Pink Shades of Words: Walk 2016 Read online

  "This whole 'preparedness is next to Godliness' philosophy must be a library-employee thing," Sandy blithely observed. "Now, let's stop talking about boring old books and talk about what we really all gathered here tonight to hear about: Sebastian. Freaking. Winters."

  This whole line of questioning really made me feel put on the spot. After all, even the talking (and making out) in Grandma Trudy's backyard yesterday hadn’t completely rid me of the sensation of waiting for the other shoe to drop where Sebastian was concerned. I still felt like, at any moment, I was going to wake up and find out that this had all been an extremely pleasant but singularly unrealistic dream. Talking about it with Brandy had just seemed like chatter. Talking about it with all of these girls? That would make it real. And real was scary.

  "I don't really know what there is to talk about," I hedged, pulling my legs up in the chair and tucking them underneath me.

  "Classic evasion," Evelyn noted.

  A theater major, she wanted to be a classically-trained New York theater actress. She made it her business to study body language and connect it with the internal story that it told. After all, she’d pointed out, if she wanted to be able to embody other people on stage, to understand and portray their motivations and their emotional landscapes, she had to be able to interpret what those landscapes were by observing them. She had to pay attention. And she had gotten unnervingly good at it.

  I sat up straighter, attempting to make my face and my demeanor as blank as possible so that she couldn't read me. "I don't know what you mean," I said in as neutral a voice as I could manage.

  All of the girls burst out laughing. I looked around, my brows furrowed. What was so funny?

  Finally, Cat took pity on me and said, "Sorry, Michelle. It's just that we've all tried that 'blank slate' routine with Evelyn at one point or another. Trust us. It doesn't work."

  Evelyn nodded slightly, her eyes narrowing as let her laser-focused gaze travel up and down the length of me. "The flat, monotonous tone. The shrug. The going-for-blasé-but-not-quite-getting-there face. The downward rounding of the shoulders as the legs are tucked out of sight. Yep. All of these conspire to indicate that someone is trying to deflect attention. To hide. And what that tells me is"—she smiled wickedly—"this is someone who has something to hide."

  I shook my head and buried my face in my hands.

  Evelyn gave a what-did-I-tell-ya shrug. "Wow. Do I even need to comment on the literal hiding of the facial expression?"

  I looked up at the girls. My cheeks were flaming, which wasn't part of my normal MO. Then again, being this far out of my comfort zone wasn't part of my normal MO, either. So, who knew how I would usually react when put in this kind of situation? I couldn't ever remember having been in one before. When it came to positions in the social structure, center of attention was not my go-to place.

  Cat, the sweetest and most nurturing one in the group, immediately rushed to my defense when she saw my face. "Okay, guys. I think that's enough. If Michelle doesn't want to talk about Sebastian, then she shouldn't have to."

  I smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Cat. I appreciate it. It was super sweet of you to stick up for me. But I'll be honest. Even as you're defending me, I can hear the disappointment in your tone underneath the layers of solidarity."

  She laughed. "Guilty as charged. I have to say...when I found out you were hanging around with Sebastian Winters, I was just about eaten up with curiosity. After all, he usually never goes outside his little group of jocks and the future supermodels that surround them. I don't know that I've ever met anyone on campus that's actually had a real conversation with him. I'm dying to know what he's like. Is that weird?"

  "I think it's kind of weird," Brandy answered. "Hell, he's not a celebrity. He's a frickin' student! Just because he plays a sport, damn! Am I literally the only person on this entire campus who’d never even heard the name Sebastian Winters before Michelle started talking with him?"

  "Yes," the rest of the girls answered in unison.

  "He's Winship royalty, Bran," Sandy explained.

  Brandy shrugged like she still didn't understand what the big deal was, but she dropped the subject.

  "No, Sandy's exactly right. She hit the nail on the head," I said. "That's the issue. He's Winship royalty. And I'm a Winship peasant. So, how did this happen? That's what makes me nervous about the whole thing."

