Page 2 of Pack Apollo

She says the last bit in a whisper like she's afraid someone will overhear, then adds, "They said it would be good to make friends with other people that share our designation. Other than you, I've only met one in the past couple weeks. Not to speak bad of people, but he wasn't very nice."

"And how do you know that I am?" I question, knowing damn well she couldn't have gathered enough of my scent before she sat down. Especially through the blockers that I take.

"Oh, umm," her face turns pink in the cheeks as her expression turns sheepish. "They have our names written down on a clipboard at the center, and I recognized yours because we actually have a class together. I sit behind you in calculus."

"That's cool," I say, completely oblivious to any of that information. "Sorry I didn't recognize you. A lot of the time, I'm in my own head and don't pay attention."

She waves away my apology as she sticks another bite offood in her mouth. Politely talking around it, she tells me, "It's totally fine. Honestly, if I didn't come from such a big family and was used to the loneliness, I probably wouldn't bother getting to know anyone, either. Doesn't help that my roommate is just awful."

"I can't completely understand where you're coming from on that one," I say before finishing off the rest of my french toast.

"Yeah?" she asks wide eyed. "Yours work on a fish food truck most nights of the week and refuse to take a shower, too?"

My grimace cannot be helped if I really and truly try. "Okay, you win. Mine is just filthy. She's got our entire room cluttered. Her side is covered with old pizza boxes and food trash."

Millie rolls her eyes. "Some of these people act like they've never had to clean up after anyone, including themselves, all their lives."

"They probably haven't," I agree. "My mom works constantly, so a lot of the cooking and cleaning was left up to me."

She's already nodding before I even finish. "Yep, and imagine being one of the oldest of the siblings required to clean up after the younger ones. Thank God I didn't have to cook, though. I couldn't think of anything worse."

"Nothing?" I teasingly question. "Not even eating at a certain food truck, knowing at least one of the worker's personal hygiene routine?"

Fake gagging, she admits, "You are so right. No thanks."

My phone lights up with a notification saying my video posted, and I catch a quick glimpse at the time.

"Oh hell," I say, gathering my things and standing. "I've got to get to my first class or I'm going to be late. It was really nice meeting you."

"You, too," she replies with a wide smile. "Maybe we cando breakfast again sometime."

"Sure," I tell her not at all lying. For the first time since I got here, I feel like this school isn't as hollow and lonely as it seems. As I toss my trash and recycle what I can, it dawns on me that I should've gotten her number or something. Just in case. When I turn back to the table, it's to find her already gone. I glance around to see if I can find her, but she seems to have disappeared. With an internal shrug, I adjust my bag strap on my shoulder and begin walking to class. I'm sure if she found me once, she can do it again.

I'm so lost in thought over my morning companion that I don't see the elbow coming until it's too late. It collides with my shoulder as a broad man is turning. I let out a short sound of surprise. Even though it doesn't hurt me, there are still consequences. The hand that is attached to said elbow is holding a stack full of books with a newspaper tucked in the middle. Books fly everywhere.

"I'm so sorry," I blurt out, trying to catch one of the books that flew in my direction.

At the same time, a deep voice says, "Oh, no! Oh, crap!"

It only takes my brain half a second to catch up to the fact that I've just ran my professor over. That it's his newspaper I was scoffing at earlier tucked between book folds.

"I'm so sorry, professor," I repeat, bending down to retrieve the mess off the floor.

"No need for you to apologize," he says, setting his travel coffee mug down on the table closest before crouching down to help me. "I was the one who wasn't watching where I was going. Guess that's why they always say to get your head out of the clouds. Or, in my case, nose out of a book."

"How on Earth were you reading while carrying all of theseandyour coffee?" I ask, surprised.

He chuckles, and I swear to everything I am, I feel it downto my bones. My stomach does flips as my brain tries to catch up to what he's saying. "It takes skill that not a lot of people possess, and obviously that some shouldn't."

At his own roasting of himself, he smiles, and I'm certain the world stops spinning. I've seen this man several days a week now since classes started, yet I've never actually seen him until now. That smile is show stopping, and it pulls his cheeks up just high enough to make his ice-blue eyes narrow slightly. His broad shoulders and thick arms are pushing the limits on his white, long-sleeved, button-down dress shirt.

He's got it paired with a dark-grey dress vest, and I'm not ashamed to admit that the combo of the two does something for me. In more ways than one and in more ways than it probably should.

At the last second, I remember that he's speaking to me, and there's an actual conversation that was happening before my brain decided to short circuit.

"Don't worry," I tell him, matching his smile. "I think I'm in that category with you most days."

He chuckles, and I try to ignore the way it makes me feel this time.

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