"What was that about?" Heather asked.
Avery was not a topic that Collin had planned to cover that night. They were having dinner to build a bridge, and discussing his ex–especially such a recent one–seemed like it could cause a tidal wave down the river, destroying any progress they had made.
But, thanks to Sam, he couldn't avoid it completely.
"You met Avery the other night, right?" Collin asked, and Heather nodded. "Well, I guess she broke up with her new girlfriend, but I am unsure why this is my concern."
"I think it's obvious." She smirked. "She wants you back."
Collin gaped. How did she know? "Wh–"
"She was totally sniffing me out the other night. A girl can tell these things." Heather shrugged like it was no big deal.
"What did she say?" He sat forward, placing his elbows on the table.
"Oh, I don't know. Nothing really. It was more the vibe she was giving off."
"I have no interest in getting back with her," Collin insisted.
"I know," Heather said, relaxing into the dining room chair. "But..." Her face grew serious. "Are you over her?"
Collin pulled his elbows down and looked at his hands. The ones that had changed so much since the first time they had held Avery's back in their sophomore year of high school. "She's not the person I thought she was," he answered. "At least not anymore. So, there's nothing to still be hooked on, you know?" He glanced back up.
"Yeah, I can understand that." She nodded once, satisfied with his response.
"Are you done?" Collin asked, gesturing to her empty plate.
"Yes, and thank you. It really was delicious."
He picked up both their plates; hers cleaned off, his nearly so. "Hopefully we can do it again." He cleared the table, bringing everything to the kitchen.
When he walked back around the counter, Heather had moved from the dining room table to the living room and was sitting on the green couch, her Snoopy mug resting on her knee. He grabbed his NPR mug and sat down next to her, took a sip, and then placed it on the coffee table in front of them.
"No coasters?" she asked.
"I enjoy living on the edge." He smiled.
She took her own sip and then placed her mug next to his. "Do you cook often?"
"No, not really." His knee bumped against hers. "You?"
"Yeah." She scooted closer to him, her hip touching his. "If you let me borrow your kitchen, maybe I could cook something for you sometime."
He faced her, their shoulders brushing and their faces mere inches apart. "I'd like that," he said low and with a hint of a growl.
"I could really go for something sweet right now." She nibbled her bottom lip and looked at him through lowered lashes.
He leaned forward, inhaling her scent of rose petals and cedar. He was close enough that he could feel her breath tickle against his skin. "I didn't make anything for dessert, but I always have a stash of Oreos if you want one."
Their bodies both shifted slightly, their shoulders turning towards each other. Heather tilted her head a few degrees, her mouth opening, as if to say something in response. But she never got the chance to answer, because Collin closed the distance, his nose nuzzling her nose, his lips lightly caressing the edge of her lips.
Her mouth was warm on his and when she didn't pull away, he cupped her jaw and drew her closer. She pressed into him, her fingers tracing his ear and then running through his short hair.
"Is this okay?" he asked without breaking apart and in response she reached her other hand up and grabbed at the nape of his neck.
Their kiss deepened, their tongues finding each other. She tasted of beer, tomato sauce, and chapstick.
He kept holding her face with one hand, his other one running down the length of her neck, along her shoulder, and then beneath her arm. His wrist grazed against the side of her breast as he ran his fingers up and across her back, pressing his chest against hers, pushing her into the cushions of the couch.
For a second, he pulled back. Her eyes fluttered open, and a look passed between them, full of want and need. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, then trailed his lips down her neck, hugging her close and she caressed his hair.
He could have kept going. Could have led her to his bedroom down the hall. Allowed himself to get lost in all of her.
But her phone started ringing.
"Let me just silence it." She sat up and pulled her phone out of her pocket, pressed the button on the side, and placed it next to their beers on the coffee table.
"Where were we?" Collin leaned in to find her lips when her phone rang again.
"Sorry," Heather said, picking it back up. "If Veronica is calling me twice in a row, I guess I should answer." She flipped open her phone and brought it to her ear. "Hey Vee, how was the study group?"
Collin studied Heather's face as she nodded along. Her eyebrows dancing up and then swooping down, her mouth forming a small oh. "Okay, okay... yeah... totally. No, no problem..."
"Is everything alright?" he mouthed.
She waved her hand in a rolling motion at him, signaling that it was wrapping up. "I get it. Of course.... Yes. I'll see you soon. Bye."
"Soon?" He tried not to feel so crestfallen. It was better to end the night on this note. To linger in this getting-to-know-you stage. As much as he didn't want to think about Avery at this moment, Heather was the first girl he had so much as held hands with who wasn't Avery since he was fifteen. And he wasn't exactly a player his freshman year. Slow was the way to go.
"She's just freaking out. Boy trouble. She is on the bus coming down from campus and wants me to hop on when it gets to your stop."
"You're a good friend." He leaned forward and kissed her three times: by the corner of her mouth, on her cheek, and at the edge of her jaw. "Let me walk you down to the corner and wait with you," he whispered into her ear.
She brought her mouth to his and kissed him softly. "Please."
So, they stood from the couch and smoothed out their clothes. "Want to borrow a jacket?" he asked.
"Sure."
He ran into his room and grabbed his gray zip-up hoodie with a banana slug logo. "It's not too cold out, this should be good," he said as he handed it to her.
She shrugged into it, the fabric hanging loosely, and pulled the collar up to her nose. "Smells like you." She smiled.
He gave her a quizzical look.
"That's a good thing," she added. "Come on, let's go."
They held hands as they walked down the block to the corner. He needed to touch her. To know she was real, and that he was wanted. And from the way she squeezed his arm and reached for his neck, there was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him.
Too soon, Veronica texted to say that she was a stop away and then the bright lights of the bus came barreling down the hill. "See you tomorrow?" he asked.
"Probably studying. Do you work Thursday?" The bus screeched over to the curb.
"Yes," he answered, and then pulled her in for one last kiss as the doors opened up.
He stood watching the bus drive away until it disappeared around the corner and out of view.
* * *
He spent Wednesday and Thursday floating through the air. All he could think about was Heather. Her hands. Her mouth. Parts of her he hadn't seen yet, but wanted to.
They'd spent time with each other both those days, but always in groups, and they had to behave themselves.
Then it was Friday, and they planned to go out dancing.
Collin skipped going to the gym that morning. Finals were around the corner and professors were piling on the homework. He had both a passage to translate for Latin and a term paper for Ancient Greek Literature due, and even though he had worked on them both the previous night, he didn't finish editing until almost noon.
As he was packing his bag to head to campus, his phone buzzed. He picked it up: one new message. Only one person ever texted him. A smile spread across his lips reflexively.
When he clicked on it, the message was indeed from Heather, but instead of skipping a beat, his heart dropped to his toes.
Heather: A bet? Was that all I was? A fucking bet? I thought you were different, but I guess a guy is a guy is a guy.
His hands started shaking uncontrollably, but he managed to press the call button. He needed to straighten things out. Correct the narrative.
She sent his call directly to voicemail. He threw his phone across the room.
What the fuck had Sam done?