  "You're not a peasant!" Cat exclaimed, clearly hurt on my behalf that anyone would say such a thing about me, even if that anyone was me.

  "I'm not saying that to be down on myself," I clarified. "In the Winship hierarchy, I am. And that's totally fine. The majority of us are. If the Winship social system were an economy, Sebastian would be part of the One Percent."

  "And you would have been out in the park on Wall Street, occupying your anarchistic ass off," Brandy added.

  "Precisely. So Sebastian’s taking an interest in me... I guess I just don't really understand how that happened. And, if I don't understand that, how can I trust it to last?"

  "Shit, girl. You're asking all the wrong questions," Sandy said.

  "What are the right questions?”

  "Instead of asking yourself how and why this happened, ask yourself how you can make the most of it. Instead of spending time and energy wondering how long it's going to last, ask yourself what you can do to enjoy it as much as you possibly can while it does last."

  Brandy raised her eyebrows. "Wow, sis. For someone who doesn't often give a lot of thought to topics beyond clothes and makeup, that was shockingly wise advice."

  "You don't give me enough credit," Sandy said haughtily.

  "Clearly."

  "I also think about hair," she added.

  Brandy narrowed her eyes and smirked. "Smartass."

  "Okay. Clever twin banter aside, I actually think that's very good advice," Cat said. "What's wrong with just relaxing and letting it play out? Not everything has to be forever. Why miss out on a good thing just because you're not absolutely sure, going into it, that it's going to last? Maybe it will still be amazing, even if it eventually ends."

  I nodded. I could see the wisdom of the advice, so I vowed to do that. To stop overanalyzing and thinking everything to death, killing any pleasure I could experience in the moment because I was trying to see ten months—or ten years—down the road. I was going to relax and go with the flow, baby.

  Even as I smiled my agreement and made that internal commitment, though, I found myself wondering if I would be able to actually live up to it when it came down to it. Was there any way on earth—or any way in Heaven or Hell, for that matter—I was ever going to be able to look into Sebastian Winters's intoxicating blue eyes and want anything short of forever?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sebastian

  At the beginning of the semester, when I had signed up for my classes, I would've called anyone who had told me that the highlight of my week would be going to debate class a fucking idiot. That my heart would beat faster when I thought about walking through the auditorium doors. That I would count down the days and the minutes until the next class started. That my palms would even get a little sweaty with anticipation when I thought about the next time I’d drop into one of those seats and listen to one of Professor Kaminsky's boring-ass lectures.

  But, obviously, that had all changed on the first day of class. That was the day I’d seen Miche. That was the day everything had changed—and not just the way I felt about Debate class, either. Everything.

  I still remembered the first thing that attracted my attention: her blue hair. I smiled now while thinking about it. On closer inspection, though, I had realized that it wasn't entirely blue. There was just a blue streak through her beautifully wavy, platinum-blond bob. Then, looking her up and down, I noticed her skirt. It was the coolest thing I'd ever seen. It was a bunch of neckties all sewn together, side by side, with the pointy sides falling at her knees. The vibrant colors and patterns of the silky ties were at distinct odds with the res
t of the outfit, which consisted of thick, black tights, scuffed Doc Martens, and a grungy thrift-store tee. However, none of it seemed sloppy or thrown together. It gave the impression of being very carefully thought out.

  I was fricking mesmerized. I remembered thinking to myself that I just had to get to know the girl behind the brain that would put together an outfit like that. Then, when I’d watched her in class (because, trust me, it was a lot more interesting than fucking Kaminsky's lecture), I’d been taken by her epic concentration. She listened, and not in the way most kids did. She really listened. I could see the wheels turning behind her lovely eyes.

  And that had pretty much been it for me. I was sprung as hell. I was, as my mama would have put it, a goner.

  Of course, when I'd flirted with her and hadn't gotten anywhere, far from putting me off, it had only fueled the fire. And, now that things were actually progressing between us, I wasn't just excited to see her in class. I was damn near thrilled.

