CHAPTER TWENTY

I hated homework. Always had.

Before I had started kindergarten, my older sister, Becca, had told me my teacher would give me a homework assignment if she thought I was dumb. And sure enough, at the end of my very first day of school, my teacher, Miss Zeigler, had clasped her hands together cheerfully.

“For homework, I want all of you to go home and practice writing the letter A.”

I’d promptly stuck out my bottom lip and burst into tears, thinking I was the ultimate epitome of stupid.

Through the years, I’d slowly overcome homework apprehension and had yet to bawl over another class assignment. However, the urge to sob like my old kindergarten self bubbled to the surface the next Tuesday morning when my General Virology professor gleefully doled out eight pages of research questions and then announced we’d go over the answers the next time class met.

That gave me forty-eight hours to look up and find fifty responses that were in no way easy or simple to uncover.

That evening, I had two textbooks flipped open and three handouts spread across the table in front of me. Around me, the college library stayed fairly quiet, yet every scrape of a chair, shuffle of paper, or cough from a passing patron distracted me.

The guy sitting next to me, leisurely rubbing the toe of his shoe up and down my shin, didn’t help matters either. I wanted to tell Bradley to scram, but he was a part of my Tuesday evening study group, though I wasn’t too sure why he was a member. He didn’t seem too interested in the whole concept of actually doing homework. I figured he must’ve joined hoping to get the answers solved for him.

Thus far, I had gone with the whole “I’m trying to ignore you” plan. But unfortunately, he wasn’t catching the hint.

Across from us, Ethan Riker hovered over his own textbook as he squinted through thick-rimmed glasses and worked out what appeared to be a particularly difficult problem. I frowned as I glanced over and noticed he was three questions ahead of me.

Gasp! Not acceptable.

Clenching my teeth in competitive irritation, I once again focused on my worksheet and suddenly wished Mason were a Virology major. ~He~ had never tried to play footsie with me when we’d studied together—though with him, it would have been welcomed—and I had always worked faster than him.

But no, Mason was working toward an electrical engineering major. The buzzkill.

Besides, I was still avoiding him. Kind of. Okay, not at all. But I hadn’t seen him since Sunday evening at Sarah’s party because he was back to keeping his distance from me.

I nearly jumped out of my chair when I felt a very bare toe creep over my calf. Eww! If Bradley was rubbing some nasty foot fungus onto me, he was so dead.

As I scooted my chair a couple of inches away from him, he didn’t get the hint.

“Hey, Reese?” he whispered.

Not daring to give him any more incentive to harass me, I didn’t even glance up as I murmured, “Hmm?” in the utmost distracted tone I could fake.

“Can you help me find which animal the prion disease, scrapie, affects?”

I almost groaned. That was part of the first question on the worksheet. Good God Almighty. Bradley needed to get a move on it if he was going to finish the handout tonight. And he really needed to get his grubby feet off me before I kicked him.

Seriously.

Seeming to have mercy on me, Ethan looked up. “It’s sheep. Says right here in the textbook on page thirteen.”

“Oh,” Bradley mumbled unenthusiastically. “Thanks,” He sent a not-so-grateful look Ethan’s way. As he jotted down the answer, I glanced across the table. I wanted to send Ethan a discreet “~Thank you for getting him off my leg~” smile, but he already had his nose buried back in the worksheet.

And, damn it, now he was four questions ahead of me. Bradley lifted his face, turned toward me and opened his mouth as if he was going to ask for help on the second question. My teeth grated. On the edge of losing my cool completely, I seared him with an evil, don’t-you-dare glare.

Before Bradley could speak—or even attempt to—and I could blow up and tell him to keep his toes off me, a voice broke over the intercom. “The library will be closing in twenty minutes.”

Ah…saved by the closing library.

Next to Ethan, Debby slapped her book shut. “Thank God. I’m so out of here. I can’t answer another question on this stupid assignment tonight.”

Chase, who was sitting between Debby and Bradley, followed suit. “Who the hell cares about virus classifications anyway?”

Bradley watched with wide eyes as both Debby and Chase began to pack their things. It was a little too obvious he didn’t want to stick around the last twenty minutes either. And since I hadn’t fallen under the spell of his icky leg-massaging efforts, he no doubt wanted to flee with the others.

“Well, I should get ready for work,” he said.

As the three deserters stood simultaneously, I lifted my gaze toward Ethan, who was glancing expectantly back at me.

“You going to leave now too?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nope. I can’t. This is the only night I have time to study. And I need to get this stuff done.”

I let out a relieved breath. “Good.” Great, actually. Ethan was the only group member I liked to study with…even if he did work faster than me. “It’s the only free night I have, too.”

He studied me with a slight smile before shaking his head and looking at his homework. “Uh…did you find the answer to number eight? I had to skip it because I couldn’t find anything.”

Tickled he actually needed ~my~ help, I checked my work. “Oh, that one was in the worksheet Professor Chin passed out in class last Thursday.”

