Chapter One
Margie was the last one in the library again, for the third evening in a row. She looked around her and saw Mrs. Brown, the librarian, glaring at her from over the top of her small, square spectacles. Margie mouthed the word ‘sorry’, then quickly collected all the books from the table and deposited them into her backpack before standing up. She knew she was going to ace the exam, but she had nothing else to do.
“I promise I’ll keep an eye on the clock tomorrow,” Margie said, with the widest smile she could manage, as she headed out past Mrs. Brown.
The corridors of the building were all empty as Margie walked down towards the large front doors. She could hear the rubber soles of her canvas shoes squeak as she walked. Dinner was on her mind, although she hadn’t even realized she was hungry until now.
Her hands were on the door when it was suddenly pushed towards her, and she felt a tall, hard body slam into her. Margie’s backpack, which she was carrying on one shoulder, went flying and she felt a rough thud as her back hit the wall.
“Oh, shit!” She heard a voice as she blinked her eyes open.
“Are you okay? Shit, shit.” The voice continued. Rough hands pulled her back up and her eyes finally adjusted to normal vision. Her own hands were placed on Lance Healy’s chest. She had unknowingly placed them there for support, but now she pulled them away in fright.
“Hey. Are you okay?” he asked her again, and Margie managed to nod this time. She watched tongue-tied as he bent forward to pick up her bag from the floor and then stretched out his arm towards her. She noticed the way the muscles on his arms, peeping out from underneath the cotton half-sleeves of his T-shirt, flexed. She had never seen him this close before.
“Is the library still open?” he asked, seemingly unaware of the physical effect he had on Margie. She couldn’t find her voice, her throat had closed up. She shook her head while watching him, studying him closely so she could embed that image of him in her brain. The sharp clean jaw, thick pink lips, the way his chocolate-brown hair fell over his forehead and eyelashes.
“Aw, damn!” Lance cursed some more, his hands flying to his hair. He was running his fingers through it and Margie could feel herself going weak in the knees.
“Why? What do you need?” she heard herself ask, surprising even herself by the sudden voice she had found. Lance looked at her, his large green eyes focusing on her face as he spoke.
“I needed some books for a test. I’m so not prepared for it.” He dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“The economics test coming up next week?” Margie asked, in a low squeaky voice, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. She couldn’t look at him directly; her gaze kept falling to the ground.
“Yeah, exactly. Are you in my class?” Lance’s eyes lit up and Margie blushed. She was instantly embarrassed by the fact that he didn’t even know she existed. She nodded nonetheless and he stretched out his hand again.
“Lance,” he said, with a grin that showed his straight line of perfectly white teeth.
“Margie,” she said, blushing a bright red. She shook his hand nervously, noticing his grip, which was strong and tight. His hands felt rough and soft at the same time, sending tingles down her spine. She nearly giggled.
“Hi, Margie. I’m such a doofus. I don’t know what I’m going to do for the test.” Lance was grinning still as he shook her hand. He was the one who eventually pulled his hand away. Margie didn’t know when to stop shaking it. She knew she was blushing still.
“I have a few books here with me if you want to borrow them?” She started unzipping her bag and pulling out some of the books, which she already knew by heart. She started handing them over to Lance one at a time. He was laughing.
“You just carry these books around in your backpack all day?” he asked, and Margie blushed again. She wasn’t sure if he was making fun of her or just being friendly. He didn’t sound unfriendly, which was a very strange experience for her. Usually, Lance Healy, when he wasn’t winning football games for the college team, was attending frat parties and missing classes. It was no surprise that he didn't know who she was.
“So, you seem to be well prepared for the test already,” he added, cluelessly looking through the pages of some of the books in his hands. Margie was smiling silently at him, her confidence in looking at him directly growing.
“I’ve been studying for it for a while now,” she said, noticing now the way the thin material of his T-shirt stretched across the vast expanse of his chest. She couldn’t believe she had touched it. Lance Healy’s chest!
“Jeez. I haven’t even started yet. Do you mind if I borrow some of these books?” he asked, and Margie nodded.
“Go ahead. I don’t need them anymore. You can keep them for as long as you like.” She was smiling widely, still in a sort of daze.
“I wouldn’t know where to start. But thanks anyway,” he said, staring blankly at the books in his hands. Margie hesitated before she said anything, looking for the right words. Her fingers kept knotting themselves together, and she could feel her stomach churning. She had to get it right.
“I could help you out if you like. With the tutoring. I mean, I could help you to get started. To study. For the test.” She wasn’t sure what she was saying, or if any of it even made sense. But the look of confusion on Lance’s face gave way to delight. His face lit up again, the same boyish grin returning. How could his face possibly be this perfect?
