As we walk out of the only class we have together this semester, Scarlett sighs in relief. “I’m so glad that’s over,” First Aid and CPR is a class we are required to take since we’re both going into education. Today we had to practice performing CPR on these creepy looking manikins while the teacher gave us pointers and corrected our positioning.

“I know,” I agree. “I’m just glad we were able to pick our own partners. Can you imagine how mortifying it would have been to be partnered up with one of the guys in class?” Just the thought of being paired with a random guy while basically making out with a plastic doll makes me cringe.

Scarlett shrugs. “I dunno, being partnered with a guy could have been fun.” When I look at her in disbelief, she clarifies, “Well, it would have been fun if that Chris guy from my English class was my partner.” She stops talking as we walk into The Handy Bean; a place lots of college students use to get their caffeine fix instead of venturing closer to downtown for the trendier, more expensive option. Plus, the place gives a twenty-five percent discount if you show your college ID card.

Because first aid is an early morning class, the shop isn’t as busy as it will be in an hour. Anyone who doesn’t have an eight a.m. class is probably either still asleep, or just getting up. Even so, there is a line, so Scarlett goes to place our orders while I head for a seat far enough from the entrance to avoid the rush of cold air that comes in whenever it opens.

I put my bag in one of the empty seats and grab my phone to play a game while I wait for her. A couple texts are waiting on the screen, all from Clay, that came in between last night and this morning. I’ve been careful not to so much as look at my phone since he sent a message asking if we could talk not even twenty-four hours after the-kiss-that-shall-not-be-acknowledged. I’m still avoiding him after what happened the other night. I can’t believe he kissed me. Mustering up all the courage I have, I tap the screen to open the conversation

The first was sent last night, the one that made me avoid my phone.

The second came in at not even six this morning.

Then, one not quite an hour ago.

And finally, a group sent ten minutes ago, right at the end of class, and they make me thankful the CPR instructor let us out a few minutes early. Otherwise, he would have been waiting on me.

A shadow suddenly looms over me, and I tense. Crap. Clay found me. I turn slowly and breathe a sigh of relief when I see that the person standing behind me isn’t Clay at all. It’s Aaron, a guy from my last class.

“Hey,” he says in a deep voice, smiling down at me. Maybe it’s just because I’m sitting, but he’s tall. Like, a couple of inches taller than Clay, tall. I realize that I’ve seen him before. In fact, I saw him the other night sitting at the same table in the dining hall as Clay, Max and Wyatt, and again at the basketball game.

I realize I’m just staring at him like an idiot and manage to stutter out, “H-h-hey.”

“Is this seat taken?” He gestures towards the empty seat closest to me. I shake my head, and he sits, placing his drink on the table and grinning over at me. “It’s a good thing we learned CPR today,” he says casually.

My lips turn down in a frown, and my brows furrow as I try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Huh?”

He repeats his words with a laugh, ending with, “because you take my breath away.”

I roll my eyes but laugh. “Please tell me that’s not the best line you have.”

Aaron chuckles. “No. Trust me, I have way better lines than that. I just wanted to see you smile.” My face heats with a blush. Wow. That was actually pretty smooth. I look away, tucking my hair behind one ear. He laughs louder, and I look back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. You’re pretty when you blush; you know that?” I shake my head, but I don’t know if it’s in denial or disbelief. Aaron takes it as denial, and reassures me. “I mean it.” He reaches out a hand like he’s going to cup my cheek, but drops it. “I should probably introduce myself. I’m Aaron.”

“I know who you are.” His head tilts in question, so I explain. “You’re on the basketball team with Wyatt Parker. I’m friends with his fiancé.”

Face clearing, he looks a little relieved. “Cool.” He looks around the coffee shop before returning his attention to me to say, “Anyway, I came over to ask you a question.”

“Oh?”

Drumming his fingers on the tabletop, he clears his throat, appearing to gather his thoughts before he says, “I’ve been watching you in class.” My back goes straight, and I lean away from him. Um, okay. That’s a little creepy. “Shit,” he mutters, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, similar to the way Clay does when he’s uncomfortable or embarrassed. “That didn’t come out right.” I relax a little, glad he realizes he just sounded like a stalker, but his next words freak me out even more. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while.” I feel bad, because aside from the other night in the dining hall, I’d never seen him before.

I try to think of something to say, but he continues on, almost like he just wants to get it over with. “I think you’re beautiful. Will you have dinner with me? This Friday maybe?” He looks so hopeful; I don’t know how to turn him down without being a bitch about it. Besides, it’s not like anyone else is asking me out, and he’s kinda cute. Maybe not Clay’s level of hot, but attractive nonetheless. Of course, going on a date with him because he’s “cute” isn’t the best reason to go out with someone, but who knows? Maybe he’ll grow on me.

“Yeah, okay.” His lips twist at my less than enthusiastic agreement, so I smile at him and try again. “I’d love to go out with you. Friday sounds perfect.”

His smile spreads across his face to show his teeth. “Cool,” he says again, and I smile in return. Taking out his phone, he types something in, then asks, “What’s your number? I’ll text you later to set up a time. I hafta get to class.”

Well, okay then. The abruptness of his give me your number so I can go attitude makes me blink, but I recite my number anyway. He enters it into his phone before texting me so I have his number, then stands. “See you Friday.” I don’t get a chance to reply, or even blink, before he’s gone.

A coffee cup is set down in front of me, and I turn to see Scarlett sit down across from me. “There should really be another coffee place to go close by,” she complains. “Even when it’s early this place is crazy busy.”

I make a non-committal noise. The fact that the cafe is busy doesn’t normally bother me unless there’s no place to sit. But, even then, we’re not far from our dorm, so I can just take my coffee and go.

Scarlet takes my non-answer as a sign of agreement and keeps complaining. I tune her out, still wondering why on earth Aaron, a guy who’s never uttered even one word to me before, would suddenly be so interested in me. “Hey!”

Scarlett’s loud voice breaks into my thoughts, and I raise my head to look at her. “Huh?”

“I said, what’s with the look on your face?” she asks, studying me as she takes a sip of her hot coffee.

I look down, studying the cup between my hands like it holds the answer to all my questions. When it gives me nothing, I look back up at her. “Nothing really, just a weird conversation with a guy from class.”

Scarlett leans forward, placing her cup down on the table so she can focus on me. “Oh? Who?”

“His name is Aaron; he plays basketball with Wyatt. He sat down, told me he’s been watching me in class and asked me out for this Friday.” She claps her hands and grins with glee, but her smile falls a little when I tell her, “Then, he got my number and just left.”

Her expression turns thoughtful, lips pursing for a second before she says, “Huh. That is weird.” Then, her face brightens and she squeals, grabbing my hands. “But, still! You have a date! With an actual guy! That’s so awesome.”

I start to reply, but the seat Aaron was sitting in is suddenly occupied … by Clay. Scarlett’s eyes go wide, and when I turn to him, I understand why. His face is flushed, and he looks pissed. Crap. I open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but the look that passes through his eyes gives me pause.

“I need to talk to Kat,” he tells Scarlett, not even asking me what I want. Her mouth drops open a little, but she doesn’t put up a fight.

With a shrug, she says, “Okay,” drawing the word out like she’s waiting for him to explain, but he just glares. Grabbing her bag, she mouths, Call me, and disappears. I turn back to Clay, but the stormy expression on his face makes me feel like I’ve just swallowed my tongue. I can’t say anything, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m terrified of this side of him, or because the dark look on his face makes me squirmy.