Ethan muttered something irritable under his breath. Propping his arm on the table, he buried his face in the crook of his elbow with a defeated groan. “I ~knew~ I should’ve gone to class that morning, but I was so tired after working late I couldn’t even drudge up the energy to turn off the alarm clock.”

I grabbed my copy of the worksheet and passed it across the table to him. “You can use mine.”

There was a pause before he lifted his face, sent me a mystified stare, and then slowly slid the sheet from my hand. “Thanks.” A second later, he asked, “Mind if I make a copy of this?”

“Hmm?” I glanced up and wow, he looked so studious and…yummy, sitting there, looking at me.

Ethan had sandy brown hair with natural blond highlights. He must not have been a big supporter of his barber, because his locks usually looked pretty shaggy. And his glasses gave him that sexy, young professor look.

I blinked, taken aback. Wow. Ethan wasn’t bad looking. How strange. I used to know whenever a guy was attractive the second I met him. But ever since Mason Lowe had entered my sphere, my hot-guy meter had bleeped out. It was as if no other male existed.

“Umm…” ~Brain, Reese. Use it~. “Uh…yeah,” I mumbled, furrowing my brow as if to let on that he’d broken my ~homework~ concentration. I ducked my face and pretended to read a passage from one of the two huge volumes in front of me.

“Yeah, you mind?” he asked. “Or yeah, I can make a copy?”

“Huh?” I looked up and gave a slight shake of my head. “Why would I mind if you made a copy?”

Belatedly, I noticed the amused glimmer in his gaze a split second before he full-out grinned. The magnetism of his smile didn’t quite reach off-the-chart Mason levels, but it was pretty darn cute.

“You have personal notes in the margins,” he said. “Some people would mind.”

I stared at him a moment longer before saying, “I don’t mind.”

His smile warmed, rising his looks a couple of notches on the Richter scale. “Well…thank you.”

I watched him stroll away, considering the possibilities there, and surprisingly enough, they didn’t totally suck.

“Hmm.” That was nice to know. There might still be life for me after I’d totally ruined myself over a certain psycho stalker ex-boyfriend and then become completely hung up on a non-retired gigolo.

When Ethan returned, he set my worksheet down to the side of my books. “Here’s your original.”

“Thanks. Have you looked at number nineteen yet?”

“Just a sec.” Ethan dropped into his chair and consulted his worksheet. “Yeah, I remember reading about this.” Morphing out of sexy co-ed mode and back into bland study partner, Ethan flipped through one of his own numerous textbooks. “Here.” Quoting a passage aloud, he read, “‘Human diseases that are believed to be caused by prions are…’”

As he spoke, I scooted my chair around in order to sit next to him. He faltered in his reading to glance at me. Then he grinned, his cheeks flushed, and he kept on until he’d quoted the entire paragraph.

“There it is,” I murmured. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He cleared his throat and focused on his assignment.

“Oh, hey. And what Baltimore classification type did you put down for Parvoviridae?”

“I put down group two.”

I soaked in his answer and continued to stare at the question before wrinkling my nose. “But isn’t Parvoviridae double-stranded?”

Glancing up at the question, Ethan read it through again. “Oh, hell,” he muttered. He started to erase what he’d originally put. “Good catch.”

I grinned, feeling a little smug that I’d corrected the brilliant Ethan Riker.

“It’s fine.” I tossed my hair in my yes-I’m-awesome manner. “Would you put it into group one then?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It’d have go there, don’t you think? It’s a DNA virus and it’s not reverse transcribing, so…”

“Group one it is,” I announced.

“May I have your attention, please?” a voice spoke from the library’s speakers. “The library will be closing in five minutes.”

Groaning in disappointment, Ethan looked at his homework. “I’m not going to finish this assignment before they close.”

I gulped. “Neither am I.” Oh, the gloom.

I had to finish the assignment tonight or I wouldn’t—“Hey, how late is the student center open?”

Ethan checked his watch. “It closed an hour ago.”

I rolled my eyes. “Wonderful.”

Ethan’s stomach growled as if it agreed, which reminded me I hadn’t eaten either.

Not wanting to think about food because my kitchen shelves looked pretty bleak, I yawned and stretched, hoping to keep the sudden hunger pangs at bay.

“Have you eaten?” Ethan asked, bringing up the issue anyway.

I could’ve strangled him. Thanks, bud. Go and remind me I was down to my last box of brown rice and mac and cheese. It would have to stretch until my next money installment from my parents or one of my jobs.

I shook my head no.

“Well, I’m starving.” He shut his book. “If you don’t mind two roommates who’ll probably be playing Zombie Invasion as loud as the speakers will permit, I say we go to my dorm, where we can spread this crap out more and not get kicked out at closing. That way, we can order a pizza or something. My treat. I need to eat before I drop.”

I watched him warily, wondering if he had some kind of ulterior motive behind his invitation. But when he glanced at me, he didn’t look like some sex-crazed maniac who wanted to lure the first unsuspecting girl back to his lair. He looked like a tired and starving college kid who just wanted to finish his homework and go to sleep.

