“History.”
I joke, “So we’re both planning to be unemployable?”
He bursts into a broad smile and dammit, my heart flutters. Hello Betts, your boyfriend is downstairs.
I ask, “How come I’ve never seen you before?” Brownhill is a small school, only about five thousand students. And of those five thousand, only a few hundred are foolish enough to major in the humanities. Day after day I see the same faces wandering around Tayler Hall, the building the English, history, and philosophy departments share, and Leo Hawthorn’s has never been among them. Believe me, if I’d seen his face, I’d remember.
He shrugs. “I guess I’m just someone most people don’t notice.”
Yeah right. He’s gorgeous, albeit not my type. Every guy I’ve ever gone out with has been like Zander. Sun-kissed and bright-eyed. Athletic. The friendly guy with the million-dollar smile. Leo is all stillness and mystery. It’s hard to tell in the bluish light, but I’mpretty sure everything he’s wearing is some shade of gray.Darkgray. His jacket might even be black.
“Seriously though,” I say. “Why are you standing here in the kitchen all alone?”
“I’m looking for someone worth talking to.”
Emboldened by Cole’s mixed drink, I ask, “And am I someone worth talking to?”
“You’re exactly what I was looking for.”
Hmm, was that a come-on? For the life of me, I can’t tell. All he’s giving me is an enigmatic half-smile. No heavy-lidded eyes, no inching closer. If he’s flirting, then he has a rather unusual style.
“That guy I saw you with, the one with the hair—” He gestures above his head, no doubt referring to Zander’s mop of surfer curls. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“Yeah, why? Did you want to talk to him?” Maybe that’s what this is all about. Leo needs Zander for something. Lots of people do. Zander has an in with just about every person in power: the college Provost, the faculty head of Greek Life, the Dean of Students. Plus, he comes from a powerful family. His father, Alexander Sr., is the owner of The O’Leary Group, a corporate consulting firm that works with businesses all over the South.
“No.” Leo shakes his head. “Just wondering. It’s you I wanted to talk to.”
“Oh.”
“What happened the other night?”
“You mean when they kicked everybody out?”
He nods and I try not to show my disappointment. He’s just like everyone else; all he wants is the gossip. And who better to get it from than one of the brothers’ girlfriends?
“I saw the ambulance,” he adds.
Not wanting to be rude, I answer, “Some guy OD’d on Molly.”
“OD’d?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think you could OD on that stuff, but I guess you can.”
He blinks and furrows his thick brows. “What’s OD’d?”
I halt my shock before it can manifest on my face. “Um, you know—overdosed?”
“Overdosed? Oh! O.D.” His smile is endearingly self-effacing. “Okay. I get it.”
“You don’t know what Molly is either, do you?”
He grins sheepishly.
“It’s a nickname for Ecstasy.”
“Ecstasy?”
Does he seriously not know anything about drugs? Even those of us who don’t do them know what they are. Maybe he grew up in some sort of commune away from civilization. Or a religious cult.
