Digital Studios is quickly becoming my favorite and least favorite class. Tristan stands by my side as we dissect a camera from yesteryear while the professor explains the marvels of technological advances.

So you weren’t telling the truth? Tristan signs in lieu of what the professor is saying. I guess that’s the advantage of signing. We can have a conversation regarding just about anything right here in the open. That was just some random dude?

I smile up at him. It took Tristan a few good hours to work up the nerve to go there, the least I can do is give him the truth. I wonder what my brothers would think if I dated someone like Tristan? Not that I’m dating Blake. I hardly know the guy. I can, however, attest to the fact he’s got a chest made of steel and a grip of iron when it comes to saving a damsel in distress. A wry smile creeps up my lips. I happen to have an aversion to weak heroines—at least when I read. And here I’ve inadvertently become one in my own story. The thought makes me want to vomit. I’m not weak. In no way am I a damsel in distress. Yesterday was just a fluke. Blake just so happened to be there when I needed him. My stomach explodes with heat as if letting me in on some deep, dark secret. I glance down. I get it. I’m hungry for Blake on a psychological—correction, sexual level. Well, too bad. That’s not what I signed up for this semester. I’m at Whitney Briggs to get an education, not a broken heart.

He’s not my anything, I sign. He’s more like a stalker. I wince because, for one, I’m totally joking. I met him yesterday morning, and it’s just a fluke that he’s the lead singer of the 12 Deadly Sins. My brothers and I own the Black Bear, so I sort of had to be there.

Sort of had to be there? My lips twitch at how defensive I came across. So what if Tristan knows I’ve got the hots for the guy? My body flares with heat. God. I try to get my bearings. I do not have the hots for anybody. That’s Kaya’s territory. I’m calm and rational, and the first to point out that lust is the hotbed in which STDs breed.

Oh, so that little get together afterwards was just a business meeting, huh? He teases.

Sort of. My brothers and their Hulk-like aggression floods back to the forefront. I don’t know. I don’t think I’m quite ready for a relationship just yet. How about you? I glance to the curvy, toothy Johanna and her glittery friend Courtney who haven’t stopped their lips from moving since they set foot into the classroom. I’ve seen the way Johanna has been sending open invites to Tristan and to just about every other guy in the class including the professor. I think there are a few people in this very room that might be ready to have a relationship with you. I glance back at Johanna, and she turns quickly pretending not to see. It’s fine. I’m used to it. For some reason being deaf has effectively been a cloak of invisibility. When the world doesn’t know how to classify you, it renders you invisible. It’s not just like that for me, so I try not to take it personally.

Tristan waves his hand over my face. “I’m not interested in those girls,” he says the words extra slow, so I know he’s mouthing them. “They’re too easy.” His eyes lock onto mine as he gives a depleted smile. “I like a little more of a challenge.”

My face floods with heat. Trust me, I’m not the challenge you’re looking for.

He shrugs. “We’ll see.”

Blake comes to mind. I wasn’t really planning to be a challenge for him. Too bad my brothers are panning out to be just that.

---

For the next two days, I avoid Bryson and Holt and all of the apologetic messages they’ve inundated my phone with.

The thick and heavenly scent of coffee lights up my senses as I collect my cup from the barista at Hallowed Grounds. Baya and Izzy have cornered me at the student café, so I don’t really see a way around this conversation.

Why are we doing this again?

I type into my phone. You’re both very sweet, but remember I’m a girl just like you. Did you let anyone stand in the way of seeing my brothers? Not that I plan on seeing Blake, but it’s the principle involved. Soon I’ll be sleeping with him just to prove a point.

Baya’s lips take on all sorts of interesting shapes. “They want you to be happy. But they also just want the best for you.”

Izzy types into her phone with frustration. She’s not as open to me reading her lips as Baya. I think she’s afraid I’ll miss something. It’s hard for them to imagine their sweet little sister dating anyone. And, in their defense, he had on guyliner. Izzy is quick to add.

“And tattoos.” Baya nods. “Of a skull on his bicep.” She points to her arm as if the location itself had horrible implications.

Geez, you’d think he were a serial killer in training the way they’re going on about him.

