back all the accusations I wanted to chuck at him. Like how he turned invisible, or who the heck his creepy friend was. “Great. Yours?”
“Great,” he copied me, then lowered his voice further. “Look, this might seem kind of strange, but, could I see your hand?” I blinked, and instinctively pushed my hands beneath my desk, tightly gripping my knees. “Why?” I demanded shortly.
He stared deeply into my eyes and spoke smoothly, his voice carefully low. “I wanted to see if they turned red from all the ketchup you spilled.”
My eyes narrowed. “Is that supposed to be your idea of joke?” He shrugged. “You’re not too friendly, are you?”
“Maybe you’re too friendly. Did you ever think of that?” He leaned back in his chair to regard me expansively. “I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”
• • • K 48 K • • •
• • • K s e e r s
“Really? How observant of you.”
His lips quirked in what I almost thought was his first genuine smile. “Is there a reason behind the dislike?”
“Maybe.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Probably not,” I returned smoothly, leaning away from him to pull out a notebook and pencil. A few more students trickled in—including Aaron. He eyed Patrick strangely when he passed behind him, but was smiling his regular charming smile when he sat at my other side.
“Hey Patrick, Kate told me she saw you last night at the malt shop.” My boyfriend wasn’t very good with subtle.
“Yeah, I popped in for something. I was really just in and out.” Aaron pulled his backpack onto his desk and began digging through it. “Sorry I didn’t see you. I know what it’s like moving to a new area and feeling like an outcast. It bites.” Patrick shrugged. “I’ve gotten pretty used to it.”
“I can’t imagine moving to a new country. Do you miss Ireland?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
Then Mr. Benson came in, and the conversation ended as class began. We got a reading list, and I was surprised by how unfamiliar I was with the titles. Most of the author names I knew, but Benson explained that he wanted to read the lesser known classics. First up would be “The House of the Seven Gables,” by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I’d read “The Scarlet Letter” before, but I’d never even heard of this one.
Class ended, Aaron kissed me goodbye, and I walked toward history. I didn’t realize Patrick was walking beside me until he spoke. “How long have you two been dating?” I gave him a weird look as I pushed through the crowded hall.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” He shrugged a single shoulder. “Curious, that’s all.”
• • • K 49
h e a t h e r f r o s t K • • •
“Over a year. Why?”
“Just curious,” he reiterated.
“So . . . how come you’re stalking me? Just curious,” I added when he glanced up at me.
That quirky smile was back. “You noticed?” At my pointed look he actually laughed, though the sound was low. “I’m a certi-fied lunatic, and a serial killer. You’re going to be my next victim—
if you don’t choke to death on a sandwich first.” His words did get a slight smile from me, but I wasn’t ready to be all buddy-buddy just yet. “So you’ve admitted that you did get into all my classes on purpose?”
“All part of the grand design,” he reassured me with a grin. He caught the closing classroom door and pulled it open for me with one curling hand.
I paused in the hall and peeked up at him, realizing that he wasn’t much taller than me. “What’s up with guys opening doors for girls anyway?” I blurted suddenly, thinking of Aaron’s overly gentleman behavior. “I mean, it’s not like we’re weak and unable to twist a knob.”
Patrick cocked a single eyebrow as he studied me. “Maybe it’s not about weakness, but respect. Gentlemen open doors for ladies. That’s how it’s always been.”
“What if
“Great,” he copied me, then lowered his voice further. “Look, this might seem kind of strange, but, could I see your hand?” I blinked, and instinctively pushed my hands beneath my desk, tightly gripping my knees. “Why?” I demanded shortly.
He stared deeply into my eyes and spoke smoothly, his voice carefully low. “I wanted to see if they turned red from all the ketchup you spilled.”
My eyes narrowed. “Is that supposed to be your idea of joke?” He shrugged. “You’re not too friendly, are you?”
“Maybe you’re too friendly. Did you ever think of that?” He leaned back in his chair to regard me expansively. “I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”
• • • K 48 K • • •
• • • K s e e r s
“Really? How observant of you.”
His lips quirked in what I almost thought was his first genuine smile. “Is there a reason behind the dislike?”
“Maybe.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Probably not,” I returned smoothly, leaning away from him to pull out a notebook and pencil. A few more students trickled in—including Aaron. He eyed Patrick strangely when he passed behind him, but was smiling his regular charming smile when he sat at my other side.
“Hey Patrick, Kate told me she saw you last night at the malt shop.” My boyfriend wasn’t very good with subtle.
“Yeah, I popped in for something. I was really just in and out.” Aaron pulled his backpack onto his desk and began digging through it. “Sorry I didn’t see you. I know what it’s like moving to a new area and feeling like an outcast. It bites.” Patrick shrugged. “I’ve gotten pretty used to it.”
“I can’t imagine moving to a new country. Do you miss Ireland?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
Then Mr. Benson came in, and the conversation ended as class began. We got a reading list, and I was surprised by how unfamiliar I was with the titles. Most of the author names I knew, but Benson explained that he wanted to read the lesser known classics. First up would be “The House of the Seven Gables,” by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I’d read “The Scarlet Letter” before, but I’d never even heard of this one.
Class ended, Aaron kissed me goodbye, and I walked toward history. I didn’t realize Patrick was walking beside me until he spoke. “How long have you two been dating?” I gave him a weird look as I pushed through the crowded hall.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” He shrugged a single shoulder. “Curious, that’s all.”
• • • K 49
h e a t h e r f r o s t K • • •
“Over a year. Why?”
“Just curious,” he reiterated.
“So . . . how come you’re stalking me? Just curious,” I added when he glanced up at me.
That quirky smile was back. “You noticed?” At my pointed look he actually laughed, though the sound was low. “I’m a certi-fied lunatic, and a serial killer. You’re going to be my next victim—
if you don’t choke to death on a sandwich first.” His words did get a slight smile from me, but I wasn’t ready to be all buddy-buddy just yet. “So you’ve admitted that you did get into all my classes on purpose?”
“All part of the grand design,” he reassured me with a grin. He caught the closing classroom door and pulled it open for me with one curling hand.
I paused in the hall and peeked up at him, realizing that he wasn’t much taller than me. “What’s up with guys opening doors for girls anyway?” I blurted suddenly, thinking of Aaron’s overly gentleman behavior. “I mean, it’s not like we’re weak and unable to twist a knob.”
Patrick cocked a single eyebrow as he studied me. “Maybe it’s not about weakness, but respect. Gentlemen open doors for ladies. That’s how it’s always been.”
“What if
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