  I stepped through the door and followed my unconscious routine, which had now become second nature, of scanning the room looking for her. When I spotted her, I smiled as I headed down the aisle toward her seat. This time was different. All the other times I had looked for her, it had been because I’d wanted to see her, to know where she was. I’d had no real use for the information. Now, I was looking for her because I was going to sit next to her. Big improvement in my book.

  When I dropped into the seat next to her, she looked up, startled. Then she laughed.

  "You scared me. I guess I'm not used to people invading my space without warning."

  I gave her a cockeyed grin. "I can give you a warnin' if you like, darlin'. But I definitely plan on 'invading your space' on a pretty regular basis from now on. So, why don't we just consider this a blanket advisory?"

  “You have the coolest way of phrasing things,” she said, smiling warmly as she gave the compliment. Heat grew throughout my body. Wow, that smile. It had been tough to earn her trust enough to get that smile, but now that I was on the receiving end of it, I knew that it had been worth it. In fact, it was an even sweeter prize because of all the effort that had gone into winning it.

  “Well, darlin’, I do have a natural-born gift for words. I come by it honestly. My daddy’s a Southern lawyer. And his daddy’s a Southern preacher. I’ve been listening to both of them expound eloquently on various topics since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I guess some of it rubbed off.”

  She laughed, delighted. “Wow, that makes so much sense! It’s why you always sound like you’re the lead actor in a Tennessee Williams play. And I guess it’s why I can never figure out if you’re giving a closing argument, or a sermon.”

  “Well, honey, when you come right down to it—they’re basically the same thing. It’s all about using words to convince folks of your point of view, and both of them are masters at that. But, I have to say, I do think I’m using my oratory gifts in a much more noble pursuit than either of them.”

  Her eyebrows drew together and her head tilted to the side. I knew I had her. I winked just to drive it home, then teased. “You see, Miche, all they do with their skills is defend the downtrodden and bring people to the Lord.”

  Her puzzlement grew. “And what are you doing?”

  “Why, impressing a beautiful girl, of course! What’s more noble than that?”

  The adorable blush that spread across her face let me know that I’d succeeded.

  Professor Kaminsky entered the classroom and shuffled to the podium. "All right, all right. If we could have conversations come to an end, please? Let's begin, shall we?"

  One thing about Kaminsky that always bugged me was how he always sounded so unsure of everything he said. Rather than just telling everyone to shut the hell up because class was starting, he made it all sound like a question. As if he was asking us if that was okay. It always made me feel kind of rebellious, and I'd usually make a point of continuing on a few more sentences because it annoyed me.

  Not Michelle though. As soon as she heard the professor's voice, her head whipped around to focus on the front of the room. Suddenly, I didn’t exist. She was fully engrossed in class.

  Damn. She was serious about her studies. It was just one of the things I found so fascinating, admirable, and cute as hell about her.

  After thirty seconds had gone by, Kaminsky followed up with, "Students, students! Come on. Settle down now, all right?" in a distracted and slightly annoyed tone.

  No one—except for Michelle—had shut the hell up yet.

  After another few seconds, he shook his head and pulled a group of papers out of his battered, leather briefcase. "I have quizzes to hand back, people!" he announced, holding the messy sheaf over his head.

  Well, hell. That quieted the room fast enough. He should have just led with that. As the two TAs circulated throughout the room and laid the papers facedown on each desk, I smiled at Michelle. She couldn't have been more focused on watching the papers being handed back, though. She wouldn’t have noticed even if I’d stood up and waved my arms around, so I took advantage of the opportunity to gaze at her beautiful face uninterrupted, and enjoyed the view.

  Michelle didn’t wait even a second to flip her paper over after it was set in front of her. Her hands were on it before the TA had even fully laid it down on the desk.

  "Damn, girl," I said with a low whistle. "Ninety-seven percent! That's some good work!"

  "Thanks," she said, sitting up a little straighter. "I studied really hard."

  "It shows."

  The TA laid my paper down on the desk. Rather than flipping it over though, I just lifted the corner and peeked. When I'd seen my grade, I slipped the paper into my bag without fanfare. As I was closing the flap, a gentle hand rested on my forearm.

