A Season for Hope (Sarra Cannon) (9 page)

So of course that was the day I ran into Preston. He looked gorgeous and happy and completely unaffected by our breakup.

I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide, but by the time I saw him, it was too late. He’d already seen me and was making his way over to talk to me.

I’ll never forget the look of pity in his eyes or the way he casually touched my elbow and asked if I was doing okay. I lied and said I was doing fine, but there was no way he believed me.

I vowed then and there to a) avoid him at all costs until I could pull myself together and b) to always leave the house looking pristine and gorgeous, just in case.

Still, even when I look perfect, nothing has been able to mask the sadness in my eyes.

It’s gotten better with time, but the sadness returns every time he talks to me. I don’t want Judd to see that. I also don’t really know how I feel about Preston seeing me with another guy. No matter how much I like Judd, Preston was my heart for years and I don’t want to see him until I know I can look at him without feeling sad and broken.

“Everything okay?” Judd asks as he pushes the door to his apartment open. He follows my gaze toward the parking lot and a hint of sadness crosses his features.

Crap. He knows. Of course he knows. If he’s been living here, he surely knows who parks in that spot.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I say, pushing past the awkward feeling in my stomach as I walk into his apartment.

It’s definitely a bachelor’s apartment, but not as bad as it could be. The furnishings are sparse and there aren’t any pictures or anything on the white walls, but at least it’s not messy like most guys’ places. The only Christmas decoration is a sad looking little tree on the kitchen counter.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says. “It’s not much, but it’s part of my scholarship, so it’s home for at least a few more years.”

“It’s great,” I say. “Much nicer than my apartment.”

Even with a roommate and a part-time job, I couldn’t afford to live on this side of town. The rent here is more than $1200 a month. I know because I really wanted to live closer to Preston and looked into it when he first got his own place.

“I don’t know about that,” he says. “I don’t have much furniture here, but it’s comfortable and I like having the space.”

“Do you live here alone?” From the looks of it, it’s a two-bedroom apartment, but I don’t see any signs of a roommate.

“Yep,” he says. “I set up an office in the second bedroom, but I hardly ever use it. I prefer The Cup. Better view.”

He smiles at me and I’m blushing again. How he can think I look good in my work uniform is beyond me. And just how long has he been noticing me?

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” I ask.

Unlike yesterday, today I came prepared. I brought a change of clothes so I wouldn’t be stuck in my t-shirt and black pants. Besides, when I get off work, I always stink of coffee.

Without taking a shower,there’s not much I can do about the coffee smell since it’s in my hair and pretty much soaked into my pores, but at the very least I can change my clothes and put on some fresh makeup.

“No problem,” he says. “Do you want some hot chocolate or something?”

“Anything but coffee,” I say as I disappear into the bathroom with my bag.

I move as quickly as I can, pulling my hair out of its long braid and brushing it. The braid has given it a bit of a pretty wave, so I decide to just put a quick clip in it to hold it out of my eyes, but leave it mostly down.

I freshen my makeup and quickly change into a pair of jeans and a sweater that hugs my curves in all the right ways.

I brush my teeth, stuff my dirty clothes deep into my bag and head back out into the living room.

Judd is sitting at the small table in his living room. There are two steaming cups of hot chocolate sitting out and he has his books spread in front of him. He’s leaning over one of the books, a highlighter in his hand, his hair falling across his face.

He’s so different from Preston and watching him now, it occurs to me all over again. Preston never wanted to study together. He said he preferred to study alone because I talked too much.

Watching Judd now, I wonder how long it will take before I stop comparing him to Preston.

So far, he seems to be a better match for me than Preston. I feel like I can be myself around Judd without all the pressure of trying so hard to make him happy. He’s just happy to simply be around me and that thought creates a beautiful new hope in my heart.

Maybe Monica was right. Maybe there really is someone out there for me.

Maybe he’s been right here in front of me this whole time.

Chapter Sixteen

Judd looks up and smiles.

“Wow, you look great,” he says, standing. His eyes travel down the length of my body.

He pushes his long dark-blond hair behind his ear and pulls out the empty chair across from him. “I made some hot chocolate, but there’s bottled water and soda in the fridge if you want something else.”

He’s so nice to me, I can hardly stand it. I’m not used to this kind of attention at all. Not that Preston was a bad guy or anything, but he never really treated me like this. Most of Preston’s gestures came from extravagant gifts and flowers, particularly when he’d done something to upset me. Judd just seems to be a super nice guy all the time. It’s almost difficult to trust it. Like I’m waiting for him to suddenly turn all Mr. Hyde on me and start screaming at me for something stupid and irrational.

I sit down and rummage through my backpack for the books I brought, then lay them out on the table along with my laptop.

“What’s first?” he asks, then leans over the back of my chair. His hair falls down across my cheek and I inhale the scent of his shampoo. He smells woodsy and fresh, like he just showered moments before he picked me up.

I shiver from his closeness, knowing that all I’d have to do is turn my head and our lips would almost touch.

I clear my throat and try to concentrate on the material in front of me. Good guy or not, he’s hot and there’s something about him that makes my body tingle.

“Um, statistics?” It comes out as more of a question than an answer. Why do I always feel so nervous and mixed up around him? I’m either running into doors or knocking shit over. It’s a miracle he’s even interested in me at all. “You?”

“Fundamentals of Immunology,” he says.

I raise my eyebrows and suck in a breath. This guy is light-years ahead of me in the smarts department. Surely I can’t really be the kind of girl he’s looking for.

