“More like Krista’s midnight snack,” I retort.
Dead silence ensues. “No. I’m not jealous. I’m not.” I repeated more to myself than for them.
“Okayyy…” Noor turns on the radio and that is that. Or so I thought.