I’ve yet to see it. You do realize that both Bry and Holt are covered in tats. I’m thinking about getting one myself. Not really but they’re pushing me in that direction. Right after I sleep with the guyliner, tat sporting person in question.

“Annie, no!” Baya smacks herself over the forehead as if I just threated to let a rat gnaw off my arm. On second thought, Bryson and Holt might prefer it. “You realize you’re going to kill your brothers.”

I let out a silent laugh before typing into my phone. Trust me, that’s not the plan. Anyway, I really appreciate the two of you going to bat for my big bro’s. I get it. They love me. Don’t worry, I haven’t seen the tattooed, guyliner wearing bad boy since the big shakedown, so you can tell them they did their job. He’s steering clear, and so am I. Graduation will come and go with my virginity still intact. No worries here.

Izzy bites down over her lips so hard I’m afraid she’s going splatter me with blood. “He’ll be at the Black Bear tonight.”

Baya smacks her before softening toward me. “He’s already come by asking about you—twice.” She holds up two fingers and gives a meek shrug. “And he didn’t have any guyliner on either time. He has very nice eyes, by the way.”

My entire body heats at the thought of those marbled eyes that look like a maple in the spring.

Are you really into this guy? Izzy looks almost sorry for me. I think we all know I’m doomed on some level when it comes to Blake and those gorgeous eyes.

I shake my head. I guess I wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little better. He seems pretty nice. Guyliner and all.

“What about that tutor of yours?” Baya wags her straw at me. “Frenchie? Ooh la la.”

I roll my eyes at the thought. Tristan is very nice but definitely not for me.

“How do you know he’s not for you?” she teases. Baya has enough bubbly personality to outfit an entire sorority house.

Because I just don’t feel anything. You know—that special spark just isn’t there. Like ever. And God knows I’ve tested the waters. I had to. How else would I know that Blake is the only one capable of delivering that electrifying bodily response?

They both sag, nodding in unison.

“And with Mr. Guyliner?” Baya is probing for the exact answer my brothers dread to hear. “Are you feeling that spark with him?” She says that last part extra slow.

A familiar leather jacket catches my attention near the door, and I can’t take my eyes off it. He’s here! I shrink a little in my seat, but his wide grin finds me and warms me from head to toe.

Baya gently kicks my foot to get my attention. “Guess who’s got a spark in her eyes?” She’s giggling, and I’m hoping it’s low key because, quite frankly, she’s embarrassing me to the point of bursting into flames. My entire body is ready to go up like a parched hillside.

Blake comes up, breathless, his chest expanding and retracting at a quickened rate, but it’s his eyes that command my undivided attention. This is usually the part where I’d write out something witty or sarcastic, but all I can manage is a little wave.

Izzy and Baya stand simultaneously. He says something to them, but I only catch half. Both Izzy and Baya wave as they head toward the door. Baya motions for me to call her.

God, my brothers are going to die when they hear of this. Never mind that. They’ll appear like apparitions and Blake will die at their not-so ghostly hands.

He flashes his phone at me. Do you want to go for a drive?

“I’d love to.” I mouth the words with glee.

---

Blake Daniels drives a truck much like both of my brothers, so already I feel at home with him, but, despite that, there’s something about him in general that makes me feel comfortable. With Tristan I want to erect a wall between us, and with Blake I want to tear it down, entomb him inside our own private city.

We drive through long stretches of Hollow Brook in all its fall glory with leaves already steeped in shades of gold and fiery auburns. I dip my hand in my purse and sag dejected a moment. It’s so rare that I leave the dorm without my camera, but I was in such a hurry to get out the door this afternoon. Marley had her longtime boyfriend, William, stop by. He’s attending school in Virginia and drove down for the long weekend. They didn’t seem to have any problem giving an expressive display of affection while I was in the room with them. Prior to his arrival, Marley shared an entire sexual list of demands she plans on giving Will this weekend. She claims it’s all in the name of research for her upcoming articles—wink, wink. She also showed me a pair of velvet handcuffs she plans on gifting him—utilizing, both. I have a feeling I’ll need to sanitize the room with a hot mop and bleach once he leaves. The thought of someone having sex in what amounts to my bedroom weirds me out a bit. But I’ll admit it made me feel like I was missing something in my life. The way Marley continually speaks of him makes it feel as if I’ve known William for ages. William is tall, on the basketball team for good reason, sinewy like a biker, and has a squared-off face and wire rimmed glasses. He’s undeniably handsome with his sharp almond eyes, but something about the way his gaze lingers on the girls in the common room doesn’t sit well with me.

