Wait for You

“Thank you.” I took the paper from him, somewhat shocked by the act. “That was really thoughtful.”



“Well, prepare yourself. I am all kinds of thoughtful this week. I brought you something else.”



I bit down on the edge of my pen as he rooted around and took the moment to openly gawk at him without him knowing. It really had been a long time since I held a conversation with the opposite sex that wasn’t related to me, but from all the people watching I’d done over the years, I thought I was handling this well. Besides the plowing comment, I was sort of proud of myself.



Cam pulled out a napkin and unfolded it with long fingers. “Cookie for you. Cookie for me.”



Removing the pen from my mouth, I shook my head. “You didn’t have to do that.”



“It’s just a cookie, sweetheart.”



I shook my head again, because it just didn’t make sense to me. Cam didn’t make sense to me. Hell, most people didn’t make sense to me.



He looked up through those impossibly long lashes and sighed. Tearing the napkin in half, he folded up one of the cookies and then dropped it in my lap. “I know they say you shouldn’t take candy from strangers, but it’s a cookie and not candy and technically, I’m not a stranger.”



I swallowed.



Cam took a bite of his cookie and closed his eyes. A deep sound emanated from his throat—a growl of pleasure. My heart jumped and my cheeks heated even more as I stared at him. He made the sound again, and my mouth dropped open. A row down, a girl turned in her seat, her eyes clouded over.



“Is it really that good?” I asked, glancing down at the cookie in my lap.



“Oh, yeah, this is the shit. I told you that last night. Be better if I had some milk.” He took another bite. “Mmm, milk.”



I dared another peek at him and he looked like he was on the verge of having an orgasm or something.



One eye opened. “It’s the combination of walnut and chocolate. You mix that together and it’s like an explosion of sex in your mouth, but not as messy. The only thing better would be those teeny tiny Reese’s Cups. When the dough is warm, you plop those suckers in…. Anyway, you just need to try it. Take a small bite.”



Oh, what the hell? It was just a cookie, not a crack pipe. I was being stupid. I unfolded the napkin and took a bite. The cookie practically melted in my mouth.



“Good?” Cam said. “Right?”



I took another bite and nodded.



“Well, I have a whole ton of them at home.” He stretched as he rolled up his napkin. “Just saying.”



Finishing off the cookie, I had to admit that it was a pretty damn good cookie. Wiping off my fingers, I started to roll up the napkin, but Cam reached over and took it from me. He twisted a bit in his seat, causing his knee to brush my leg.



“Crumb,” he said.



“What?”



A slight grin appeared on his face and then he reached out, without the napkin, and before I knew what he was doing, he smoothed his thumb over my bottom lip. Every single muscle in my body locked up and became painfully tense. My eyes widened and the air caught in my throat. The touch was slight, barely anything, but I felt it in several parts of my body.



“Got it.” His grin spread.



My lip still tingled. That was all I could think about. I didn’t move, not until the door at the front of the classroom opened and the strangest man I’d ever seen rolled in. Dressed head to toe in olive green polyester, the man had thick, curly hair that went in every which direction, peppered black and gray. His glasses were huge, resting on the tip of his nose. As he crossed the main stage, I noticed he was wearing a pair of checkered Vans… that matched his bow tie.



Cam chuckled softly. “Professor Drage is a very… unique man.”



“I can see,” I murmured.



Professor Drage had an accent I couldn’t quite place, but based on his olive skin tone, I was going with Mediterranean or Middle Eastern. He launched right into the topic—no roll call or warning. I scrambled to catch up to his introduction to the field of astronomy and units and measurement while Cam scooted even further down in his seat and opened his notebook. His pen was making quick, short strokes over the paper, but he wasn’t taking notes.



He was drawing.



Cocking my head to the side, I tried to focus on what the hell an astronomical unit meant, which was some crazy number I couldn’t even begin to remember. Turned out to be the average distance the Earth orbits the sun. That was important because astronomical units were used to determine most distances in our solar system, but I found myself glancing at Cam’s notebook.



What the hell was he drawing?



“Now, most of you kiddos don’t care about astronomical units or have never really heard of them,” Professor Drage went on, passing the length of the stage. “What you are familiar with is the term ‘light year.’ Although, I doubt any of you really, truly understand what a light year is.”



I was pretty sure Cam was drawing Big Foot.



The lecture went on until Professor Drage suddenly changed gears at the end, catching me and everyone else besides Cam off guard, and started passing out star maps. “I know today is only Wednesday, but here is your first assignment for the weekend. Skies are supposed to be clear as a baby’s bottom on Saturday.”



“Clear as a baby’s bottom?” I muttered.



Cam chuckled.



