Chapter Four

By late Saturday afternoon, I’m ready to vibrate out of my skin. My anxiety’s turned up to eleven, and I don’t want to take my emergency backup medication because it makes me sleepy. Instead, I fire off a text to Grant, hoping he hasn’t left campus yet: Freaking out. All your fault.

He responds a few minutes later: On my way.

I spend the time until Grant arrives focusing on my breathing, reminding myself that going out with Eve is a good thing, and trying to figure out something tangible for him to do. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror mounted on the closet door—hair a mess, oversize Hulk T-shirt that’s seen better days, faded jeans, bare toes peeking out below the frayed hems.

When Grant knocks, I throw the door open and wave him in before slamming it back shut and spinning on my heel to face him.

“Help. Me.”

Grant crosses his arms and gives me an eyebrow. “What exactly am I helping you with?”

“Clothing.” It’s a ridiculous request, but it’s something to do. “You got me into this, so you get the job of helping me figure out what to wear.” Grant is no one’s fashion plate, but he’s got more sense of style than I do, not that that’s saying much.

I stomp over to my closet and start flipping through hangers. “Eve Frederick is insisting on taking me to dinner tonight because I fixed her computer, which is entirely your fault, and I have no idea what to wear that won’t make me look like a kid playing dress-up.” I give up and plant my hands on my hips. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Grant’s hand closing on my shoulder makes me jump. “Breathe,” he orders. “You’re gonna be fine. It’s just a date, right?”

I start to deny it, but the spot on my cheek that Eve kissed—not once, but twice now—still burns with the memory. “I…guess so?” I nibble at the corner of my lip as a little excitement bubbles up, parting the sea of nervous waves. “But I don’t know. And either way, I need to look like a normal human being, but not like I’m trying to get her into bed. You know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

It’s so weird for Grant to not be teasing me, but he gets it. We might poke at each other occasionally, but when it’s important, we come through.

Grant pushes me gently out of the way and fingers the edges of a few of the shirts and pants hanging in my closet. It’s mostly T-shirts and loose jeans, and I might not care about looking fashionable most of the time, but tonight’s different. I need to look the part, but I need to be able to relax, too. Date-ready, but still at ease.

“Okay.” Grant pulls out a hanger from the deep recesses of the closet. “You have a plain black tank top?” I nod. “Wear that, and put this over it.”

He hands over a gauzy black and white patterned top I vaguely remember Mom buying me for some event around our high school graduation.

“All right,” I agree. It’s loose and flowy, so it should be comfortable enough. “Jeans?”

“You have some that are not so”—he waves his hand toward the ones I’m wearing—“baggy?”

There’s a pair I bought without trying on that were too snug for comfort, but I shake my head. “I can’t…”

Grant gives me a firm look. “Let me see.”

Reluctant, I dig through and find them hanging behind the two skirts I own, which have been worn about a half dozen times total. Grant pulls them off the hanger and nods in approval.

“These jeans, tank top, blouse, black shoes. Sneakers are fine, but I’d stay away from combat boots.” He gives me a grin with much more of the usual teasing in it. “Not that I think the boots would scare her off.”

“More’s the pity.” But I grab the jeans, toss them over my arm, and make shooing motions with my newly freed hand. “Thanks. Now get out of here. I have some more anxious pacing to do before getting ready.”

“Leave your hair down,” he says as he heads for the door. “And wear your contacts.”

“Whatever. Tell Mom and Dad I love them. And bring me cheesecake!”

He laughs as he lets the door fall shut behind him, and I’m left staring at the clothes he picked out. I probably could’ve done it myself, but I’d been too busy thinking about all the possible things that could go wrong on this date. And freaking out.

That’s not likely to stop anytime soon, either.

I glance at the clock. Two hours to go. I showered last night, but then I slept with my hair still wet, so it’s going to need work. Bonus: showering will kill time and keep my mind occupied.

An hour later, I’m clean and my hair is as dry and as styled as it gets. I get dressed, completing the outfit Grant helped me pick out with a pair of Mary Jane–style slip-ons I forgot I had. I swear Mom must have snuck in extra clothes when I was packing for this year. But hey, it means I can go out looking like a normal almost-twenty-year-old coed and not a recluse.

