Chapter 1 Cameron
ONE
CAMERON
It takes longer than it should to register the professor calling my name. Repeatedly is my guess, going by the unimpressed stare he levels me with once I snap back to reality.
I didn’t mean to be inattentive in class. Never do, no matter how often my mind tends to wander. It’s something I can’t help. A bad habit I was expected to grow out of by now.
This time the distraction that caught my interest was from the cute girl who sits beside me on the end of our row. Elodie Reyes.
Last semester she stole my breath the first time I saw her, and ever since then I always notice her when she’s around. I didn’t know her name until the first day of class when I lucked out with the seat next to hers.
She still barely has any idea I exist because she’s usually in her own world.
Elodie’s become impossible for me to miss.
When I spot her, my focus is immediately claimed by her thick, glossy brown curls, beautiful tanned complexion with high, rounded cheekbones, and plush lips she tends to capture with her teeth while she listens to the headphones she brings everywhere on campus.
Partway through today’s lecture she began tracing a rainbow shaped sticker on one of her notebooks stacked at the edge of the table we share.
I was drawn to the movement, following each arc she made across the color bands.
With her head bent to take notes, she paused only long enough to brush her pretty flyaway curls behind her ears.
Before I knew it, my breathing synced to the hypnotic pattern of her fingers, a calm state of relaxation settling over me. The pads of my fingers dragged over my jeans in imitation of her sticker, keeping time with her.
“Cameron,” the professor says sharply.
Clearing my throat, I sit up with an apologetic expression for zoning out. “Uh, sorry. Yes, sir?”
Someone behind me giggles. Professor Ellison frowns and gestures to the problem set projected on the whiteboard. “I asked if you know the answer to this from this week’s reading assignment, but it seems you weren’t paying attention again.”
Ah, shit.
Why did I pick this class again? I suck at math even when I’m putting all my effort in.
Trying to solve equations on the fly makes my brain shut down hard.
The only time I handle high pressure well is when I’m on the ice guarding the net.
If I could do the same thing anywhere outside of hockey, I wouldn’t struggle to keep my GPA up.
The numbers on the board bleed together and my ears fill with static from the jumble of ambient sounds.
My classmates’ whispering, the scratch of pencils on paper, and people typing notes on laptops, all making it impossible to think.
I urge my brain to work right, tuning out the echo of my dad’s condescending voice.
“Um, it’s…” I’m stalling without a plan.
People are staring. Waiting.
Frustration builds in my gut. Why am I able to read an incoming shot on the net before it plays out, yet situations like this feel impossible?
I jolt as an elbow nudges my side. Elodie lifts her brows expectantly when my gaze darts to meet hers. My mind goes blank because her warm brown eyes make it difficult to think about anything else. She sighs, mouthing look. She taps her pen on the notebook she’s shifted closer for me to see.
She has the answer and she’s giving it to me.
Relief knocks around my chest and my drumming heart rate slows, no longer pounding through my eardrums.
I quickly rattle off the number from her notebook, ducking my head once the professor accepts it and moves on with the lecture. Thank god he didn’t call me out because it’s obvious I wasn’t getting there on my own.
“Thanks,” I mutter to her.
Elodie flashes me a barely there tight smile and goes back to ignoring me. My lips twitch, lifting at the corner. Maybe she’s not as oblivious to me as I thought. I don’t get what prompted her to help me, but I’m grateful for it.
For the rest of the lecture, I do my best to keep up with everyone else and kick the nagging sense that I’m behind.
Once Professor Ellison starts winding things down, I cast a sidelong glance at Elodie. If it weren’t for sharing this class with her, I would’ve dropped it already. It’s too late for that now.
As soon as others start packing up, she does the same. She puts away her set of highlighters, carefully arranging them so they’re lined up in the elastic holders inside her fuzzy pencil case. The pastel caps shaped like bear heads never fail to make me smile.
Elodie might be the quiet type who keeps to herself, but there’s one thing I know about her—she likes cutesy things.
The adorable pens she uses and the stickers she covers her notebook, laptop, and water bottle with are only the start of it.
Her bag has a varied collection of keychains ranging from brightly colored trinkets to mini gaming console controllers to plushies she swaps out weekly.
Her headphones have handmade covers, today’s being a set of crochet strawberries that match the clip pulling her hair half up.
Whether it’s her cozy, feminine outfits or the way she accessorizes, it’s always caught my eye.
The amount of different interests she has and how passionate she seems to be for all of them are some of the things that fascinate me the most about her, making me eager to learn more each time I see her.
Except as much as I’ve wanted the chance to get to know her better, I’ve respected the undeniable don’t-talk-to-me vibe she typically puts off with a permanent frown, avoiding eye contact unless necessary, and wearing her headphones everywhere outside of class.
I wouldn’t want her thinking I’m some creep who can’t pick up on a woman’s boundaries, especially ones as loud and clear as hers have been.
But she saved my floundering ass when she didn’t have to. This could be the opportunity to finally make friends with her. At the very least, I’d like to thank her again for having my back.
When our class ends, Elodie’s quick to get up as usual. I have seconds to talk to her before she’s out of here.
“Hey,” I start.
At first, she doesn’t react. It’s a hit to my pride, but I brush it off, ready to try getting her attention again. Then she freezes with her headphones half pulled up, squinting at me.
“Were you talking to me?”
“Oh, uh—yeah.”
She blinks, a wrinkle appearing between her brows. The reaction is a first for me. I’ve never had problems talking to girls. I offer an easygoing smile, mentally coach myself to get it together before I blow it with her.
“Sorry if you’re in a rush. Do you have another class right after this?”
She shakes her head, dropping her headphones to hang around her neck. I adjust my well-worn Heston U Hockey cap to flip it around backwards, tugging on the brim.
“Cool. I wanted to say thanks again for coming to my rescue with that answer.”
“Okay,” she replies uncertainly.
“Seriously, I appreciate it.” My chin dips and I emphasize sincerely, “More than you know.”
She hesitates, eyeing me up and down with a curious and confused expression. “You’re welcome.”
It’s a start. My smile stretches and I gesture to let her go first. Elodie collects her things and I follow behind her. I’m about to ask if I can buy her a coffee or a treat from the donut cart when our professor interrupts my plans.
“Hang on, Mr. Reeves. I’d like a word before you leave class.”
I pull up short, shoulders slumping. My chance walks out the door as Elodie leaves without a backwards glance. Damn it.
Professor Ellison folds his arms, leveling me with a look I know by heart from every teacher I’ve had since I was a kid, one I first learned from my dad. Disappointment.
An uncomfortable pit forms in my stomach, echoing his disappointment in me ten times over—because I’m always the one who’s let down the most by my shortcomings.
The hope of getting through the inevitable quickly to catch up with Elodie shrivels up, and I resign myself to a conversation I’ve had so often I can probably play both sides to save him the time.