Always waiting

Chapter 4

-Brittany-

My jaw hit my lap.

“It was!” Brittany’s shoulders shook. “You ran into Clinton Hamilton?”

Jacob wasn’t smiling. He was just staring at me in… awe? “I am so incredibly envious of you right now. I would give my left testicle to run into Clinton Hamilton.”

I half laughed, half choked. “Wow. That’s pretty serious.”

“Clinton Morgan is serious, Avery. You wouldn’t know. You’re not from around here,” Jacob said.

“You’re a freshman, too. How do you know about him?” I asked, because Clint looked too old to be a freshman. He had to at least be a junior or senior.

“Everyone on school knows him,” he replied.

“You’ve been on school for less than a week!”

Jacob grinned. “I get around.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t get it. Yeah, he’s… hot, but so what?”

“I went to school with Clinton,” Brittany explained, glancing over her shoulder. “I mean, he was two years older than me, but he was like the s**t in high school. Everyone wanted to be around him or with him. It’s pretty much the same here.”

Curiosity rose in spite of how what Brittany had said reminded me of someone else. “So you guys are from around here?”

“No. We’re from outside of Morgantown-Fort Hill area. I don’t know why he chose this school instead of WVU, but I did because I wanted to get out of town versus being stuck with the same old people.”

I could understand that.

“Anyway, Clinton is known around school .” Jacob smacked his hands together. “He lives off school and supposedly throws the best parties ever and-“

“He had a reputation in high school,” Brittany cut in. “A reputation that was well earned. Don’t get me wrong. Clinton has always been a really cool guy. Very nice and funny, but he put the ‘or’ in man-w***e back then. Seems to have settled down a bit, but a leopard and their spots…”

“Okay.” I fiddled with my bracelet. “Good to know, but it doesn’t really matter. I mean, I ran into him in a hallway. That’s the extent of my knowledge of Clint.”

“Clint?” Brittany blinked.

“Yeah?” I shoved to my feet and grabbed my bag. Doors would open soon.

Brittany’s brows knitted. “People who he doesn’t know call him Clinteron. Only his friends call him Clint.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “He told me people called him Clint, so I assumed that’s what people called him.”

Brittany didn’t say anything, and I honestly didn’t see what the big deal was. Clint/Clinteron/Whatever was just being polite after I ran him over. The fact that he was a reformed party playboy meant nothing to me other than to stay far, far away from him.

Doors swung open and students spilled into the hallway. Our little group waited until it cleared before we headed inside, picking three seats in the back, with Jacob in-between us. As I pulled out my massive, could knock someone out if hit with, five subject notebook, Jacob grabbed my arm. Mischief and total mayhem filled his gaze. "You cannot drop astronomy. To get through this semester, I must live vicariously through you and hear about Clint at least three days a week."

I laughed softly. "I'm not going to drop the class-" Even though I sort of wanted to. "-But I doubt I'm going to have anything to tell you. It's not like we're even going to talk again."

Jacob let go of my arm and sat back, eyeing me. "Famous last words, Avery."

The rest of the day wasn't nearly as eventful as my morning had been, much to my pleasure. No more innocent hot boys almost knocked over or other humiliating incidents. Although I had to relive the experience all over again at lunch for Jacob's entertainment, I was happy that he and Brittany had a break around the same time I did. I'd really been planning on spending most of my day being a loner, so it was nice to actually talk to people… my own age.

Being social was like riding a bike, I guessed.

And besides Jacob's unneeded advice, which entailed me purposely running into Clint the next time I saw him, there hadn't been any awkward moments. By the end of the day, I honestly had pretty much forgotten about Clint.

Before I left school, I went to the financial building to pick up an application for the work-study program that the university offers. I didn't need the money, but I did need the time wasters so that I wouldn't have to think about anything else. Even though I had a full course load of eighteen credit hours, I was going to have a ton of free time. However, there were no available positions for a job on campus, which looked like the best option to pursue. My name has been added to a more extensive waiting list.