I waffle on what to do about my hair and contacts and decide to compromise. I leave the hair down but stick with the glasses. I haven’t worn my contacts in so long that they’d probably end up irritating the hell out of me, and bloodshot-and-weepy is never a good look.

I stand back and give myself a critical once-over in the full-length mirror mounted on the back of the closet door. Not half bad. The jeans hug the line of my body instead of hiding it, and the tank and blouse are also much more snug than I’m used to, but I can live with it. I do have to fight the instinct to push my hair forward so I can hide behind it.

“Just be normal,” I mutter. “You can fake anything for a few hours.”

The way I nearly jump out of my skin at the knock on the door shows that might not be so true.

I suck in a deep breath, blow it out slow and long, and then cross to open the door.

Eve is smiling—a little tentatively, which surprises me—but when she sees me, her eyes widen and her gaze runs all the way down and then all the way up my body.

I might not be the sharpest knife in the social kitchen, but I know when I’m being checked out. And Eve Frederick just got herself an eyeful.

Not that I haven’t returned the favor. She’s as gorgeous as ever, her pink hair curled close to her head instead of standing up on end as usual. Her makeup is softer, too, smokey eyes and soft pink lips. She’s wearing a long-sleeved top, black with tiny multicolor stripes running through it, and jeans like mine.

Something deep inside me loosens as we check each other out—hey, at least she likes what she sees—but another part ramps up the freaking out: Oh, hell, now I have to live up to the way she looked at me?

Eve’s smile widens, any hesitation gone. “You look great,” she says. “You ready?”

I give a shaky nod. “Let me grab my keycard.”

I duck behind my desk to take a deep breath before stuffing my card and phone in my pockets. I smile as I walk back toward her. “Ready.”

It’s one of the biggest lies I’ve told in my life.

…

At the restaurant, things don’t get much easier. It’s all dark wood and low lighting and soft music, populated by obvious couples cozied up together in small, curved booths and tables tucked into corners.

A hostess leads us to one of the tables, and I let out a small sigh of relief as we take seats across from each other. Sitting side by side might’ve been more than I could handle at this point.

Of course, I also get to look at her this way, and that’s a huge bonus.

“Elise will be with you in just a moment,” the hostess says as she hands us menus, and Eve flashes her a brief smile, which she returns before heading back toward the front.

Eve turns that smile toward me. “Have you been here before?”

I shake my head and glance down at the menu. My response catches in my throat at the prices, which are way higher than I’d expected. I glance up at Eve, but she’s looking over the menu, too, her expression unbothered.

I swallow around a dry knot in my throat, and as if she sensed my need, a young woman in black slacks, an impeccably pressed tuxedo shirt, and a crisp black bowtie appears at my side.

She sets down two goblets in front of us and immediately starts filling them with water from a plain glass bottle. “Good evening, my name is Elise and I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” she says. “Our soup du jour is French onion, and the market catch of the day is fresh north Georgia rainbow trout. What would you like to drink?”

Eve glances at me, and I take a quick sip from my glass before answering her silent question. “Water’s fine.”

Eve looks back at Elise. “Just water, thanks.”

Elise nods. “I’ll be right back with your bread.”

She disappears so quickly that I’m tempted to look around for some smoke and mirrors, but Eve’s turned her attention back to me. “I’ve been here once before, a long time ago. Hasn’t changed much. It’s a little stuffy, but the food’s great. If you like steak, have the filet.”

I do like steak, but the full-size filet is one of the priciest items on the menu, and I’ve always heard you should never order something expensive on a first date—not unless you want it to be the last date.

Considering I’m still not sure if this is a date, I should probably come down somewhere in the middle.

“That does look good,” I say, skimming the menu quickly for another option. “Maybe the petite filet? I don’t know if I could eat the full-size one.”

“Mmm, good point.” Eve shifts, and something brushes against the side of my foot. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s Eve’s foot, and another second after that, her other foot touches the other side of mine. It’s as if she’s decided that I’m too far away for holding hands—or maybe that it’s too direct this early—and so she’s gone for my foot instead.

Heat rushes over me. I suppose that answers the question of whether this is really a date.