Realizing this was ~Ethan~—not Jeremy—I was talking to, I shook my head free of concern. “I could eat. But let’s go to my apartment instead. I don’t have any zombie-addicted roomies who’ll bother us.”

Ethan looked stunned by my invite but quickly stumbled his way into accepting. When his face flushed, it finally struck me, wow, I think the guy might have a mini crush on me.

He turned suddenly awkward. “Do, uh, do you want me to follow you home then?”

“That’d be great.”

I have to admit, I had an ulterior motive. I didn’t want to go to Ethan’s now, while there was still some daylight left, only to leave his place later on when it was dark and scary out. Plus I liked the idea of having someone else around when I got home. Eva had been at my place so much lately, I felt a little spoiled. She might have been dealing with her own issues—she still hadn’t told her parents about the baby because Alec had totally flipped out when she’d told him—but her mere presence had helped keep my Jeremy terror at bay.

When Ethan followed me home and up to my apartment, he was unusually quiet. “Neat place,” was pretty much all he said after he followed me inside.

“It’s growing on me.” I tossed my book bag onto the coffee table and scrounged up my cell phone. “Is there any specific pizza place you want to order from?”

He shook his head as he wandered curiously around the front room. “Anywhere’s fine. I’ll take pepperoni.”

I dialed my favorite delivery and placed our order. By the time I hung up, Ethan had made his way to the refrigerator and was staring at the only picture I had pinned up with a magnet.

“Who’s this?”

I grinned fondly at the snapshot of Sarah sitting in her wheelchair and perfecting a thumbs-up for the camera.

“That’s the little girl I babysit. Her name’s Sarah, and she is sooo precious.”

Ethan nodded. “What’s wrong with her?”

I scowled and wanted to snap, “~Nothing’s wrong with her. She’s perfect in every way~,” but I knew what he meant.

“She has cerebral palsy. It kind of freaked me out a little when I first met her,” I confessed. “But once you spend five minutes in her company, you don’t see the wheelchair at all. She’s just…she’s a bundle of sunshine.”

“She sounds special.”

“She is. Oh! You might know who her brother is. He goes to Waterford too. Mason Lowe?” I don’t know why I had to say his name aloud. It just tumbled out of me.

Ethan snapped alert. “Mason Lowe? Yeah, I know who Mason is. ~He’s ~her brother?”

I nodded. “Yep. He could tell you how awesome Sarah is too.”

“I…I’ve actually seen you and Mason around campus together a few times.”

I shrugged, trying not to react to his curious gaze. “Sure. We became friends because of her.”

“Friends,” he repeated. Flushing, he glanced away. “I thought…I’m sorry. I’d just always assumed you two were…dating.”

I shook my head, though my neck felt sluggish and my cheeks suddenly hot. “No. No, we’re just…friends.”

Sadly.

“Well, that’s kind of a relief. I’d heard…I mean.” He bit his bottom lip. “I’ve heard some pretty crazy rumors about him.”

Hadn’t everyone? I wanted to scream and cry and throw stuff on Mason’s behalf. And on my own behalf too.

But I forced utter nonchalance. With a grin and roll of my eyes, I said, “Let me guess. You heard he’s a gigolo who works at the Country Club as a front to set up all the meetings with his rich, older, female clients.”

Ethan turned beet red. “Uh, yeah. Something like that. So…” He lifted his eyebrows above his glasses. “It’s not true, then?”

“Umm…” I made a strange face. “Wouldn’t he be, like, ~in jail~ by now if he was practicing prostitution so openly?”

With a shrug, Ethan said, “I guess. But it doesn’t matter. I’m just relieved he’s not dating you.”

“Why?” I asked, immediately alarmed. “What else have you heard about him?”

“Nothing. I just…” He drew in a long breath. “I’ve always wanted to ask you out.”

My mouth fell open. “Really?” Wow, shy Ethan Riker might not be so shy after all.

He nodded bashfully and glanced away. “So what do you say?” he pushed. “This Friday? Do you want to, I don’t know, do something with me?”

I began to shake my head and turn him down. But then I paused and remembered how crushed I’d felt on Sunday when Mason had gotten that phone call and ducked into the bathroom for a private word with his client. I remembered how it had hurt to listen to him talk about how he’d almost been caught by a husband. I remembered all the reasons we could never be together.

Mason certainly wasn’t acting like a monk just because he wanted to be with me. Why should I act like a nun just because he was the only person I wanted to be with?

I had no reason to be faithful. We certainly weren’t dating. We could never date.

We were just friends.

And I needed to move on with my life. If I could get over what had happened with Jeremy only to get stuck on Mason, I was going to end up back on square one.

Nowhere.

But I was still uncertain. “I’m supposed to babysit Sarah every Friday,” I said with a wince.

When Ethan’s shoulders fell and a crushed look crossed his face, I felt evil. I didn’t mean to, but I quickly added, “How about Saturday?”

He instantly brightened. “Saturday would be great. Pick you up at seven?”