Page 5 of Voices

Getting my bearings, I look down and I am captivated by the most beautiful golden-brown eyes I have ever seen.

“Hi,” I whisper.

The guy visibly swallows, and I can’t help but track the movement, watching his Adam's apple bob in his narrow throat.

He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t figure out where I’ve seen him before. I would remember if I had met someone with such pretty eyes.

Realizing that I’m crushing him, I quickly get up and offer him my hand. The guy stares at it and then gets up on his own. He only comes up to my chin and has a mess of shaggy dark hair that’s shorter on the sides. He’s dressed in all black. A blackhoodie with some band on it that I’ve never heard of, black skinny jeans with ripped knees, and black combat boots.

“Sorry again for running into you like that.” I try to get him to look at me but he’s staring at my chest. “That idiot with the shit-eating grin is horrible at football.”

I point to where Matt is with the other guys, looking proud of himself for some reason.

“Good thing he’s a great hockey player,” I chuckle.

The guy snaps his head up at that and sucks in a breath. His eyes are huge as he takes a step back.

“I’m Shane by the way.” I smile at him.

He keeps staring at me like I have two heads. He backs up some more and pulls his hood up.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine. I h-have to go,” he says so softly that I almost miss it.

Before I can say anything else, he turns and walks away.

What the fuck was that? And why in the hell was he wearing a hoodie at the end of September when it’s humid as shit and almost ninety degrees out?

I watch as he scurries off to be swallowed up by the other students milling around.

Turning around to head towards the guys, I spot a notebook on the ground. Picking it up, I turn it over, looking for a name. Not seeing anything, I open it and notice that it isn’t a notebook but a sketchbook. And holy shit this person is good.

Walking back to where the guys are now chatting with some girls, I tuck it in the back of my shorts and cover it with my shirt. I’m not exactly sure why I do that, but something tells me to keep it safe until I can return it.

Walking up to the group, I see Matt still smiling.

“Have a nice fall?”

I shove him playfully. “Maybe if you learned how to throw, I wouldn’t be knocking people over trying to catch it.”

Asher glances over my shoulder and then looks at me, silently asking where the guy went.

I shrug. “I have no idea, but he seemed scared of something, then he just took off.” I look around for him, knowing he’s long gone. “Do you guys know him? He looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen him before.”

Everyone shakes their head.

“I’ve never seen him. But then again Gannon U is huge. Wouldn’t be surprised if we never see him again though,” Ryder says.

I hope not. There’s something behind those eyes that’s calling my name. Plus, he’ll want his book back. There’s no way he’s this good and not an art major.

Matt says he’s hungry, which means we have approximately ten minutes before he starts whining like a baby, and fifteen before he starts singing commercial jingles that’ll get stuck in your head and annoy the shit out of you for the rest of the day.

With one more glance over my shoulder in the direction the guy with the beautiful golden eyes went, we take off to my truck.

“Call 1-800 Stea-mer. Stanley Steamer gets car-pet clean-er!”

“Oh my god! Shut up, Matt! We made it here in twenty minutes. There’s no need for this torture,” Ryder grouses.

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