“What year med student are you, anyway?”

“First year,” he says. “I haven’t really been in Fairhope very long.”

That would make him probably around twenty-two or twenty-three years old, I’m guessing. Still, he seems so much more mature than most of the guys I know. Maybe that comes partially from losing his brother.

“You’re a junior, right?” he asks. He moves back around the table to sit down across from me.

I relax slightly now that he’s not hovering over me with his lips practically within kissing distance.

“Yeah,” I say. “And I’ll still be one this time next year if I don’t start studying. I’m honestly not exaggerating when I say I’m on the cusp of failing half my courses this semester.”

I don’t elaborate on the fact that it’s more from my lack of going to class than it is my lack of understanding the subject matter.

“Okay, I get it,” he says with a sly smile. “We better get to work. Would you rather listen to music or have it quiet in here?”

I almost always study with my headphones in and my iPhone blasting music. “I like music, but if you like it quiet, I can just put my headphones in,” I say.

“I like music, too,” he says. “I’ll just turn on one of my play-lists and you can let me know if you want to hear something else.”

I nod and pretend not to stare as he fiddles with the stereo behind him. Still, he’s bent over and wearing a pair of very sexy jeans that show off his muscular legs and ass. How can I be expected to do anything but stare and drool?

I’m beginning to wonder if this studying together thing was really such a great idea. As much as I want to spend time with him, I really do need to pass these finals with flying colors. My parents will kill me if I flunk any classes and have to retake them. They aren’t poor or anything, but it’s not like they have a bunch of money lying around, either. They agreed to pay for my tuition as long as I keep my grades up, but if I fail I don’t know what they’ll do.

They know how upset I’ve been over this breakup, but I’m not sure it will be enough to excuse a whole semester down the drain.

There’s no way I’ll be able to pay my own tuition with the little bit I make at The Cup. I can barely pay the rent most months as it is. I have no choice but to buckle down so I can ace my finals.

Judd gets the music started and I’m surprised to hear he’s chosen Classical music instead of rock.

“Mozart,” he says. “It’s good for your brain and for remembering things. At least that’s what I’ve read.”

I shrug and decide to give it a shot. I could use all the help I can get right now.

We settle into a happy silence as we both dive into our books, but after a few minutes, his foot brushes mine under the table. When I look up to see if he did it on purpose, he smiles.

Chapter Seventeen

It’s dead week on campus and for the next few days, Judd and I spend every chance we get together. We study, walk on the beach, eat more than our fair share of hotdogs, and spend a couple of nights snuggled under Big Blue, watching the waves crash on the shore.

I gradually fill his apartment with little Christmas baubles. My own apartment is always overflowing anyway.

“You must really love Christmas,” he says when I walk through the door with yet another strand of lights and a plastic snowman.

“Doesn’t everyone?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. He simply smiles and watches as I hang the lights. “If you could have one Christmas wish this year, what would it be?” he asks.

I bite my lip and look up toward the ceiling. That’s a tough one.

“I wish it would snow,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow and I shrug.

“I know it’s impossible,” I say. “But I’ve always dreamed about snow on Christmas. There’s just something magical about it, don’t you think? Only, it never snows in Fairhope. Ever.”

“Maybe this year,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “This is a magical year.”

We’ve been doing a good job studying when we have to, but our evenings usually end up with us finally giving in to our desires and making out on the couch. It’s getting more and more difficult to be careful with my heart.

When I’m working, he always stops by to study, and I’m getting spoiled by all the attention.

With Preston, I always felt like I was begging for his attention. When I wanted to hang out, it was always me calling him first or asking what he wanted to do. If he had a big family function, it was always me asking if I could come. Even with the Christmas Memories Charity Ball, I was the one who had officially asked him if he wanted to go with me or not. I learned the hard way that unless I nailed things down early, Preston would never make plans to spend time with me.

Every once in a while, as much as I hate it, thoughts of Preston invade my brain. Most of the time, it’s as if my brain and my heart want to make simple comparisons between the two guys. If Judd opens the door for me, I think about how Preston always did that too. If Judd tells me I look beautiful when I’m wearing something simple like yoga pants and a tank top, I think about the fact that Preston never commented on how I looked unless I was dressed up for a special occasion.

I know it’s not exactly a competition, but in most areas of comparison, Judd is winning by a mile.

He’s sweet and thoughtful. He always compliments me and pays attention to me. He asks me for my opinion and seems to really care what my answer is.

So why am I even still thinking of Preston at all?

“It’s like wearing in a new pair of shoes,” Monica says the following Sunday afternoon when I bring it up. She’s sitting on the couch and I’m in the kitchen making Christmas cookies. “If you adored your old shoes and they were super comfortable after a few years of wearing them, it’s only natural to be hesitant to really believe the new shoes could ever be as good. You kind of have to wear them in a bit. Get comfortable with how nice and shiny and new they are. When you finally start to appreciate the new shoes for how great they are, that’s when you start to see the flaws in the old ones. The holes. The scuffs. All the problems.”

“The shoe analogy isn’t really doing it for me,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying it’s only natural for you to compare them. I mean, you loved Preston, right?”

I shrug.

This is something else I’ve been giving a lot of thought to these days. Did I really ever love Preston? Or did I love the idea of him?

When we first got together in high school, capturing his attention was more like a game. I was immature and jealous of everything Leigh Anne did. I wasn’t out to hurt her. Not intentionally, anyway. But I wanted him because he was the cutest, richest guy in school. He was the one everyone wanted. So I wanted him, too.