By the time his group was about ten feet away from me, all their eyes were locked onto some part of my body or face. His two buddies checked out my boobs and the sliver of my stomach exposed by my crop top, but not Nick. His blue eyes stayed firmly focused on mine. He cocked a lopsided grin at me as we passed each other, and I hoped to God I smiled back. I could barely feel my own feet at that point, let alone my mouth.
I wanted to turn my head and enjoy the view as he walked away, but I forced myself to continue looking straight ahead. I might have been part of the Nick Fisher fan club, but that didn’t mean I had to embarrass myself because of it.
Hurrying toward the white building in the distance, I refocused my attention on getting to the right classroom. The first day of the spring semester meant that I had left extra early this morning to avoid the potential awkwardness of walking in late. Truth be told, I was notoriously great at getting lost. I was directionally challenged, to say the least.
Scanning my schedule one last time, I matched the number for where my Speech Communications class was being held with the tall three-story building in front of me. I breathed out a sigh of relief before glancing at my cell phone, and realized that I was twenty minutes early. Shrugging to myself, I located the correct door and walked into the empty classroom, then chose a seat in the last row.
I had this thing about sitting in the last row in large rooms. It was completely stupid, but I hated the idea of people staring at the back of my head, even when I knew they weren’t. The simple thought of them being behind me, looking at me, watching me, or seeing me when I couldn’t see them, it all sort of freaked me out. It made no sense, and I wasn’t sure where the illogical fear stemmed from, but I’d been this way for as long as I could remember. Just thinking about someone sitting directly behind me almost made me break out into a sweat.
Slowly, the classroom started to fill up with other students. I recognized a couple of girls from my classes last semester, but didn’t know them by name.
The door eventually flew open with a crash, and the sound of male laughter met my ears. I turned my head in time to see Nick and his two friends from earlier walk in. His head swiveled to the left and back to the right, taking stock of the classroom before his gaze locked onto mine.
“Hey, Nick! Sit over here,” a girl all but cooed at him from somewhere near the front.
“Hey, Stacy. I think I’m gonna sit in back.” He nodded toward her as he passed and then settled into the desk right next to mine. His friends plopped down in the row directly in front of us.
Of all the empty seats to choose from, he had to pick the one next to mine?
“Is anyone sitting here?” he asked, his voice so low and sultry that I had to cross my legs to stop the want from settling between them. The last thing I needed was to daydream all through class about the things I’d let Nick Fisher do to me.
I swallowed. “Apparently you are.”
He laughed and extended his arm. “I’m Nick.”
I stared at his offered hand for a moment before reaching out and placing my hand in his. His fingers wrapped around mine easily, his grip firm, yet gentle.
“Do you honestly think I don’t know who you are?” I smiled as I tried to pull my hand from his, but he only tightened his grip on me.
“It would be rude of me to assume. And how else would I get to know your name?”
Smooth.
“I’m Jess Michaelson.”
“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice low. He brought my hand to his lips and planted a kiss on top of my knuckles.
I pulled my hand away and couldn’t help but scowl. “Are you for real?”
Who kisses someone’s hand? I can’t believe I thought he was charming two seconds ago.
“Do I look imaginary? Wait, don’t answer that,” he said with a grin, holding a hand in the air to stop me.
“You do seem like sort of a nightmare, now that I think about it. Those come from your imagination, right?” I pointed at my head, my tone playful, even if my words seemed otherwise.
He leaned back into his seat and grinned. “I like you, Jess.”
I wanted to play hard to get, but I couldn’t find the strength. I shouldn’t have been so willing to feed Nick’s ego, but I couldn’t stop myself from doing it. The guy was hot, I was attracted to him, and I clearly didn’t care if he knew it.
“The feeling’s mutual, Nick,” I said, falling into his eyes.
They were so blue, they looked almost black in the lighting of our classroom, but I knew the truth—they were dark blue with a ring of lighter blue in them.
He smirked, and my cheeks warmed as I looked away.
Here’s what I knew about Nick Fisher. He was a serial dater, the type of guy who always had someone vying for his attention. He wasn’t the typical type of player who only screwed a girl once and then never spoke to her again. No, Nick actually dated girls. The “relationship,” if you could call it that, never lasted longer than a month, but still, you had to at least give the guy props for trying.
Props for trying? What the hell was I thinking? This guy turned me into a complete traitor to my gender in two seconds flat.
Nick was currently in a “single” phase, but according to my roommate, those never lasted very long. Rachel had made it her mission to know everything about the guys worth knowing on campus. She called them GIMS, which stood for Guys I Might Stalk. She had a file on her computer with detailed notes and everything.
Poor Rachel, the girl would never have a chance with Nick. Apparently he lived by a set of rules, and one of them was that he never messed around with a girl who used to date one of his fraternity brothers. Rachel had dated Trevor for six months last year, and since he was in the same frat as Nick, she was now off-limits.