Page 6 of Too Safe

She’s not wrong. She’s friendly and seems genuinely interested, but not in the nosy, holier-than-thou sort of way. Her questions have all been straightforward. Her smile is genuine and kind. And considering my last friend was a ninety-six-year-old woman with dementia who’s now dead, I could stand to make a friend my own age.

Decidedly, I tell her the truth.

“I didn’t graduate from high school. I got my GED, then went on to cosmetology school. My uncle lives down here, just across the lake. He told me about the scholarship a few years ago and offered me a place to stay if I applied. I was finally ready for a change, so here I am.”

It’s the thinnest version of the truth. But it’s the most honest I’ve been with anyone in a long time.

“Wow. Good for you. Are you prelaw?” she asks, perking up.

I shake my head. “No. This class was one of the few still open that satisfied the math gen ed credit.” Logic 200would nothave been my first choice.

“Fair enough. So what is your major?”

Great question. I hadn’t even considered going to college until a few months ago. It’s probably going to take a little time to figure out what I want to study.

“I’m undecided right now. I might want to go into social work? Or geriatric care?”

Hunter wrinkles her nose but doesn’t comment beyond that.

“Here.” She hands me her phone. “This is my schedule for the week. Do we have any other classes together?”

On her device’s screen is a color-coded schedule. She’s got two more classes than I do—political science and American history—for a total of twenty-one credit hours. That’s intense. We don’t have any other classes together, but we’re both off on Fridays.

“So you’re prelaw?” I confirm.

She shrugs one shoulder and flips her hair. “What? Like it’s hard?”

I grin at the Elle Woods reference. I really do like this girl. I hope the feeling’s mutual, and that we might grow to be friends.

The thought hasn’t even faded from my mind before Hunter speaks again.

“Put your number in my phone,” she instructs.

Apparently, they grow them assertive in Lake Chapel.

“Let’s do lunch tomorrow. We can go to my favorite sandwich shop. It’s right on the water. Do you like seafood? They’ve got the best crab dip.”

I nod in agreement and add my cell phone number.

I may be focused on her phone, but that doesn’t prevent me from sensing him the moment he enters the room.

Snapping my head up, I fight back a grin as the hot punk rocker from the parking lot saunters into the lecture hall. He has this lazy, relaxed vibe about him. He’s in no rush. Totally at ease.

He climbs the stairs slowly as people around the room call out to him. I barely hear them. I can’t stop staring at his neck. I want to study his tattoo. Learn it. Trace it. Follow the lines all the way down—

“Hot Girl.”

I startle when he stops at our row.

He rests a hand on my desk, drawing my attention. I start at his fingertips and drag my gaze up his bicep and over his inked shoulder.

When I finally take in his face, he smirks. He obviously doesn’t mind the shameless ogling.

“Are you a philosophy major, too?”

Huh?

“Pretty sure you’re the only philosophy major on campus, Locke,” Hunter teases.

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