Blake drives us up a narrow path that extends past the Witch’s Cauldron, past the narrow river that Baya almost drowned in last year, and a mean shiver runs through me when I see it. I can’t imagine how scary that must have been for her. Being submerged in icy waters, floating downstream like a twig. The girl who pushed her in, some idiot named Aubree, is sitting in Danbury prison right now. Laney keeps referring to it as camp cupcake.

Blake drives up what feels like a sheer cliff side until we hit a clearing, and he finds a bare spot to park the truck. He hops out and helps me down, taking my hand and not letting go. It’s freezing out—like North Pole freezing—like the Ice Bar freezing, but I suppose that’s to be expected when you’re at the highest peak in a fifty-mile radius. The Ice Bar is one of the three bars my brothers and I took over from my father. It’s my least favorite for the very reason I hate being cold, but somehow being cold with Blake doesn’t seem so bad. His fingers fold over mine, warm and assuring, but mostly strong, and I marvel at their girth. I have to admit it took my breath away that first night he took me by the hand when we crossed the street. I’m plenty used to people treating me like a child, but somehow that made me feel anything but childlike. In a strange way, it felt like he was treating me like a woman.

I pull out my phone. You don’t have to hold my hand. I promise I won’t run away. After I show him the text it occurs to me that sarcasm doesn’t translate so well in the written form. Great. Now he’s going to think I’m repulsed by him. Good going.

His head inches back as he holds in a laugh. “You’re funny.” He pulls the stray hairs from my eyes. “And beautiful.” The moment grows all too serious. Blake carefully lays my hand by my side again as he taps something into his phone. But I wasn’t holding onto you because I thought you might run away. He licks his lips looking past me a moment unable to finish his thought.

I’ve never had a boy tell me how they feel before, not that I expect any feelings from someone I’ve known less than a week.

The phone shakes as I hold it to him. I don’t know why I said that. I like it. I like holding your hand. His brows furrow as if this confused him on some level. I fumble with my phone. I’m guessing you usually bypass the handholding phase. My lips curve to the side. I get it. And, for the record, I am not on that playing field. Sorry to disappoint you. Holding hands is about as racy as this girl gets.

He lets out a laugh so loud it vibrates over me like a ray of sunlight in this icy terrain. Blake has perfect teeth, a clean smile with no flaws. He could be in a dental ad with that radiant grin, those stunning green eyes. He’s going to make some girl very happy someday, and my heart sinks to my feet because I very much doubt it will be me.

So you’ve never been kissed? He slings his arm around my shoulders as we walk over to the lookout.

I shake my head. That’s about as far as I go with that answer. There’s no way I’m committing that to an electronic device. Deleting it just wouldn’t be enough.

We walk to the edge, and the breath is knocked right out of me. I press my hand to my chest at the majesty of what lies beneath us. All of Hollow Brook, all of Jepson, sprawls out before us like a miniature Dickens village at Christmas. Blake points to the left at the endless fields of birch and maples, the oaks in all their yellow and orange fury. The earth is crowned with their glory. It’s beautiful. I couldn’t have asked for a more spectacular view.

This is amazing. Thank you for sharing this with me.

His eyes smile first. His lips are slow to follow. “You’re welcome.” The warmth of his body against mine enlivens the entire left side of me as his subtle cologne tingles my senses.

I type into my phone hoping he won’t notice the fact I’m shaking from his touch. I feel like a fool for leaving my camera behind today. This would have made for some amazing shots.

“We’ll come back.” Blake steps in front of me as his arms find a home around my waist, and every last cell in my body begs to detonate. “A lot.”