I swallow down my nerves, silently order the flock of butterflies in my stomach to stop flapping around, and give her the best smile I can muster before going back to figuring out what I can eat that my anxiety won’t send right back up again.

I don’t move my foot away from her, though. If it’s a date, I’m going to take full advantage.

If it’s a date, maybe I’ll get more than a kiss on the cheek at the end?

The thought sends a shiver through me, and I glance up to find Eve watching me, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. I return it more easily this time. The more she looks at me like that—clear interest, open attraction—the easier it is for me to relax and enjoy being with her.

The server returns and takes our orders, and once she’s gone, Eve breaks the silence between us before it grows awkward. “Thanks for coming out tonight,” she says. “How’d you get into fixing computers anyway? That’s your major?”

I take another sip of water and nod. “Computer sciences, yeah. We don’t do a lot of hardware work for class, though, so most of that I learned on my own. I started messing with computers when I was a kid. Messed up my parents’ desktop so much they had to buy a new one. But Dad let me keep the old one, and after a while I got it working again. That was my computer until my senior year in high school, when they got Grant and me new laptops to bring to college with us. I was fixing phones and computers for friends already then, so when I got here, I just kept doing it to make some extra money. That’s how I was able to pay for a private room this year.”

I stop short, suddenly realizing I’m running off at the mouth, but Eve doesn’t look bored or annoyed. She actually looks interested. She’s leaning forward, her eyes fixed on my face. She smiles at me. “That’s awesome,” she says. “I’ve never been that good with computers. I mean, I can use them fine, but fixing things that go wrong is just beyond me.” Her feet press in against the sides of mine. “Good thing I have you now.”

My face heats, and I drop my gaze to where my hands are gripping each other in my lap. “Most of the time it’s not too hard.” I glance back up. “Like yours overheating. If it happens again, you’ll know what to do.”

Eve tilts her head. “Maybe. But you sure saved me on that one.” Her smile widens. “Which is why we’re here, right? Well.” She rubs her feet against mine. “Maybe not the only reason.”

I reach for my water to soothe my suddenly dry throat. There are zero doubts now that this is a date. Which just kicks my anxiety back into overdrive. I set my glass down with extra caution and take a deep breath, pushing aside everything except Eve.

“What about you?” I ask. “What’s your major?”

I have to sound awkward, but Eve just smiles wider. “Business management. Sounds dry, but I’m focusing on sports management, which makes it more fun.”

I frown. “Is there pro softball?”

She laughs softly. “Sort of. A small league. I’d rather work in something bigger. I’m not too picky about which sport, but baseball would be awesome.”

I nod my agreement. “I grew up watching a lot of baseball. Mostly on TV, but we went to the games. We never played because Grant got into gymnastics so young. But our parents met at a minor league baseball game, so we’ve always watched as a family.”

Eve’s smile slips for a moment, but she recovers quickly. “I started softball when I was eight. There wasn’t a lot to do in the town where I grew up, but there were some rec league teams.” She reaches for her water. “Kept the kids out of trouble. Mostly.”

She winks over the rim of her glass, and it sends a shiver through me. I can just imagine the kind of trouble Eve could get into. She certainly doesn’t strike me as the shy and retiring type.

Not like me.

Maybe that explains Eve’s interest in me. Opposites attract, right? And the shy, quiet, mousy computer geek is about as opposite as you can get from the gorgeous, outgoing sports star.

At least things are going well so far. I haven’t tripped over my words, knocked over my water, or done anything else embarrassing. Granted, we haven’t gotten our food yet, so there’s plenty of time.

As if on cue, our server arrives with our salads and a basket of bread. Eve gives her a smile and a thanks before she disappears again, and we spend the next couple of minutes pouring dressing and buttering bread. Eve picks up her slice of bread and grins.

“I am so, so glad I’m in a sport where I don’t have to skip the carbs.”

I laugh as she takes a big bite and chews heartily. “I can’t imagine giving up bread. Or cheese. I think I could live off just those two things if I had to.”

Eve nods as she swallows. “Nothing in the world beats a good grilled cheese sandwich.”

I can’t disagree with her there.

We fall silent as we eat our salads, but it’s comfortable, not awkward. We exchange glances and smiles between bites, and Eve’s feet stay pressed against mine under the table. When she’s about halfway through her salad, though, she sets down her fork and pushes the bowl away.

