Chapter 8
“Over there.Let’s get those two tables against the walls.” Addy starts to head over to two of the studio desks that are in the corner of the room.
I look around the giant space; skylights scattered throughout the ceiling to provide natural light, giving the grey cement walls a brighter look. Florescent lights hang over the desks, and the old wooden tables have decades of wear and tear to them.
The studio is huge. And it looks like it holds a couple different years in one large open space. But those other areas remain empty when ours fills up with students for this studio session.
I saunter up to the table in the corner and throw my bag on top. Addy grabs the desk in front of me, plopping down and letting out an excited squeal. Sifting through my bag, I take out my laptop as I hear a plunk of another bag on the desk to my left.
I look over and fight the urge to gawk with my mouth open. He is fucking gorgeous.
His dark brown hair is swept back, his sides shaved clean. Skin that’s bronze and sunkissed. Both his arms are covered in tattoos, his tight white shirt hugging him in all the right places.
With the muscles popping out of him, how the fuck is that shirt not busting at the seams?
Oh, and let’s mention his cargo shorts and how they fit so very nicely around his ass. What a fine fucking ass it is, too.
So, basically, he’s molded from perfection. And I get to sit next to him in studio for the rest of the semester.
Fucking. Super.
His head turns to me, his lips tipping up as he grins. He stands up and walks toward me, and suddenly I’m forcing myself to look away from him.
He clears his throat. “Hi, there. My name is Damien.”
I look up at his hand extended out toward me. Slowly I reach up and place my very small hand into his giant one. I can feel the calluses on his hand, the roughness, the warmth.
He must play a sport or work with his hands a lot.
I’m sure I’ve got something he can work with those hands.
Oh my God, I’m a hussy.
“Uh, hi. I’m Aurora, uh, but call me R-Rory,” I stammer.
He beams. “Hi, Rory. I guess we’re neighbors for this coming semester.” He places his hands on my desk, and I swear my heart rate is picking up. And when he smiles, holy hell, I’m a goner.
“I-I guess we are. Are you from around here?” He shakes his head. “No. Transferred.”
My eyes widen further. “Oh? Where from?”
“Chicago. Was at Northwestern out there. How about you?” he asks.
“I’m not from here,” I say sheepishly.
“Yeah, I can tell.” He laughs. “So West Coast then?”
“Uh, yeah. Las Vegas. How did you know?” I make a face.
“It’s like a sixth sense.” He smiles. “Also, you have a bit of a valley girl accent to you.”
“I do not!” I bring my hand to my chest.
“No, you don’t. I was just teasing you. You’re cute when you get all flustered.” He chuckles as he turns and heads back to his desk, putting his headphones on and staring down at his phone.
I watch for a moment as he types away on it. My eyes refuse to peel away from him. That is until I hear a throat clear in front of me.
I turn toward Addy, and she is lit up like a Christmas tree. “What?” I whisper.
“He’s cute!” she says back excitedly, too low for him to hear, even with the headphones.
“Yeah, anyone in the vicinity of him can see that. So?” I murmur back with a flush.
“He likes you.” She grins.
I shake my head. “What? No. What are you even talking about?”
“It’s obvious.”
“Addy,” I groan. “No. He was coming over to be nice. Don’t be silly.”
She shrugs knowingly. “I know these things. Just, when I’m right, you’re going to owe me a night out at the bar.”
“Fine.” I purse my lips. “It’s on.”
“Good morning, everyone. I’m Professor Christie Pulter.” A plump older woman walks in and sits down near the door where we came in from.
Her voice echoes throughout the whole room.
“Welcome to your junior year studio, Architectural Design. Over the course of the semester, we will be diving into the relationships between various programmatic models, normative building types, and even exploring some technological themes with different contexts.”
Professor Pulter turns to the desk at the front and pulls out a stack of papers.
“This is your semester syllabus. Make sure you stay aware of the dates of when the projects are due and when the jury presentations are. These projects are your grade. There is no extra credit, there is no making it up.
“If you do not complete a project, it’s an instant fail. Did I mention part of this class is time management? Well, I guess I just did.” She raises a taunting brow.
I take the syllabus and skim through it. Our first project is due a month from now. We need to design a studio that connects to our neighbor’s and uses an element from their studio that flows through into their own from ours.
“Your first project will allow you to get to know your classmates. I want this project to be about you, but I also want you to incorporate one person to the right of your studio and one to the left of your studio. When we line these up, these will be an interconnected project. Get creative with the connections. Get to know your neighbors.
“I expect models. Oh, and instead of a presentation board, you will present your project on a twelve-by-twelve cube. Floor plans should line up. Elevations as well.” Professor Pulter smiles. “Well, let’s get to work!”
Quickly, those around us start to buzz with excitement with our first project. I pull up my computer and open my AutoCAD program. Reaching into my bag, I also pull out my sketchpad.
“So, can I be your neighbor?” I look up and see Damien hovering over me. Marine notes with cedarwood attack my sense of smell as he grins down at me.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks.
“I better be your other neighbor, woman.” I look over at Addy who is smiling like a fucking idiot over the fact that Damien came over to ask me.
It’s all over her face that she’s winning the bet.
Damnit.
“You are. Relax.” I grab my marker and my sketchpad. “Now if you both excuse me, I have some concepts to work up.”
“Can I have your phone, please?” Damien holds out his hand patiently.
“For?” I furrow my brows.
He chuckles. “So we can coordinate. I promise I won’t leave your number on a bathroom stall for those looking for a good time.”
