Five more pages of The Only One

Chapter 3 Midterms were approaching, which meant a lot more homework and a lot more people showing up for classes. On Mondays I worked in the morning and then headed to American Religious History. It was across the quad from the student center where Brewster’s was located, in the Art building that looked like a giant juicer. It was a decent sized lecture hall, shaped in a half-circle with five rows of desks descending to a lower level where the professor’s podium was located. There was a giant screen behind that where he put up all the lecture slides. I slumped down in an open desk near the back and searched through my bag for a notebook. Most everyone on campus just carried their laptops or iPads so they could play games while the professor lectured, but I still preferred the old pen and paper way. There was something about the feeling of putting pen to paper that I found invigorating. It was probably why I was an English major. I loved writing long hand. I had old journals full of half ass story ideas and notes from classes sitting in boxes back at my mom’s house. Digging through my bag, I finally found a pen, but just as I grabbed it and put it on my desk it promptly rolled onto the floor. “Shit,” I mumbled. I scrambled out of my desk when the pen stopped at a pair of Pumas. “Sorry!” I yelped and reached for the pen. “No prob, Red.” Slowly, I grabbed my pen and when I stood up I met the endless blue pools of John Boy’s eyes. I’d never noticed him in my class before, but then again usually I was busy staring down at my notebook trying to take down notes. “Hey, John.” I tried to regain my composure and sat in my seat. He took the one next to me, a small smile on his face. He pulled a slim Macbook out of his bag and sat it on the desk in front of him. Out of all my classes, why did he have to be in the one I looked like crap for? There he was, looking gorgeous in a gray knit sweater and faded jeans that fit every bit of his form perfectly. The guy had to be literally all muscle. And I had seen a lot of him when he was wearing just the loincloth. I found myself thinking about what was under his clothes and my face heated up from the thought. “So you’re going to call me John now?” He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head down, which just brought out the slight dimple on his chin. God he was too damn attractive. “Um, well that’s your name, isn’t it?” “Yeah, but most people call me John Boy.” “And why is that?” I tapped my pen on my notebook, trying to figure out something to do with my hands. He let out a single laugh. “Just a nickname my pledge brothers gave me freshman year. When your name is John Walden, and it sounds similar enough to Walton, it just sort of happens.” “As in John Boy from the Waltons? The TV show?” I didn’t think anyone under the age of seventy actually knew about that show. I only knew because my grandma was obsessed with it. “It’s basic pop culture. I know you probably think we’re a bunch of dumb jocks who run around with paddles, but we at least know about the Walton mountain.” I swallowed, trying to figure out the right words so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” He nudged my arm with his. “I’m just shitting you. Don’t take life so seriously. You could really stand to loosen up.” “Sorry. I’m not brave enough to walk around a party in a loincloth.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm on my ear. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind it if you did. Or just my bedroom” Every hair stood on end and my body heated up like I took a hair dryer to my skin. The guy certainly knew the right spot to hit. He was definitely trouble. But maybe a good kind of trouble. “So, um, I’ve never seen you in this class before.” I tried to regain my composure and sat up straighter. “Been here all year, but usually I sit in the back. I couldn’t help but notice this head of gorgeous curly hair that’s always near the front taking notes.” His fingers coiled around a strand of my hair that had fallen out of my ponytail and he pushed it behind my ear. “I’m just usually too late to get the seat next to you.” “Oh, um, heh...” I couldn’t think of anything to say and just felt like a blubbering idiot. Thank God I was saved by Professor Marks stumbling into class with two of his grad students behind him. He dusted off his sweater vest and raked his fingers through his mop of gray hair. Our professor may have been one of the goofiest guys, but I liked him. He sounded like Woody Allen when he talked and made the Mennonite migration actually interesting. “Sorry fellow historians, I know I’m late again and you are all just dying to get on to the next American religious movement.” He stepped up to his desk and logged onto the computer, his desktop background popping up on the giant screen behind him. “Have you started your paper yet?” John whispered. “Yeah, I’ve done a little bit of research. What about you?” I kept my eyes on the professor as he pulled up the power point presentation for fear if I moved I would just end up staring at John. Or end up with my lips on his. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if we weren’t in class. “Finished it up the other night. Nothing better than Mormon culture in Missouri.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. His voice didn’t raise with sarcasm, it just kept the same even tone. “Overachiever,” I whispered. “I like to get things done.” I tried to focus on the professor but I couldn’t help paying attention to every move that John made. It was probably a good thing I didn’t know he was in this class before or I would have never been able to concentrate. Every time his fingers touched the keyboard I found myself watching how his hands moved and thinking about how those same hands were on my hips just a few nights before and what other parts of him were pressed against me. I was expecting him to be one of the guys that would just play games or check his Facebook, but he really was paying attention. Maybe he wasn’t the dumb jock I pegged him as. By the time class was over I had barely taken any notes and was hoping there wasn’t something big I missed. I gathered up my stuff and put it in my bag, ready to walk out of class, but then John put his hand on my lower back. I glanced up to meet his pearly white smile. How was I supposed to stay away from the guy that made me melt just from a little smile? “Where you headed, Red?” “I have World Literature over in Brown, you?” He kept his hand on my lower back as we headed down the row and out of the classroom. My whole body was acutely aware of his fingers and I had a feeling every other girl was aware of it as well. A few whispers came from some of the girls that we passed walking through the class and out the doors into the November air. I didn’t even want to guess what they were saying, but from the glimpses of snarled upper lips I didn’t think it was anything good. “I’ve got Algorithms and Data structure over in Ike.” “Say what?” I looked up at him. He tilted his head back, laughing softly. “It’s a computer class. I’m a computer science major.” “Seriously?” I widened my eyes. He had to be messing with me. A guy with a body like his had to be some sort of kinesiology major or something. I’d seen a lot of the computer science majors and they were the type of guys that lived for online gaming, not fine specimens like John Walden. “Man, you don’t give me any credit. Yeah, I’m really a computer science major. Does that surprise you?” “Honestly, yeah. I didn’t think that was your type of thing.” “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to my ear. “And a lot I’d love to show you.” His tongue grazed the very edge of my jaw line, sending a shiver of pleasure all the way down to my toes. “John Boy!” John snapped his head up and I gasped when I saw two buxom blondes in Kappa Beta shirts sauntering in his direction. Just what I wanted to see. Ugh. I had nothing against sorority girls. In fact, Monica was a Kappa Beta at her old school and my sister was a Sigma. But there was just something about the way these two girls puffed their chests out and smiled at John that made my blood boil. “Hey Layla, Hey Lex.” He nodded in their direction and still kept his hand on my back. Good. Showed them that I wasn’t just another random girl. Even though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was. “Do you all know Melanie? She’s Trey’s girlfriend’s friend.” The curlier of the blondes slowly moved her gaze in my direction, blinking hard. “Oh, yeah. You work at Brewster’s, right?” “Yeah. Yeah I do.” I nodded, unsure what I was supposed to say. She turned her attention back to John and scooted closer to him, running her manicured fingers down his arm like I wasn’t even there. “So, did you and Gabe talk about the mixer for Friday night? We’d love to do an exchange with our Alpha boys.” I felt like that was my cue to leave and I slowly tried to slip away, but then John’s hand slinked around my waist, pulling me against him. Even while his eyes were on the girl, I felt that his attention was focused on me. “Yeah. I’ll have Gabe text you or something.” He squeezed my side. “See you, Layla.” He turned me in the other direction and started walking away from the two blondes, who had to be gaping at me. “Trying to get away from me, Red?” “I just need to get to class and you were talking...” He laughed, a low sound that came from deep in his stomach. “You need to chillax a little.” “What?” I raised an eyebrow. The leaves were changing colors and starting to fall off the trees, blanketing the ground in a crunchy array of reds and oranges. If I was by myself I may have gone out of my way to find a particularly crunchy one to step on. But I couldn’t embarrass myself like that in public and especially not in front of John.


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Not sure if you want to add this book because it may be a sequel? This isn't a sequel. It's a companion to The Only Exception. There are some of the same characters, but you don't need to read The Only Exception to read this book.

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