I freeze in place with my fork halfway to my mouth. “Not good?”

Eve smiles. “It’s great! I just like saving some salad to have with my meal.” She waves a hand toward me. “Don’t let me stop you, though!”

It’s a moot point, since before I can decide whether to keep eating or wait with her, a food runner arrives with a large tray balanced on one hand and a fold-out stand grasped in the other. I set down my fork and push my own bowl out of the way so he can serve our dinner and top up our water glasses.

Once he’s finished, he glances between us, his gaze lingering on Eve just a little too long. “Anything else I can get you?”

I’m not sure Eve noticed his attention until she leans forward, her eyes sparkling. “I think we’re fine. Do you need anything, babe?”

My face lights up like a bonfire. “Nope,” I squeak out. “All good.”

She turns back to the server with one eyebrow lifted. “Thanks so much.”

With flushed cheeks at the dismissal, he nods before he grabs the tray and stand and hurries away.

I choke out a laugh, and after a moment, Eve joins in. “Sorry about that,” she says around giggles. “I mostly just wanted to see the look on his face.”

I shake my head. “Poor guy. I mean, I can’t blame him. Have you seen you?”

Oh God, I did not just say that.

Before I can react—cover my face with my hands, knock over my glass as a distraction, slither under the table and out the door—Eve laughs and reaches for my hand where it’s sitting next to my glass. “Thank you for that,” she says, squeezing my fingers. “But from where I’m sitting, I’m the one with the best view in the house.”

I’m about to seriously melt right under the table, partly from the compliment and partly from residual embarrassment, but Eve just gives my hand one more light squeeze before retreating. “This looks great,” she says as she picks up her fork and steak knife. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

The rest of dinner flies by. Eve is definitely the one keeping the conversation going, but I do a decent job holding up my end. The low-level jitters in my stomach never completely go away, but I’m calm—even happy—as we go from one topic to another—classes, music, sports—without any awkward pauses.

Our server returns to check on us just as I’m setting down my fork for the last time. Unfortunately for my full stomach, she’s carrying a dessert tray, and right in the middle is the most decadent looking slice of chocolate cake I’ve ever seen.

“Dessert, ladies? I can highly recommend any of these, but the key lime pie is my personal favorite.”

“That does look good,” Eve says, but she points to the same slice of cake I’m eyeing. “But that cake looks amazing.” She looks across at me, brows raised. “Want to split a slice? I think I’d die if I tried to eat the whole thing.”

I nod. “Sounds great.”

“Awesome! One slice of Chocolate Overload Supreme with two forks?”

“Perfect.” Eve gives her what I’m coming to think of as her “public politeness” smile, and the woman goes off to fetch our dessert. When Eve looks back at me, her face shifts minutely, just enough to turn her smile into something real.

“The only downside of chocolate cake for dessert in a restaurant,” she says, “is that they don’t usually offer milk to go with it.”

“I know! It’s so unfair.” I lean forward. “I guess they think people will order coffee with dessert.”

Eve makes a face. “I’m not much of a coffee drinker. I’ll get a Frappuccino or something now and then, but when I need caffeine, I’d rather have a Coke or something.”

I laugh at that. “Me too. Except root beer. I keep Barq’s in my dorm room all the time.”

Eve makes that face again. “Not really a root beer fan, either.”

Before I think about it, I smirk. “Well, we can’t all be perfect.”

Oh my God, what happened to being on my best behavior? I’m about ready to stammer out an excuse to go to the bathroom and hide, but Eve is laughing again, her eyes sparkling even in the low lighting. And good God, she is beautiful. I still don’t know how she ended up with me, but I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Our dessert arrives within just a few minutes, and we go to work on it immediately, both letting out low moans as we take our first bites. Our eyes meet over the table, and we break into giggles.

“I’d ask if you want to be alone with your cake,” Eve says, “but I’m not about to let either of you out of my sight.”

I hardly notice my cheeks warming at this point. It’s nothing compared to the fiery blushes from earlier in the evening. All the stress and angst has melted away, and I can just enjoy being with Eve. I keep glancing across at her, and more often than not, I find her looking right back. That sets a new flock of butterflies loose in my stomach, but this time they’re made of anticipation, not unease.

