“I…” My voice dried up, and I got lost in those dark eyes of hers. At least three different shades of brown, they had a depth I hadn’t been prepared for.
Brownie batter eyes filled with both humor and embarrassment stared back at me. She was stunning, sunrise-stunning in a girl next door kind of way. But it was her t-shirt that finally snapped me out of the stupor where I’d forgotten how to form words.
“Cool shirt,” I blurted out way too loudly for how close we were.
She glanced down at the yellow and white Weyland-Yutani Corp logo on the black shirt and tugged it away from her chest. “You’re a big Aliens fan?”
Freckles dotted the bridge of her nose, and some traveled up the center with a sprinkling on her forehead.
“I’ve seen it at least five times this semester already.”
“Isn’t today move-in day?”
“I got here earlier.” I kept it vague. No need to pull out the football player card already. “And who isn’t an Aliens franchise fan?”
Her hands rested on her thighs, just above where her jeans were ripped at the knees. “Five-year-old me. I couldn’t sleep for a month after accidentally watching it one day on TV.”
“Same.” I cringed internally. Again with the blurting. Girls love guys who are piss themselves scared of movies, even if I was six at the time.
She jutted her chin out toward the box that got more mysterious by the second and sighed. “Were you mentioning something about helping?” She chewed on the corner of her bottom lip. “But you have to promise me you won’t make fun of me.”
I nodded, ready to shout, what’s in the box?
“Promise.” She held up her little finger.
Confusion crackled through me. “A pinkie promise?”
Her finger hovered in front of my face.
“Don’t think I’ve made one of those in a long time.”
Her lips scrunched right along with her nose. “The eternal bond of pinkie promises still stands.”
I hooked my pinkie around hers and flushed at the brush of her skin against mine. “It’s my fault your stuff fell in the first place. I promise.”
Her smile brightened her whole face and made me forget half the aches that still needed nursing from practice. “We should probably get to it.” Her gaze dropped back to our intertwined fingers. “I’m sure you’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Right.” I pulled my hand back and ripped my focus away.
She stepped out of the way and rolled the box over fully. A tinkling sound like a plastic waterfall accompanied the movement. Between the curb and the sidewalk, a rainbow slew of plastic blocks littered the grass.
“You’re into Legos.”
“Lego.” She glanced over her shoulder at the other upperclassmen moving into their dorms and brushed the pieces into a small pile.
I grabbed a handful. “This is a lot more than one.” I dumped them and a crap-ton of grass inside the box. The blades of green stuck out amongst the sharp edges of the multicolored pieces.
She dropped in another handful of pieces. “Lego is the plural of Lego, like deer and deer.” She swept her arms across the grass, gathering up more. “It’s a thing I do when I need my brain to turn off. Building helps me focus. I’m not just playing with them or anything.”
“Who gives a fuck if you like to play with Legos?” I added another handful to the box.
She stared at me, squinting in the sun over my shoulder. “Come on—if your backpack opened up in the middle of campus and a bunch of Barbie dolls fell out, you wouldn’t be the least bit embarrassed?”
“Probably, at least a little bit.” I grinned. “But they don’t make five-figure Barbie sets.”
Her lips quirked up. “How would you know?” That smile of hers could melt a guy’s heart. The heat beating down on me intensified under her teasing scrutiny. “Have you been searching for the perfect Barbie Dream Mansion?”
“Just a guess.” I’d played with action figures way too late and had gotten teased like hell for it, just missing the cusp where superheroes were a thing everyone thought was cool. “But maybe you know better than I do. What else do you have in here?” I pulled back the flap of the box.
“My toy fixation ends with Lego.” She slapped it closed. “So I can zone out for a few hours.”
I stepped back and raised my hands in mock surrender. “No harm. No foul.” My Lego building ended with—buildings. Tall, solid rectangles, nothing particularly interesting. “What are you building? Or do you just tinker?”
“The Death Star.”
“Of course, it is.”
Her eyes cut to mine, defensive and with a hint of hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
My heart lurched. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Seems fitting for a nerd.”
Her lips parted.
“And I should know. One of my best friends, Ezra, is one. He’s got everything Aliens, Predator, Dune, Terminator and more all over his bedroom. I’ve watched all of them with him. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”
“Not all nerds are the same, you know?”
“They aren’t? Guess I shouldn’t tell you he’s been coveting a Terminator T-800 Lego bust for a while now.”
She swatted my shoulder. “He has not.”
I didn’t hate the playful way she touched me. It made me want to lean in closer. “Definitely is.” I pointed at my house across the street. “My roommates and I were planning on pitching in to get it for him for Christmas since those sets are so insanely expensive.”
“I’m a fan of fandoms.”
“Is that what we’re called now?”
“We?” Her eyebrow lifted. “Outing yourself as a fellow nerd?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I thought we were called fans of fandom?”
The way her lips pursed made me want to smooth them out with a kiss. That hit me like a sideswipe to my brain. I’d known her for all of six minutes. I’d obviously been without female company for a bit too long.
We switched to picking instead of scooping to get the scattered stranglers hiding in the grass.
“Did you just move in?” I grimaced. Thanks, Captain Obvious. Not like she was moving boxes into a new apartment on move-in day. Real freaking smooth.
“It’s my first day on campus.”
“You’re a transfer?” I glanced at her before going back to picking up the last of the pieces still embedded in the lawn. Did she know about Welcome Wagon? It would only be right for her to immerse herself in her new campus.
“That’s usually how that works. I transferred from the University of Queensland.”
I was so focused on the gentle brush of her hands across the grass and imagining them over the back of my hand that it took a few beats for her response to sink in.
I popped my head up. “Like in Australia?”
“Do you know of another?” She chuckled and dropped her handful of Lego into the box.
“I’m not hearing an Australian accent.” If she came to Welcome Wagon, maybe we could hang out. I could make sure she didn’t get shitty, watered-down beer.
“I’m not an Aussie.”