“I want you to find the Corona Borealis in the sky—the actual real, honest to goodness, night sky,” Professor Drage explained, smiling as if he said something funny, but we all stared at him. “You won’t need a telescope. Use your eyes or glasses or contacts or whatever. You can view it either Friday or Saturday night, but the weather is looking sketchy on Friday, so choose wisely.”



“Wait,” someone from up front said. “How do you use this map?”



Cam handed me a map that had been passed down our row, along with several grid sheets.



Professor Drage stopped in front of the class. “You look at it.”



I bit back a laugh.



The student huffed. “I get that, but do we hold up to the sky or something?”



“Sure. You could do that. Or you could just look at each of the constellations, see what they look like and then use your own eyes and brains to find it in the sky.” The Professor paused. “Or use Google. I want all of you to start to get familiar with stargazing. You’re going to be doing a lot of that this semester and you’ll appreciate doing it now when it’s warm. So get with your partner and pick out a time. The grid will be turned back into me on Monday. That’s all for the day. Good luck and may the force of the universe be with you today.”



Several students laughed, but my stomach dropped out of my butt.



“Partner?” I said, voice low as I frantically looked around the classroom. Almost everyone was turned in their seat, talking to another person. “When did we pick partners?”



“On Monday,” Cam replied, closing his notebook and shoving it into his backpack. “You weren’t here.”



My heart thumped in my chest as I scooted to the edge of the seat. Shit. Professor Drage had already bounced from the room. Half the students were already out the door.



“Avery?”



How in the hell was I supposed to get a partner now? I really shouldn’t have run like a little baby on Monday. This was all my fault.



“Avery.”



Where was the Professor’s office? I was going to have to find the dude and explain I didn’t have a partner. I bet his office smelled weird, too, like moth balls.



“Avery.”



“What?” I snapped, turning to Cam. Why was he still sitting here staring at me?



His brows rose. “We’re partners.”



“Huh?”



“We. Are. Partners,” he repeated, and then sighed. “Apparently, Drage had the class pick their partners right at the beginning of class on Monday. I walked in afterward and at the end he told me to partner with anyone who joined the class on Wednesday or I’d be partnerless. And since I don’t like the idea of being partnerless, you and I are partners.”



I stared at him. “We have a choice to do this on our own?”



“Yeah, but who wants to go out staring at the sky at night by themselves?” He stood and slung his backpack over his shoulder as he started down the row. “Anyway, I know a perfect place we can do our assignment. Has to be Saturday, because I have plans Friday.”



“Wait.” I stood, rushing after him. “I do.”



“You have plans on Saturday?” He frowned. “Well, I might—”



“No. I don’t have plans on Saturday, but we don’t have to be partners,” I explained. “I can do this by myself.”



He stopped so suddenly in front of the doors that I nearly had a repeat of Monday. “Why would you want to do all the assignments—and if you look at his class outline, there’s a lot—all by yourself?”



“Well, I don’t really want to.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the next. “But you don’t have to be my partner. I mean, you don’t owe me or anything.”



“I don’t get what you’re saying.” Cam tilted his head to the side.



“What I’m saying is that…” I trailed off. What the hell was I saying? The problem was I just didn’t get him—any of him. He didn’t know me. I didn’t know him and yet he was so… so friendly. The next words just came out of my mouth. “Why are you being so nice to me?”



A brow rose. “Is that a serious question?”



“Yes.”



He stared at me a moment. “Alright, I guess I’m just a nice guy. And you’re obviously new—a freshman. You seemed to be a little out of it on Monday and then you ran off, wouldn’t even come into class and I—”



“I don’t want your pity.” I was horrified. He was being nice to me because he thought I was a freshman freak. Oh God, that was…



Cam frowned, and I mean really frowned. “You don’t have my pity, Avery. I’m just saying you seemed out of it on Monday and I figured we’d just be partners.” He stopped and his eyes narrowed. “I can see that you don’t believe me. Maybe it was the cookie? Well, you refused to taste my cookies last night and honestly, I was going to eat the other cookie, but you looked so tired and sad sitting there, I figured you needed the cookie more than I did.”



I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but there was a distinct gleam of amusement in his eyes.



“And you’re pretty,” he added.



I blinked “What?”



That frown had faded as he opened the door, ushering me out of the class and into the hall. “Do not tell me you don’t know you’re pretty. If so, I’m about to lose all faith in mankind. You don’t want to be responsible for that.”



“I know I’m pretty—I mean, that’s not what I meant.” God, I sounded vain. I shook my head. “I don’t think I’m ugly. That’s what—”



“Good. Now we’ve cleared that up. ” Tugging on my bag, he steered me toward the stairwell. “Watch the door. It can be tricky.”