“Well, that actually never crossed my mind until now.” I frown.
“I swear, I will guard it. Just so we can get together and work on this if we need to outside of class. Scout’s honor.” He holds up his three fingers with amusement.
Handing him my phone, I watch him place his number in it. I glance toward Addy, who is practically jumping out of her seat.
“Okay, my number is in there and now I have yours. Thank you, Rory.” Damien hands me back my phone and knocks on my table before heading back over to his desk to talk to someone else who will be his other neighbor.
I really need to stop just giving out my number like it’s fucking candy.
“So, what bar are you thinking we should hit up on Saturday?” My head whips over to Addy as I narrow my eyes at her.
I shake my head at her, but my lips turn up. “Dealer’s choice.”
For the rest of class, we all start working on concepts for our own personal studio. While the project itself is easy, having to make sure it flows with our neighbors will be a challenge.
Having to work with the likes of the sex god Damien will make it even more challenging.
When class finally ends, I start packing up my stuff, making a mental note of what I will need to bring down into studio to keep down here.
I also need to run into the Architecture School’s office and pick up a key to be able to access the building after hours.
“Hey, I’m going to head to the gym. Wanna join?” Addy asks me.
I bust out laughing. “Me? No. I don’t ‘gym’. I would die of exhaustion just looking at the building.”
She snorts. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. I promise. Plus, then we can go shopping for shorts after.”
I bite my lip. The last thing I want to do is pass out from exertion. “Maybe next time. I really just want to get back to the dorm, take a long ass shower to get this sweat off me, and go over the stuff from today. How about we go get dinner after you get back?”
“Okay. That sounds good. I am going to run to the room and change. I will see you in a couple hours.” Addy waves as she sprints out of the room.
As I finish shutting down my laptop and placing my stuff back in my bag, I feel a presence next to me. The aroma of cedarwood gives him away. “Hi.” I look up at Damien.
“So, any classes after this one?” He adjusts his backpack over his shoulder and shoves a hand in his pocket.
“No. I was just going to head back to my dorm.”
“Can I walk you?” He tilts his head.
“Uh, y-yeah. Sure. I guess that would be nice.” My face feels like it’s on fire at this point. Grabbing my bag, I throw it over my shoulder, and we head out of class.
“How are you liking Texas?” Damien glances over at me as we start our trek through campus.
I shrug, making a face. “It’s okay. I don’t know if I will ever get used to this humidity.”
He nods. “Ah, yeah. Vegas is that dry heat.” His lips turn up. “You will, just give it time. So, architecture major?”
“What gave it away?” I smirk.
He laughs and stops. “Sorry. You’re right. These are horrible icebreaker questions. I need to brush up on them.”
“I guess I could ask the same. Architecture major?”
“Touché. Yeah. Kinda always loved architecture. Since I was a little troublemaker.”
I laugh. “So you were building masterpieces with Lincoln Logs and Legos?”
“You know it. How about you?” he asks.
I frown as I break eye contact with Damien. “Well, my dad and I used to go look at new builds and buildings around the city. He would take me to new homes being built and we would gather all the floor plans so I could use them as inspiration. I would draw floor plans everywhere I could.”
His face falls slightly. “Was? Is he not anymore?”
“He’s dead. So, no. Not anymore.” I feel the emotion starting to ball up in my throat.
Damien’s mouth forms an “o” and I see him instantly regret his line of questioning. “I’m so sorry, Rory. I-I didn’t mean …”
“No, no. It’s okay. You had no way of knowing. It happened quite a while ago. Almost ten years ago.” My voice is hoarse with emotion.
“Well, I don’t think time really matters. He’s your father,” he says softly.
We walk silently until we come to my dorm. “Are you staying on campus?” I ask him.
“I am not. I actually live off campus. I work full-time while I try to get my degree.” He slips his hands into his pockets.
I raise a curious brow. “Really? That has to be hard. What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a mechanic.” I still at his words. He looks at me puzzled for a moment. “You okay, Rory?”
“M-My dad was a mechanic. Sorry,” I quickly add.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” He frowns. “So, your dad worked on cars?”
I nod. “Yeah. He loved them. Tried teaching me what he could, but some things stuck, some things didn’t.”
“What do you mean?” He tilts his head to the side.
“I can change the oil on a car, but I couldn’t tell you anything about the car I’m working on.” I laugh.
He lets out a chuckle, and we walk silently for a moment until I break it.
“So you love cars?” I tilt my head. I can see the red in his cheeks.
“Uh, yeah. I do. My family owns a few shops in Chicago. I’m sorta branching out from the family business by going into architecture.” He shrugs.
“What a rebel,” I smirk.
“I like to live on the wild side. Hey, uh, speaking of wild side. Would you like to go out with me Friday? There are some parties on Greek Row, or we could hit the bar.”
He rubs the back of his neck nervously.
My heart feels like it’s going to bust through my rib cage. I can’t believe he’s really asking me out. He is this hot-as-fuck guy and I’m just … me.
He stammers “I mean, sorry. That was stupid for me to ask. You just met me?—”
“I’d really like to,” I cut him off with a beaming grin.
His face breaks out in a smile. “Yeah? Awesome. Then I’ll text you later. Have a good night, Rory,” he whispers into my ear.
He leans in and kisses my cheek, and I let out a soft gasp. Then he pulls back and gives me one of his killer smiles before sauntering off.
And just like that, I officially fucking love college.