The school was really attractive in a way that evoked feelings of tranquility and quaintness. It was nothing at all like the massive, expansive schools found at large colleges. It seemed like something you'd see on a postcard because it was nestled between the Potomac River and the teeny-tiny, historically significant town of Shepherdstown. There were traditional-looking buildings with steeples mingled in with more contemporary ones. All around were trees. Fresh, uncontaminated air and the ability to reach everything one would need on foot. On days when the weather was good, I could actually walk, or at the very least, park on West School to avoid having to pay the meter.

After providing my details for the waiting list, I walked back to my car while taking in the pleasant wind and enjoying the sunshine. In contrast to this morning, when I was already racing behind schedule, I had the opportunity to look at the residences on the walk to the train station. The front porches of three adjacent houses were always packed with young men of college age. Most certainly the equivalent of fraternity row at this educational institution.

One of the guys looked up, holding a beer in his hand. After smiling, he turned around just in time to avoid being hit in the back by a football that had flown out of the open door. A flurry of curses ensued.

Definitely the row for the fraternities.

As I sped up the speed and hurried passed the houses, the muscles in my back tightened. I came to a crossroads, got out of my car, and was about to cross a tiny road when I was almost hit by a silver truck. It was one of those large trucks, possibly a Tundra, and it was speeding onto the road. The sudden stop caused a flutter in my chest as my route was abruptly blocked.

I was bewildered, so I retreated one step onto the curb. Was I going to get a lecture from the driver?

I was about to fall on my face when the tinted glass in the passenger compartment rolled down.

Clinton Morgan beamed a grin at me while he was driving with his backwards baseball cap and he was wearing a baseball cap. A few strands of dark hair coiled themselves up and around the band. And there was no shirt on him at all; he was completely shirtless. And from what I was able to view of him, which was only his chest, I must say that it was a very impressive chest. Pecs were visible on this guy's chest. And a tattoo. There was a sunburst tattooed on his right chest, the flames of which trailed back over his shoulders and were colored in brilliant reds and oranges.

"Jenny Pinkman , we meet again."

My desire to interact with him was at an all-time low. I had the worst luck imaginable for a human being. "Clinton Hamilton... hello."

He stooped down and rested an arm on the steering wheel as he leaned over. Correction. He also had some extremely good biceps to complement his physique. "It is time to put an end to these kinds of meetings."

And that was the most accurate statement anyone has ever made. It was important that I refrain from gazing at his bicep... and chest... and tattoo. I never imagined that the light could be so... seductive. Wow. This was a difficult situation.

"You racing over me, me almost running over you?" Exegesis provided by Clint "It's almost as though a disaster is just waiting to befall us," she said.

I was completely at a loss for words in response to that. My thoughts were all over the place, and my mouth felt dry.

"Where are you planning on going?"

"My automobile," I managed to squeak out. "I don't have much more time left," I said. Although this might not be entirely accurate, given that I had been extra liberal with the quarters in order to avoid getting a parking citation, he had no need to be aware of this detail. "So…"

"Then don't be a stranger, my darling. I can offer you a ride."

In a totally strange and perplexing way, the blood that had been on my face began to drain away and flow to other regions of my body. "No. It's okay. I'm at the top of the slope right now. Not at all necessary."

The corner of the smile turned upward, exposing one of the person's dimples. "It's no problem. After nearly hitting you with my car, it's the least I could do for you."

"Thank you, but-"

"What's up, Clint?" Beer Guy leaped down from the porch and started jogging down the sidewalk, giving me a glance as he went by. "What the hell are you doing, man?"

The frat boy came to our rescue.

Clint's eyes never left me, but his smile became less and less genuine as time went on. "It's nothing, Kevin; I'm just trying to strike up a conversation."

I quickly hurried around Kevin to the front of the trunk, giving Clint a little wave as I did so. I didn't turn around to see, but I could sense that he was watching me. My ability to recognize when you are being observed by another person while you are not gazing in their direction has developed over the course of my life.

I had to make a conscious effort not to dash off to the train station because I knew that doing so in front of the same guy for a second time in the same day would take the strangeness quotient to an unacceptable level. Even for me.

It wasn't until I was sitting behind the wheel of my automobile and the engine started humming that I realized I had been holding my breath.

Jesus.

I leaned forward until my head was resting against the wheel and sighed. A potential disaster just waiting to happen? It seemed reasonable enough to me.