Page 12 of Fostering Chemistry
She popped open hers. "My room’s on the top floor, just to the right of the stairwell. Feel free to stop by whenever you’d like. If I’m here, that is.” The smile that took over her face presumably meant she was thinking about her boyfriend. But then she sighed. “I wish it weren’t Sunday.”
“Do you have an early class tomorrow?”
"No, it’s just every Sunday night, Seth has dinner with his parents." She made a face that I understood perfectly, even though I’d never had a real boyfriend like she did.
"Thank you for filling me in before I committed peanut butter theft,” I said.
"You’re welcome." She smiled, her nearly white hair bouncing as she walked out. “Hope you like it here!”
I hoped I did, too.
But it probably didn’t matter. Once it was my turn to cook a meal, I was sure to be voted out of the house the very next day.
5
CODY
Dr. Beringer’svoice was a distant hum that barely filtered up to the back row of the lecture hall, which is exactly how I liked it. Why would I want to hear about chemistry when there was a tune I couldn’t shake bouncing around in my head? It had started in the shower this morning and now it was looping on repeat, just waiting to be coaxed to life. My fingers tapped a rhythm on the desk, quietly accompanying the melody in my head.
Large, pointless classes like this made me restless. I didn’t mind learning, but I hated wasting time. I’d rather take the material home, figure it out myself, and spend the rest of the day with my headphones on, incredible soundtracks in my ears. My music classes interested me, and so did the ones for my audio engineering major, but sometimes they overcomplicated things. All I needed to create music of my own was a pencil, a pad, and the sounds running through my head. And then later, after class, a piano.
I ached to put my headphones on now, but even from the nosebleed section, that would be rude. I was a loner, not anasshole. As I scanned the rows of students in front of me, I caught a few with an earbud in, their faces angled discreetly away from the professor. I could’ve done that, but nothing matched the sound quality of my headphones. They were my most prized possessions.
One student, wearing a backward baseball cap, was nodding his head along to the beat. I filtered through the songs in my mental music library and settled onLivin' on a Prayer.That fit his tempo, about 120 beats per minute. Classic old school cool. And then the girl next to him was—wait. She was staring at me.
I lowered my eyes automatically. Loners don’t make eye contact. Besides, she was probably looking at something behind me. Like… the back wall? That made no sense. I took a quick peek and was relieved that she had tuned back into the lecture. Mostly relieved. She was pretty, with wavy hair that tumbled over her shoulders. In the glare of the overhead lights—likely used to keep us from nodding off—her hair was a coppery red with darker roots.
I didn’t mind looking at her now that she was facing away. She was—crap, she was looking at me again. There was no doubting it this time. The question was why. But it didn’t matter. If she tried to shoot her shot before I made it out the door, she’d soon find out I wasn’t the kind of man she’d be interested in.
No, a girl that pretty had options. Her face was open and friendly. Like the underlayer of her hair, her eyebrows and lashes were dark, and she had a pointy chin that suited her. I would imagine the right sort of man would enjoy stroking his thumb along it as he cupped her face, pulling her in for a kiss.
And, shit, now I wasn’t paying attention to the lectureorthe song unfolding in my head. If I didn’t get the music out of myhead and onto paper, it would drive me fucking nuts. I knew that from experience. Just like I knew that the melody would drown out Dr. Beringer even if I’d tried to listen. The only way to be able to function again was to sketch out the notes on the paper in front of me.
A shadow fell over my desk as I was filling in the notation for the seventh measure. I looked up to find that most of my classmates were filing out of the room. Except the one who currently stood next to me.
I blinked up at her. She had green eyes that suited her red hair, whether it was natural or not. Hastily, I shoved my stuff in my pack and stood. Being eye level with her chest wasn’t going to give her a very good impression of me. Not that anything would. What was she doing here?
“Hi.” Her voice was light and musical. I’d bet ten bucks she was an alto. “You’re Cody, right?”
“Yes.” How the hell did she know that?
“I’m Mia. Your housemate.”
My what now?
She must’ve sensed my confusion, because she continued. “I moved into Baylor House over the weekend.”
Oh. Shit. “Hi,” I said finally. “Aaron mentioned you.”
She looked expectant, like she wanted to ask what he’d said about her. Lots of women went for Aaron. Not because he was some over-muscled macho fucker, like so many of the male students that frequented the halls of Langley, but because he was a good guy. We’d moved into the house at the same time lastyear, and he never gave up trying to be my friend, no matter how often I shut him out.
It had been a long, drawn-out standoff, but eventually, he’d won. “I just think of us all as roommates.” What the fuck was a housemate?
She smiled. “That works for me.”
What had she said her name was? Aaron had told me, too. Maybe it wouldn’t fucking kill me to pay attention to something other than the notes in my head every once in a while. Shit, this was ridiculous. But she wasn’t going to like me no matter what I did, so I just came out and admitted it. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Mia.” She waited, probably expecting me to keep the conversation going. If that was what she was waiting for, it was going to be a long wait. “I took that six-week Stepping Stones program, so that’s why I moved in late.”
