The Endless Road to Sunshine - Nicky James Page 0,16
he hit the down button, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. “I’m walking on sunshine…” I sang, woo-oohing and shuffling in place.
Hunter tore out my earbud and shoved me playfully into the elevator as the doors opened, laughing. “You and your sunshiny ass are too much. For real, how have you survived this long without someone murdering you?”
“You love me.”
I tucked my earbud back into my ear and kept singing and dancing, ignoring Hunter’s weak attempts to look annoyed. When the elevator hit the parking level, I hooked my arm through his and forced him to sway along with me as I guided him toward my car.
He tried to protest, but I caught him smiling.
“I hate you. No one should be this perky at seven thirty in the morning.”
I looked pointedly at him. “No one should be this miserable.”
“Get me coffee, and I swear I’ll be better. I might even consider sparing your life.”
I drove us to a nearby drive-through. I hooked up my music through the Bluetooth, and Hunter knew better than to try to turn it down. For all his grumbling, he secretly enjoyed my energy.
Once he had an extra-large dark roast in hand, I caught him mouthing along to the lyrics and bobbing his head as he watched out the window. My music wasn’t as offensive as he tried to make me believe, nor was I. We worked in one of Windsor’s biggest dance clubs, so loud music was par for the course.
I found the closest parking spot I could once we got to the right section of campus, and we headed toward our class.
“I think this one sounds cool as hell,” Hunter said as he scanned the syllabus he’d pulled up on his tablet as we walked.
While selecting a collection of interesting classes, Hunter and I had both decided criminal psychology was a sure bet. Maverick had told us we were nuts. Who wanted to study the behaviors of serial killers and learn what made them tick? Our answer to that had been: Who doesn’t?
The three of us had a few shared courses of interest and many that clashed. Maverick had decided on a film study course of some kind that sounded horrifically boring, but I wouldn’t judge. If it was of interest to him, so be it.
The lecture hall was crowded. Hunter tugged my arm, dragging me to a pair of available seats a few rows down from the back. The buzz of conversation filled the room as people waited for class to start. Hunter continued to flip through the course outline, which I’d read the other day. While he looked, I scanned the room.
That was when I saw him, sitting at the back of the lecture hall in a spot near the doors.
“Dude.” I smacked Hunter’s arm. “Look. It’s Mr. History himself.”
“What?” Hunter peeled his eyes from his tablet and followed my gaze. “What the hell is he doing here? He’s not teaching this class. It says the professor is Dr. Natalie Vescovi.”
“No clue.” I didn’t know why Dr. Jaxon Palmer was there, but he seemed to be trying hard to keep a low profile, sinking down in his seat and scowling as he scanned the room.
“Man, that guy looks perpetually pissed off,” Hunter said.
“He does give off an ice-man vibe, doesn’t he? I mean, don’t get me wrong, he also oozes sexiness right out his pores.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“I know.” I sighed. “He’s just so damn dreamy I can’t help it.”
“Dreamy? He looks like he has a cactus stuck up his ass.”
I snorted and smacked Hunter’s shoulder. “He does not.”
“He does so. Look at him. He’s scowling and angry. He looks evil.” Hunter’s eyes blew wide behind his glasses. “Ohmigod, dude. What if he is totally a real serial killer and he’s here to learn more about what compels him to do what he does?”
I laugh-snorted and covered my mouth. “Please. He’s not a serial killer. He’s probably just miserable because he hasn’t had sex in like a decade.” I paused, tipping my head to the side to examine the gruff history professor. “I could help him with that.”
“Down, boy. Don’t run off and hump the evil professor’s leg just yet. You’ll end up tied up and gagged, and I’m not rescuing you.”
I quirked a brow, shifting my focus to my friend. “I fail to see how that would be a bad thing.”
Hunter fake gagged. “Okay. I don’t need to know your bedroom fantasies.”