  When I looked back at Miche, her eyes were buttery with warmth and compassion that I had never seen there before.

  "You don't have to be embarrassed," she said, her voice soft with concern. "A lot of people struggle. I mean, especially athletes. If you want, we could get together and study before the debate trip next weekend. Maybe on Wednesday night? That's my night off."

  Damn. I wasn't going to turn an offer like that down! "Sounds good. I'll text you my dorm room number. We can meet there."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Michelle

  When I knocked on Sebastian's door, I had to admit that I was bit jittery. I had spent over an hour in front of my mirror like some sorority girl, trying on outfits and discarding them one by one. Then I labored over my hair and makeup for another hour. Of course, the clothing I was trying on was nothing a sorority girl would be caught dead in—but that was just fine by me, because it's not like I wanted to wear their frou-frou shit, either. But I had to face the fact that Sebastian was turning me into a stereotypical "girl" in many ways, something I never thought would happen. What really surprised me though? I kinda liked it.

  When the door swung open, I took a step back. Not because I was shocked or appalled at anything I saw. Quite the opposite. God damn, but he was handsome! I stumbled backwards a few small steps because, all of a sudden, my knees were no longer capable of holding my legs up.

  Yep. Typical "girl." And, yep. I loved it.

  "So, where are we headed? To study, I mean? The library? The caf?"

  He laughed. "Girl, I'm not gonna take you back to spend the evening at your job on your one and only night off!"

  Wow. I hadn't even thought about it that way. Because I loved the library like no other place on earth. It felt like home. The smell and the tactile sensation of the books. Being surrounded by other people who loved the written word as much as I did. Damn. I'd probably set up a cot in the back room and never leave it if they'd let me.

  "I don't mind," I said amiably. "I really like it there. And it's a very conducive environment when it comes to studying."

  He smiled that oh-my-God-holy-shit-he's-so-sexy-I-can't-feel-my-fingers smile of his and leaned in toward me conspiratorially. He adopted a
low, sexy tone as he said, "I think we can do better. I think we can find an environment that's conducive to studying...and other things as well."

  I almost passed out right then and right there. However, I did manage to keep my voice relatively tremble-free (score!) when I responded, "Well, where did you have in mind?"

  He stepped back with a flourish and extended his arm to invite me in. Oh, holy mama cow. His room. He was inviting me into his room. Alone. Just the two of us. In his room.

  Be cool, Michelle. You can do this.

  I shrugged with the studied nonchalance I only wished I had actually been feeling. "Sure. Cool. We can do that."

  I was proud of myself. I might have been turning to jelly on the inside, but if someone was listening to my voice, they would've thought I was as cool as a cucumber.

  As I brushed past Sebastian, he whispered in my ear, "Don't worry. I won't bite. Unless you ask me to."

  Okay, so maybe not quite as cool as a cucumber.

  I surreptitiously glanced around as I moved into Sebastian's room. I had kind of expected his room to be a filthy mess, with discarded athletic gear—including maybe jock straps?—slung all over every available surface. But it was nothing like that. It wasn't immaculate by any means. Not in a way that seemed unnatural. Rather, it was sort of comfortably lived in, with books and papers piled up on the desk, and the bed was made, but a bit rumpled.

  "Where can I put my things?"

  "Right there on the desk is fine, if you’d like."

  I walked over to the desk and lifted my messenger bag to set it on the surface. Just before I did, though, I noticed the pile of papers fanned out over the center of the desktop. They caught my eye because they were familiar. I recognized the format. They were the debate quizzes. I had a pile of the exact same papers in my own dorm room. I looked closer. Well, damn! Maybe not exactly the same.

  I slung my messenger bag back over my shoulder and bent down to shuffle through the pile of quizzes. I couldn't believe my eyes. After I had reached the bottom quiz on the pile, I turned to Sebastian, my jaw dropping. He was casually reclining on the bed, watching me with a knowing smile.