A fire rips through me when he says the word we. I’m sure it means very little but something about there being a “we” makes me giddy and frightened all at the same time.

My heart pulsates like a jackrabbit about to have its ears lopped off, and I sway on my feet at the thought of Blake coming in for a kiss. I wouldn’t fight it. Bryson and Holt blink through my mind, and I bat them away like rabid dogs. Down brothers. This one is mine.

Blake picks up a stray evergreen branch and dusts off the bench behind us. We take a seat facing one another as the icy breeze slices through our clothes. The wind sweeps back his thick, dark hair, and his open face smiles wide at me. He is unmistakably gorgeous. Blake Daniels is a god among men, and he’s all but hauled me to his mountaintop to ravage me with those amber eyes, his devil-is-in-the-details grin. Okay, so there’s a slim chance of ravishing, but a girl can dream.

Blake penetrates me with his gaze. He’s seeing me, really seeing me. I glance down, embarrassed by the moment. I’m not sure how he feels about all this silence. To me it’s normal, comforting on some level, but to someone like him, someone surrounded by girls, by loud music, and who knows what else, I’m sure it’s heavy as the forest behind him. As soothing as silence can be, it can be deafeningly loud, and the irony isn’t lost on me.

Blake tucks his finger under my chin and gently lifts my face until I’m looking right at him again.

“What are you thinking?”

A small moan vibrates in my throat, and I secretly hate he got that out of me. Just watching his mouth move, the way his lips curve over every letter makes me fall that much deeper into this strange abyss.

“It’s silly,” I mouth.

“I promise not to laugh.”

I click into my phone. I was just wondering if all this awkward silence was strange to you. You know, uncomfortable. I swallow hard waiting for his reply. I don’t ever remember having a conversation like this with anyone before, except maybe Marley after we moved in together, and that ended in a laugh fest. But nothing about this feels funny. It feels deathly serious, and it scares me in a new way. It’s as if so much more rode on his answer than simply his discomfort.

“Not at all.” He leans in, his eyes still seared over mine. Blake scoots in until I can feel the warmth of his body, and his head edges ever so close to mine. “Tell me about those books you read.”

I swallow hard, my heart knocking against my chest as if it wants to be let out.

Shit. I thought that was it. That the big one was coming, and I was finally going to test out exactly how soft Blake’s lips were at last.

“The books?” I mouth. Okay, I’ll admit he threw me for a loop. What do you want to know?

I went to the library and looked into a few romance novels. His smile defuses as he holds out his phone. They weren’t as sweet and innocent as I thought they would be.

My chest bucks with a laugh as I bury my face in my hands. I come up for air, and he tweaks his brows seductively. They’re dark and broad, and I want nothing more than to trace them out with my finger. As wild as some of the novels I’ve read are, I’m sure Blake has lived out ten times that much and more. Just the thought makes me uneasy.

He makes a face into his phone before showing me. For a girl who’s never been kissed, that’s some pretty serious stuff.

Maybe, but a girl has to start somewhere. I reply as quick as my fingers will let me. In all reality I’m off to a pretty slow start. Even Kaya, my lifelong, tied to the hip, best friend has done the deed with her longtime boyfriend. But in Kaya’s defense they were in love, and he was tired of waiting. They broke up three months later. And that, right there, is my worst nightmare in a nutshell—giving it away to someone who is willing to forget you just three months later.

“You might want to pace yourself when it comes to reality.” He motions to his lips and shrugs as if asking if I understood. I offer a quick thumbs up before responding.

Why do you care if I pace myself? I offer a challenging smile. Do you pace yourself?

Blake gives a long blink because we both know I’ve caught him red handed. Blake Daniels isn’t the pacing type, and he all but admitted it. The wind settles a moment, and the trees stop swaying in the breeze long enough to create a dark, emerald backdrop to Blake’s errant good looks. It’s safe to say Blake doesn’t need to pace himself when it comes to girls. He can travel as fast as he wants—he most likely does.

“I’m not you. I’m not good at pacing myself. And, trust me, you don’t want to be me.” He blows out a breath as he looks to the horizon. Blake pulls out his phone again. After my brother died I sort of slowed down. The guys in the band like to call the girls who flock the stage ‘rock candy.’ Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of rock candy.

