Second Chance With A Stranger[COMPLETE]

Scent Of A Cheerleader

God, she was beautiful.

Five years ago James had attended his first high school reunion, ten years after they had graduated. It had been a dull affair, and he remembered being surprised by how awfully adulthood had treated some of his schoolmates. Beer bellies, more than a few overweight, many tired and in bad humor as they raised a bunch of ungrateful kids. Life had happened, no matter how he had said in his valedictorian speech—much to the scandalized surprise of the principle--that they would be taking it by the balls.

Cassidy, however, looked like she had taken life by the balls.

She was trim, well put together, oozing professionalism. Her gaze demanded she be taken seriously, the brown eyes liberally framed with mascara, making them almost innocently dramatic on a slim face. Her blond hair was pulled back in an expert French knot, soft makeup enhancing the beautiful lines of her face. And God, after smelling years of the aseptic hospital environment occasionally mixed with disease and the salty scent of bare human skin, she smelled lovely.

They never wore scents at the hospital, and having spent most of his adult life working his ass off, he had never acquired any knowledge of perfumes. He didn't know what she smelled of...except it bought to mind vanilla, a bouquet of blooming, dewy flowers, and fresh water flowing into a stream at the same time. It was intoxicating.

She didn't remember him—unsurprisingly—but he remembered her. Hard not to, considering not many pretty girls had joined the Chess Club. He had been taken by her at first, but a few days in her company and he had quickly surmised she wasn't worth the trouble. Beautiful and aware of it, she had had trouble written all over her, from her snickering friends to her careless disregard for anyone around her. She had barely ever even looked at him, even as they had played a few games together, always lost in her own thoughts, the game broken now and then as she took out a little mirror from her purse to check her lipstick, to powder her nose.

Not to mention how she had been obsessed with Adam Walsh. Almost embarrassing to watch it had been, but James hadn't bothered telling her so. Lanky, acne prone, wearing humongous glasses, it wasn't like he had been an authority in what was socially appropriate. He and Cassidy had occupied different worlds—different galaxies, even, when it came to social structures in high school, and the few times she'd faced him, her eyes had gone over him as if he wasn't even there.

Not that it bothered him. He was used to it from pretty girls, and his average looks had suffered a tremendous blow when puberty had brought on the horrid acne. His confidence had taken a hit, and he had preferred no one but his closest friends for company. Certainly not pretty cheerleaders who had worn perpetual sneers even as they tried to copy his work in class.

His high school had been marked by it, but the acne had cleared sometime during his senior year, appearing less and less as he pursued his bachelor's degree leaving behind only mild scars and the occasional angry redness. After his second graduation his mother had bundled him up to a highly recommended dermatologist against his protests. A prescription had worked wonders for the residual scars on his face, but not much for his confidence, and he had focused his attention towards med school.

It had taken a fellow medical student in his first year passing him a scalpel and caressing his hand as he grasped it over a cadaver to deliver the startled realization that he was being flirted with.

That he was being flirted with a lot.

Fellow students, patients they examined during study, even certain disturbing teachers...they flirted.

He would love to think he had immediately transitioned into a lady killer, but real life wasn't that simple. He had gone into med school an awkward nerd, and it had taken all the years to grow into himself, so that by the time he graduated, he was finally the self assured man he wanted to be. But even to this day he wasn't too comfortable when women stared too long, acted too infatuated. He liked it, sure...but unlike some of his friends, he hadn't developed the thick skin to laugh it off.