“That’ll be great, Margie. Are you sure you have the time?” He had a polite, courteous voice and Margie could feel her knees going weak. She had never expected to speak to Lance, let alone for him to speak to her this way. She bit down on her lip and nodded again.
“Of course, yes sure. We can get started whenever you want.” Margie could feel herself bursting to giggle again. She had to take short, quick, deep breaths to calm herself whenever he looked away from her.
“Tomorrow? This looks like I have a lot of catching up to do.” Lance sighed, looking back at the books, but smiled at her nonetheless.
“Cool. We can meet in the library tomorrow at five?” Her mind was racing as she spoke. She couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Whatever the instigation behind him planning on meeting her the next day, there were plans being made! How many girls would kill to be in her position?
“That sounds good to me. Tomorrow at five.” Lance stretched the books back towards her and Margie stared at them, confused.
“Trust me. I won’t be flipping through one page by myself. They’re better left with you. You are responsible for my tutoring now,” he said with a wink, and Margie couldn’t help it anymore. She laughed loudly, a sharp, loud giggle. She couldn’t believe any of it. That he had told her she was responsible for him. That he had winked. That they had plans to meet the next day.
“Wow. You have an interesting laugh,” Lance said and grinned at her again. Margie instantly felt self-conscious at that. She covered her mouth with a hand and used the other to take back the books from him.
“Sorry. Yes, I’ll keep them safe for you,” she said.
“Until tomorrow,” Lance added, and she stared back at him, a little shocked. The information still hadn’t sunk in.
“Bye, Margie,” he said suddenly and interrupted her thoughts. She was dumbfounded again.
“Erm…bye,” she managed to squeak, as Lance began to walk away. He winked at her again, threw her a grin and then pushed open the doors and walked out.
Margie remained standing where she was, blinking at the closed doors in front of her and still clutching the books in her hands. What had just happened? Did she just secure a date with the hottest guy in college? Did he wink at her? Twice?!
She hurriedly put the books back in her bag and ran out of the building. He wasn’t anywhere in sight. It had started to grow dark, and Margie rushed towards her dorm building.
She’d forgotten about dinner, didn’t care about the fact that she had barely eaten anything that day. She needed some time and space to wrap all of this around her brain.
When she entered her room, her roommate Claire was sitting on her bed painting her toenails.
“Claire! You will not believe what just happened!” Margie flung her backpack on her own bed and sat down with a thump at the end of Claire’s bed.
“What? Did you ace your test? That isn’t a surprise, Margie.” Claire hadn’t looked up at her yet.
“The test isn’t until next week. So, no. Lance Healy wants me to tutor him for the test.” Margie clapped her hands and that was when Claire looked up. Her brows were creased, and she looked confused.
“Lance, like the Lance Healy?” Claire had stopped coating her toenails with polish.
“The one and only. I bumped into him in the library. He needs help with the preparation.” Margie bit down on her lip, the excitement on her face plain to see.
“Are you serious? What was Lance Healy doing in a library? How does he even know where the library is?” Claire tightened the cap on the bottle of polish and set it aside. She didn’t seem to be as excited as Margie was.
“He needed books for the test. Anyway, how crazy is this? I’m meeting him tomorrow at five,” Margie said, and finally Claire smiled.
“So you have, like, a date with Lance Healy?” Claire raised her eyebrows and Margie rolled her eyes.
“Hardly a date, Claire. We’re just going to be discussing economics and I’ll try and help him pass the test.” Margie stood up from the bed and started pacing the floor, her hands behind her back. She couldn’t sit down, but she didn’t want to remain standing. Her heart was still racing.
“Why are you panicking then?” Claire asked, following Margie around the room with her eyes.
“Because it’s Lance Healy? I can’t spend two minutes in his presence without breaking into giggles. He has the most beautiful eyes. Also, he’s very polite.” Margie was talking more to herself than Claire.
“That’s because he wants something, Margie. When have you ever seen Lance Healy being polite to anybody?” Claire was rolling her eyes and Margie stopped in her tracks to study her friend.
“When have we ever spoken to him, to know what he’s like in person?” Margie asked, placing her hands on her hips.
“Exactly. And you’re speaking to him now because he wants something,” Claire said, sitting back on her bed.
“I offered him the help. He didn’t ask for it.” Margie crossed her arms on her chest now. She couldn’t understand why Claire wasn’t more excited. She knew exactly how Margie felt about him. He was her on-campus celebrity crush and this was going to be just a harmless experience.
“All I’m saying is that Lance Healy is a certain type of boy. And you’re a naïve, inexperienced girl who could really get hurt by him.” Claire spoke softly, like she was talking to a child and trying to explain why Margie couldn’t have candy.
“Are you serious? I’m an adult, Claire. I can take care of myself full well.” Margie raised her voice slightly, and then turned on her heels and left the room. She needed to go for a walk, alone, if she was going to be able to calm herself down.