Rock candy? As in groupies? Sounds tasty. And slightly sexist but that doesn’t seem to bother me.

“Yes, groupies.” He reaches over and wraps his fingers through my hair a moment before letting it fall to my shoulder. My knees go weak at the simple action, and my heart starts to hammer in my chest again. A part of me wants to tell him he’s already got those romance novels beat, but I don’t dare boost his ego. Yet. “And I promise it’s nothing to be intrigued about.”

Yeah? What if I wanted to be one of those rock candy girls?

His smile digs in deep and devious, a hint of lust in his eyes that makes me want to figure out how to turn it up like the heat of a dangerous fire.

“I think you’re better off being you.” His features dim to pitch like a candle the wind just blew out.

What’s wrong? I scoot in close, and now it’s me running my fingers through his hair. It’s softer than I imagined, thicker, and slick enough to make me glide right through it.

Blake leans back with a perplexed expression that lets me know he doesn’t quite know how to put it into words. I guess I’m not rock candy material. Not that I find this revelation shocking, but it does make me wonder what he’s doing with me.

“Sorry.” I mouth as I pull my fingers from his neck.

“No, it isn’t that.” He covers my hand with his and warms it against his chest before hitting his phone. It’s just—it makes me sad that you weren’t able to hear the music.

I sag into him with a tired grin before jotting down a note. Is that how you cast your spell on all those unsuspecting girls? The truth is, I didn’t need to hear anything last night. I was already under his spell from the moment he pinned me to that bush. It would figure. I’m probably the only girl on the planet who could find herself in the bushes with a gorgeous boy and have it be totally chaste. My brothers should be proud. I’m the hero of virgins everywhere.

He belts out a laugh, and I can feel his body shaking with joy.

“No, I promise that’s not it.” He lets go to type into his cellphone. But if I told you my secrets, things might get dicey up here, and for sure your brothers would want to kill me.

Fair enough. Maybe you can lend me the lyric sheets to some of your songs? I would love to know what you’re singing up there.

He smiles into the phone. Done.

The sun starts to dip into the horizon, and he motions for us to head to the overlook one more time. Blake puts his arm around my shoulder once again, and it feels natural, not at all intrusive. If Tristan were bold enough to try it, I might be moved to fling him over the side of the mountain myself. But, with Blake, I find myself leaning in closer, yearning for the heat from his body to keep me warm. I want to take it all in—all of him. My face turns toward his as I inhale his fresh, soapy scent, the mint streaming from his breath. Blake turns just enough, and our noses almost touch. My stomach stings in a wild pang of heat. A chill runs through me from head to toe, and I feel light headed and euphoric all at the same time. His gorgeous eyes bear into mine, and no matter how much my stomach demands to drop to middle earth, I can’t look away. My heart rattles out a threat, and, right about now, I don’t care if it leaps from my throat.

“Are you going to let me kiss you?” he says the words slowly, and I have to laugh because I realize he desperately wanted me to understand them.

I shake my head.

“Why not?” He winces, genuinely perplexed. I’m pretty sure Blake Daniels isn’t too familiar with the word no.

I pull back and dive into my phone just trying to get my bearings. Because I hardly know you. You’re a perfect stranger, remember? I try to ignore the fact this perfect stranger has his arm wrapped around my shoulder.

He motions for my phone, and I slip it into his hand. You drove here with me—alone. Blake holds back the grin blooming on his face. If anything I’ve amused him.

I take my phone. I never said I was smart.

“You’re smart.” Blake runs his hand through my hair before typing again. You want it to be special—with the right person—memorable.

Which romance novel taught you that? I ask, trying desperately not to flirt. But I’m flirting, and I don’t care how desperate it comes across.

“This one.” He tucks his fingers to his heart. “I want that for you, too.”

A breath hitches in my throat. Blake wants that for me, too. I float in his words as we watch the sun set in a show of pink and gold until the sky bursts to life in a rich shade of amber.

We drive back to campus in a comfortable silence.

If he asked for that kiss a second time, I would have given it to him.