What happens when the star baseball player hits a home run into the art studio window?
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All Sadie Lane Garner needed to make herself happy was a canvas and paintbrush.
With copious projects due and little studio time, she volunteers to clean t...
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WITH MY SKETCHBOOK out, my hand involuntarily drew lines.
The lines turned into a chin, eyes, curly hair, beautiful lips... lips I almost kissed. Soon enough, I stared at a rough sketch of Elijah's face, which surprised me because I was usually horrible at portraits.
I stared for too long, lost in the memory of our last encounter, before swiping to the next blank page. It was too wet outside to spend the morning at the beach, so I resorted to the fourth floor of the library—the lounge.
"They're having a bonfire Friday after their game." Two girls near me chatted. "We are going."
"They did not invite us."
"I have a gen-ed with one player, I can try to talk to him."
"We're freshmen. You think a junior will pay any attention to us?"
I smiled at their conversation, slowly packing my belongings up. I remembered how it felt to be a freshman like all eyes were on me as I stumbled through campus. The truth was, nobody was looking, and after reality set in that I was a guppy fish in a vast ocean full of other guppies, a weight was lifted.
College is like a holding pen.
A four-year-long—or more—summer camp for the new adults to find their footing before being thrown to the sharks.
I leaned toward the girls. "Sorry for eavesdropping, but here's a little tip—just go for it. Say hi to those guys, make friends, don't worry about what the other people will think because chances are you'll never see them again or they're in the same boat as you."
They smiled at me as I stood. "Thank you," they said.
"You're welcome." I walked to the elevators to meet Reva across campus in the writing building.
My stomach made garbled noises as students took their normal seats. I refrained from turning around to see if Elijah had taken his, even though every fiber in my body wanted me to.
"Wanna sip?" Reva held her coffee toward me.
"No thanks, my stomach is... I'd probably vomit."
She grimaced. "Have you eaten?"
Had I? I recalled breakfast, and when nothing came to mind, I thought about the lone apple I picked for dinner. "Yes."
She narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe you. We're going to get something after class."
I didn't argue, alternatively, I turned my head to look at the seats behind me.
Empty. Full. Full. Empty. Elijah.
Our eyes met, and he tipped his chin in greeting, his lips twisting into a beautiful half-grin. I cast a swift smile, more awkward than intended, and faced front. As the professor walked in, my lap buzzed.