We work steadily on the cake until there’s nothing left but crumbs, and as if we planned it in advance, we set down our forks and sit back in our seats.

“That was so good,” is all I can think of to say.

Eve just nods her agreement. “All right.” She sits up and looks around. “Now all we need is the check, and we can get out of here.”

Ten minutes later, Eve sets aside the signed card receipt and slides out of her chair. “C’mon,” she says, holding out her hand. “Let’s get you home before midnight, Cinderella.”

I take her hand as I stand, and she twines our fingers together before heading toward the door. At first, I feel like every eye in the room is on us, but when I glance around, no one seems to be noticing. What would it matter anyway? It’s none of their business who I hold hands with.

Stepping outside is like walking into a freezer. The temperature’s dropped noticeably since we arrived, and I didn’t bring a jacket or anything with me. Thankfully, it’s a quick walk to the car, where Eve comes around to my side, opening the door for me and insisting on helping me in. I’m too charmed to protest.

Once she’s in the driver’s seat and has the car cranked, she cranks the heat, too. “Brrr.” She shivers. “I’m so ready for spring to get here, aren’t you?”

I settle back in my seat as she backs out of the parking space. “Spring, sure. But warm spring days are followed by hot summer days, and those I could do without.”

Eve laughs, checking traffic and pulling out smoothly onto the road back to campus. “I know what you mean. The last few weeks of the season are always miserable, and that’s in June, before the heat even gets going good.”

“I just try to stay inside as much as I can.” I snort softly. “I mean, I stay inside a lot anyway. But summer in the South is why they invented air-conditioning, so I do my best to use it. No reason to get all sweaty when you don’t have to.”

Eve shoots me a glance out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah. I mean, there are better reasons to get sweaty.”

And just like that, all my packed-down nerves explode through me. My throat closes up, my hands tremble, and those butterflies start doing Olympic-caliber acrobatics.

This is a date. When did I get so relaxed that I forgot this crucial detail?

And I don’t know what comes next. What does she expect from me?

I know I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. But right now, I don’t know what I want—except that I’d like to go out with her again.

If I can get through whatever comes next without losing it.

Eve pulls into a short-term parking space in front of my dorm, which is clue number one: she doesn’t plan on staying long. And that helps me relax again. A little bit.

She flashes me her quicksilver grin. “Wait right there,” she says, before climbing out of the car. A minute later, she’s opening my door and holding out her hand. “May I walk you to your door, Ms. Clark?”

My heart jumps, and I give my hand a quick rub on my thigh to dry up any sweat and reach out to take hers. Her skin is warm against mine as she helps me out of the car, and when she slides her hand around to thread our fingers together, a shiver runs down my spine. It’s not the first time she’s held my hand tonight, but it feels different.

“C’mon,” she says, heading toward the side door, where my keycard will get us in without going through the lobby.

My brain, of course, immediately goes into a spiral. Is she avoiding the lobby in case there are people hanging out there, because she doesn’t want anyone to see us? But if she cared about that, would she be holding my hand in the first place?

I try to shake off my doubts. She hasn’t shown any sign of anything other than genuine interest in me. I’m not going to let my messed-up brain take that away from me.

We’re at the door by then, and I dig out my card with my free hand and swipe us in. My room is only a few doors down. We stop just outside, and I turn to face her, gathering what wits I still have.

“Thank you for dinner,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected. “I had a really good time.”

That gets one of her real smiles. “I did too,” she says. “I’d really like to see you again sometime.”

A jolt runs through me, a heady mix of surprise, happiness, and anticipation. “I’d like that too.”

Eve moves closer, and I swallow hard but don’t move away. She presses a lingering kiss just at the corner of my mouth, closer than the cheek kiss she’d given me before, but short of a direct kiss. I don’t try to return it. I just savor the feel of her warm lips on my skin.

“See you soon,” she whispers, her warm breath brushing my ear, and when I open my eyes—I didn’t even realize I’d closed them—she’s gone.

I stumble into my room, mind and body in a whirl, and make a beeline for my bed, where I slump back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.

Jesus. If she can mess me up this much with just a few small touches, I don’t know if I can survive more.

But damned if I don’t want to find out.