at Maya.
“So, Italy. Catch me up.”
“It was life-changing, Grant. I learned so much about art and the Renaissance. I even started painting again like I did freshmen year fall term!”
I think back to when I would see Maya out on the quad painting away with her pastels. “Get out!”
“Yes, my host-mom was a painter and she had a studio she would let me use.”
“Are you going to major in painting?”
“Art History.”
“That’s right. So, you’re just going to paint on the side?”
“I mean…” she shakes her head. “I think it was just a little something I did in Italy. Honestly, I haven’t told many people.”
“But you’re telling me?”
“Well, you’re my special friend.”
Great. Please, I beg you, remind me I’m in the friend zone before eight a.m.
“Can I see some of your paintings?”
“I don’t know…” she hesitates, then takes another sip of her coffee. “I’ll show you my paintings if you show me your journal.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “That journal is…private.”
Definitely cannot have her reading those very personal thoughts. Silly thoughts of a younger version of me who thought that maybe Maya and I could be more than just friends. Foolish thoughts.
I stare at her, and there’s something making her extra sexy right now. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t seen her in seven months. I’m like a pirate who’s been at sea for all that time without seeing a woman.
Well, of course, Greene State has other women.
None of them are Maya, though.
She’s wearing a fuzzy white sweater under her jacket, and while she stares out the window, into the snowy quads, I stare at her pert breasts.
She snaps her head back and narrows her gaze.
“Um…Grant? Were you just staring at my breasts?”
“What? No. I was just…looking at your sweater. You’ve got a new style. Is that Italian?”
“Nice try at changing the subject.” She grins. “I’m not an idiot, Grant.”
“Your breasts look excellent in that sweater, what can I say?”
My heart races, and we look longingly at each other.
“Thank you. You know, I don’t mind you staring at them. It’s fine. Plus, I’m moving into your suite, so you might even catch another glimpse of them. Isn’t there only one shower?”
“Wait…you’re moving into our suite in the quads?”
“Yes. We squeezed one more bed into the room with Alex and April.”
I scrub a hand down my chin. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“You’re telling me.”
We didn’t even have a suite vote on this.
“So…” Maya pauses. “Any new girls in the picture that you’re leaving the Grant Stamp on?”
I furrow my brow. “The Grant Stamp?”
“Yeah,” she grins, leaning forward. “That’s what you do to women. So they never forget you.”
What are you saying, Maya? Are you saying you haven’t forgotten that kiss?
“Hmmm, let me think for a moment about the romances I’ve had,” I say, trying to buy time but I’m pretty sure I just sound like an idiot.
Well…let’s see. I couldn’t even talk to a girl last term without picturing your lips, Maya. So, in a word, horrible.
“I’ve been focused on classes,” I lie, not wanting to admit how into her I am. “And staying in shape for the baseball season starting soon. Women haven’t really been a priority.”
“That’s too bad. Because it really seems like that Grant Stamp lasts forever.”
“You’ve got to fill me in. Who is telling you these things?”
“Well, that senior girl, Vanessa, I think it was, you hooked up with freshman year, fall term. She was actually our study abroad advisor in Italy, and she could not stop talking about you.”
My stomach sinks. “That was a long time ago. It was right then that I came up with the kiss rule.”
“Oh. Wait, what part of the kiss rule?”
“Well, she was obviously into me and that was flattering. I thought if I waited, or if I tried harder, I could be into her, but that just wasn’t the case. But when I look back, I knew from the first kiss, if I was being honest, that it wasn’t a ‘hell yes’ kind of a kiss for me.”
She takes a deep breath, puckers her lips, and then adds, “Kind of like I wasn’t for you?”
I blink a few extra times, then freeze. “Um…you’re saying you weren’t a ‘hell yes’ kiss for me?”
“Yeah.”
My pulse speeds. “Is that what you remember from that night? That I didn’t enjoy kissing you?”
“Yeah. I mean, you didn’t actually say so. You played it off not to hurt my feelings…which is fine. I get it, I mean, I was leaving the next day