His hair is artfully styled in a just fucked way, tufts sticking this way and that like he didn't put much effort into his appearance. But you can still tell he did with the minimal gel and freshly shaven face. A dark, navy blue polo shirt dons his wide chest, just tight enough to make out his rigid, corded muscles underneath. A pair of white-wash, holy jeans; worn, black leather belt; and a pair of new-looking Jordan's are strapped to his feet. His outfit is coordinated without being too matchy-matchy, and it's a damn good look on him.
Realizing that I'm basically devouring him with my eyes, I clear my throat and chastise myself, asking, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
His hands go into his pockets, and his body shuffles like he's uncomfortable or nervous. "I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner with me?"
Tilting my head, I say the first thing that comes to me. "But, I sound like a dying cow?"
My face immediately burns in embarrassment. "I, uh …" I laugh nervously.
His actions are emboldened by my confession. "Hunter Prince doesn't know what he's talking about. I think you sound lovely. Well," he replies sheepishly. "From what I've heard of you talk in class, that is."
Jenna stands silently between us, eyes wide like she's peering up at something magical. Choking on a laugh, I subtly push her out of the way and take up her spot near the door. There’s movement in the kitchen where she backtracked to, and I do a subtle glance and see that she's ... Dear baby Jesus ... Why does she insist on being so weird?
"Jenna!" I scold, watching as she immediately stops humping the kitchen island, giving me a saucy little look. She's such a pervert. Geez.
As if I didn't catch her just molesting the island, she says in an upbeat voice, "I think dinner sounds perfect! You two lovebirds go have fun."
"But I—”
"Go!" She shoos me out the door, and it's a miracle I'm able to grab my flip-flops and purse before she shuts the door on my head.
I stare at the door in complete disbelief, and Traven chuckles by my side. "So, dinner?"
"I guess I don't have a choice now, do I?" I retort without thinking.
"Ouch." He grabs the place over his heart, feigning pain.
Laughing softly under my breath, I tuck a piece of hair that's escaped my messy bun, saying, "It's not that I didn't want to go out. That paper in Mr. Erikson's class is just kicking my ass."
"You haven't finished?" He quirks a brow like it’s the most absurd thing he's ever heard. But he saves himself from my storming off when he says, "I'm here if you need help. Professor Erikson can be a bit of a stickler.”
Smiling, I nod and blush. "Thank you."
A few moments of silence pass between us, him smiling at my smiling before he snaps to and gestures for me to go in front of him. "Let's get you fed." I notice his smile lingers, and I could have sworn his eyes fell to my chest for a split second before he finishes with, "Then we'll come back here, and I can help you with your assignment."
After all the nasty things Hunter said to him, I'm surprised he's even interested. And I'm not one of those pathetic girls who volleys after someone's affections. I couldn't care less if I dated or not. All my time is spent worrying about my son and how his transition here on campus is going to be. He'll be going from seeing my dad and brother every day to seeing them once a month.
Of course, then there's the epic failure that is me not telling Hunter he has a son. While I'm too chicken shit now, because of how bad it looks, I should have pushed forward when I was a sophomore and told him about Maverick. That would have been the adult thing to do. Except, back then, I wasn't even close to being an adult. I'm only just now getting the hang of it at eighteen with a two-year-old son.
I already know the moment Hunter sees him, it's going to mean war. He won’t take it lightly that I withheld his son, and I sincerely hope he doesn't try to fight for custody because that would cut me to the quick. It's not my fault all of that happened three years ago, and if anything, I should be commended for thinking of my son and his safety, rather than having him in that situation, to begin with.
I gave up everything for Maverick, and I'll never hold that against him. He made my life better from the very first time I heard him cry. But, after giving up so much, would it hurt to try to take instead of giving? I don't necessarily have any feelings when it comes to Traven. He's handsome, don't get me wrong. Any girl would be lucky to have someone like him. However, he doesn't cause a flicker of a spark that a person should feel when they desire someone.
Maybe I should tell him. Explain there’s nothing there, but we can still be friends. But then again, maybe ... I should go with it? It has been such a long time since I've been with someone who wanted to get to know me. Shoot, forget even thinking about the last time I ate a meal with someone who wasn't a girlfriend or family member.
With that in mind, I decide to go for it. "Sure. I'd like that."
We make our way out of my building. Traven lays his hand gently on the base of my spine, and as predicted, nothing follows his touch. No shivers. No tingle of pleasure. It's as platonic as can be. And I can't stop my body from sagging in disappointment. I may not have wanted him mentally, but maybe, it would have been nice to have a physical reaction to him, so I wasn't so lonely.
Deciding the silence is stifling, I decide to try to get to know him better. Even though nothing will happen between us, a friendship can still blossom between us. "What major are you going for?"
Traven perks up at that. It could possibly be the idea of talking about himself or the fact that I'm taking an interest in him. Too early to be determined at the moment. "Business law. I'm taking my undergraduate here, then transferring to Stanford for my graduate degree. Afterward, I'll hopefully get into Harvard for law school."
"Wow! You pretty much have your whole future decided, don't you?"
He nods, and then folds his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side. I try not to tense up, but it's useless. It's been so long since I've been in a man's arms, I'm not sure how to act.
Hunter must be the only exception, right? Grumbling, I try to push him as far out of my mind as possible. He doesn't need to take up space until it's time for me to live up to my silence.
If Traven notices my discomfort, he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he tightens his hold like a possessive caveman as our trek forces us to go by the house Jenna and I partied at a few months back. To the night I did, you know what with you know who. Also, I notice that he's got a pep to his step. In high school, we'd call that his Hot Shit walk. At least, that's what Jenna and I nicknamed it.
"Sure do!" he chirps. "Hey, why don't you wrap your arm around my waist, so we don't get separated?"
Furrowing my brows in confusion, I stare blankly ahead while trying to figure out what he's doing. Because this isn't normal. Even I know that, and I'm not some girl who gets asked out on dates every day.
So, in my utter confusion, I retort with, "Separated by whom? There's no one out this time of day."
I try to come off as lighthearted, but I'm seriously getting creepy vibes from him. I wonder when that changed? He was so nice and shy when we left the apartment, attentive on the walk across campus. It wasn't until we got near that house that he started getting a little, I don't know, touchy, I guess you could say.