Evan walked onto the university campus, looking around at all the fresh faces and friendly smiles. The place felt so productive. He loved it. Sometimes he even came to do his own homework here.

He didn't mind the glances from all the university girls, either. They would give him those big doll eyes and he'd smile at them, maybe throw them a wink if they looked like they were having a bad day. But if the question ever came up, the answer was always the same.

Hey handsome, what are you doing out here?

Waiting for my girlfriend.

It was still a little fun to break hearts. He couldn't help it.

But when the time rolled around, when classes were dismissed, and students started pouring out of buildings, he always knew where to go. On a Monday, like today, it was going to be the Miller Building, where Evan would stand by the door and wait, cross-armed, for her. Once, someone had literally walked up to him and asked if he would pose for some reference photos, for sketching. He had happily obliged, wondering if that was how university kids flirted nowadays.

Isobel would walk out of the building deep in discussion about her thesis with her textile history professor. Her professor was a good-looking woman, who Isobel considered to be a mortal god. Whenever she needed books, she gladly gave her copies out of her own personal library to study, and she was happy to answer any questions she had for her paper.

Evan didn't really get these university types, but he did understand that Isobel adored academia. He was starting to wonder if she was going to go for her doctorate after all, since she was so in love with her master's program.

When Isobel turned and saw him, her face lit up in that bright, ridiculous smile he would never get used to. Evan's heart skipped a beat, and he smiled back at her. He probably should have put on some sunglasses, because the vibrancy of her smile was blinding him. She excused herself from the professor, and hurried over to meet him.

Evan caught her in an embrace, wrapping his arms around her and picking her up in a bear hug. Isobel laughed, her messy bun flopping into his face. Evan set her down and kissed her, holding her face in one hand. He chuckled, and said, "Hey baby, how was class?"

"It was great! I think I finally might have gotten a first draft approval from my adviser. We might be moving forward in the process soon. Erica and Dan—you remember, from the sculpting program? They want to have dinner and interrogate me for some kind of weird art installation."

"Interrogate?"

"Erica doesn't do interviews. She's too intense."

"And Dan?"

"Dan lets Erica do the talking."

Evan snorted. "I know how that feels."

"What do you mean by that? I'm not chatty," she said.

"I'm not chatty."

"We're the inexplicably strong silent duo."

Evan snorted and rolled his eyes.

Isobel took his hand, and said, "How about you? How was training?"

"Fine. I got to actually ride in an ambulance, and this time no one was bleeding to death. Or having a heart attack."

"Oh, that's good."

"Yeah."

"Did Roland say when you were going to be able to take your exam?"

"He said that if I keep up the independent study I could probably be ready by next week."

She smiled. He smiled back. Evan was as eager as she was to see him live this new part of his life. It had been a bittersweet good bye to the life he had lived before. He had sold the red car, the big house, the extra things, the furniture no one was using anymore. He had taken all of that money and invested it into a much smaller, much more comfortable house with a bigger backyard in a different small town that only added fifteen minutes to Isobel's commute. Two bedrooms, a single living room, a normal amount of floor space, and a decent security system. He was investing in a future he could sustain.

After a little soul-searching—it hadn't taken much—Evan had decided to begin a new career as a paramedic. Rodney was in prison on a laundry list of charges from assault to illegally pirating movies. He'd been a bad boy, and he was going to be locked up for a while.

Isobel still lived in the dorms, but three nights a week she was home with him. They would laugh, and call it a practice run for when Isobel finished her degree. Or her doctorate. Whichever.

They weren't in a rush.

They climbed into Evan's much more sensible SUV, although it was still red, but a much more practical, subdued red. "What time is that dinner thing?" he asked.

"They wanted to meet at Chez Guevara at eight. Does that work? Do you have to be at class early tomorrow?"

"Oh, no. Do you want me to go, though? Your artsy friends never like me."

"Erica and Dan will like you. Dan likes everyone and Erica is too focused on the art, man."

Evan snorted as he started the SUV. It rumbled to life without a complaint, sedately and reliably. It was the opposite of that terrible red car and that junker she’d used to drive.

"So where do you want to go now?"

Isobel smiled, and leaned over the center console to rest against his armrest. "I want to go home for a while."

"Oh? And what do you want to do once we get there?"

Her big eyes went soft. Her hand on his chest felt like a promise. "I want to spend some time discussing the craft room."

Evan rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you do. Which we can as soon as we've discussed the laundry room."

"Talk dirty to me."

"And maybe the backyard."

"Oh, baby," she crooned.

"But I think instead of discussing those things," he said, his voice going low, deep in his throat. Gently, ever so gently, he put his hand on her throat, cradling her chin. "I want to spend some time discussing the bedroom."

"And what would we be discussing in there?"

"How much I love you, of course."

"That's awfully sappy for a meat head."

"And you're awfully mouthy, for a goody-two-shoes."

When they kissed, everything went quiet. Evan's eyes peeked open ever so slightly, and he smiled against her mouth.

He was pretty sure that he was in love with her.