Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Let’s get drinks,” Avery yelled in my ear.
Relief washed through me. I’d expected her to ditch me the second we were inside. I wouldn’t cling to her, but I was grateful not to be abandoned immediately. Brent led the way as we threaded through the crowd, down the hallway and into a kitchen where lines had formed at the two kegs.
I took my place, standing behind a guy dressed as an astronaut. He turned, gave me a glance, then his head swiveled forward with disinterest. It was a reaction I was used to. I wasn’t homely, but I was incredibly average. Nothing . . . special. Normally, my dull brown hair hung listlessly to brush my shoulders, although tonight I had the front section pulled up into two high ponytails to complete my naughty schoolgirl look. My skin was pale. I’d forgone sports in high school because I wasn’t coordinated, or fast, and that way I could focus on my advanced placement classes. My days were spent at a desk, rather than outside in the sun.
The line crept forward. The astronaut stepped up to the keg, but abruptly shifted to the side, slipping a hand behind my back. “Ladies first.”
I went rigid under this stranger’s hand. He gave me a friendly smile, but I got the feeling he expected me to be impressed. Like this was a grand, chivalrous gesture. A sacrifice, and not just polite courtesy. My gaze went from the astronaut to the empty red Solo cup extended out to me.
“Thanks,” I said to both the astronaut and the guy handing me the—
It was him.
My breath stalled in my lungs. He wore dark navy pants, a matching dress shirt, and a gold badge clipped to his chest. At his waist was a supply belt with a holster. The gun looked terrifyingly real, but it was also covered with the holster, and could just be part of the costume.
Or maybe Luka was a cop now. I hadn’t seen him in two years. Although he had the perfect serious demeanor to match the uniform, I doubted my TA from Calculus 220 had gone into law enforcement. My gut said no, and a closer look at the badge proved it was fake.
I gripped the plastic cup so fiercely, it crinkled, drawing his focus.
His dark gaze swept over me and sharpened, cutting me bare. I felt naked under his assessing eyes. There was a flicker of recognition in him, which was surprising. We’d never spoken. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me, but I’d spent countless hours of class studying him when it should have been the whiteboard.
Like me, Luka rarely smiled. He’d sat in the corner at the front of the room and faced the class while the professor demonstrated equations. Luka’s head of espresso brown hair was always tipped downward, grading our worksheets. Every once in a while, he’d cock an eyebrow and circle aggressively with his red pen, as if the student’s wrong answer had offended him.
I’d grown to love watching his subtle cues, so much so, I’d considered purposefully answering one of the questions wrong, just to get a rise. Yet, I wouldn’t do a thing to screw up my scholarships. Luka’s fun, displeased reaction would last a moment, but a bad grade could destroy everything.
With heels on tonight, I didn’t have to tilt my head up as much to meet his gaze. His eyes were the color of onyx and framed with long, thick lashes. His nose was straight, his jaw defined. Tonight he was clean shaven with his hair styled casually. Two years ago he’d looked like an average grad student—well, better. Most looked like they’d just rolled out of bed and barely made it to class, but he’d seemed more pulled together. Always a coffee cup in hand for the early class.
So this version of Luka was downright intimidating. He’d been cute before, but this man was handsome. In fact, he was so attractive, my knees softened and my stomach trembled. He’d changed so much in the last two years. Perhaps it was the implied violence of the gun at his hip, but he seemed . . . dangerous now. It was a rush just to look at him.
The hand in the small of my back moved, causing me to jolt.
“He can’t fill up your cup if you don’t hold it out, sweetheart,” the astronaut said.
Of course. I’d been standing frozen beside the keg, clutching the plastic cup tight to my stomach. It wasn’t much of an invitation to pour me a drink, was it? I tried not to bristle at the sweetheart comment, and also not to stare at the man before me who had one hand on the tap.
Luka’s gaze dropped down as I held out the cup and he filled it. His expression was total indifference.