Matchplay (3 page)

Lucas gulped then pulled me very close to him, as if he was trying to protect me or shield me from Aaron. When I glanced over at Aaron again, he gave me a wicked little grin then turned and walked away.

When the song finally ended, Lucas released me from his embrace and gazed into my eyes. “Thank you so much for the dance.”

I smiled up at him. “Thank you for asking me.”

“We’d better collect Olivia and get you both back to the dorms. It’s getting late.”

“You’re such a good big brother,” I
teased. Now Lucas was the one smiling.

***

A
t the advice of my academic advisor, my schedule for the fall term consisted mostly of general education classes: English Composition, Statistics for Non-Math Majors, Astronomy for Non-Science Majors, Economics for Non-Business Majors (notice a pattern?) and the first class in my major, Introduction to Art History.

I had always been an excellent student. I knew I’d do well in all of my classes but I was really looking forward to my Art History class. I purchased
eTextBooks online for all of my general education classes but I decided to make a special trip to the bookstore to get my art history text wanting an actual paper book for that class because I knew I would keep it for years.

The bookstore had the
deconstructivist feel of Frank Gehry architecture. The store wasn’t crowded, probably because, like me, most of the students had purchased eBooks online. I was one of only a few students in the stacks of paper text books. I perused the selection of books as I made my way over to the art history section and was immediately enthralled by the selection of art texts. Some of the books I recognized instantly because I already had them in my collection. That made me smile and reconfirmed my decision to major in art history. It wasn’t a choice my dad was thrilled about. As an engineer, he would have preferred for me to major in something more applied and practical but he supported my decision nonetheless.

I ran my hand along the collection of books until I landed on the Introduction to Art History. There were only a few copies on the shelf. As I went to grab one of the copies, another hand reached for it at the exact same moment. I had been so caught up examining the
books, I hadn’t even noticed another person had walked up right beside me.

I turned to see Aaron staring down at me.
He seemed to have gotten hotter looking, if that was even possible. He had on a tight white polo shirt that accentuated his muscular chest and his jeans fit snugly in all the right places. What drew me in, though, where those incredible eyes, dark brown and dreamy. And the guy had magnetism. The only problem was that he knew it and knew how to use it. 

“So we meet again
.” He flashed me an incredibly sexy grin. My heart skipped a few beats. Ugh. How could I be falling right into his trap? There was no way I was going to be one of the many girls on his score card. 

We were still both holding the same text book and staring into each other’s eyes. Neither one of us retreated on either front.

“Why are you taking Art History?” I blurted. Seniors rarely took Intro courses.

He furrowed his brows.
“Why not?”

“You like art?”

“Not particularly.”

That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. It made his enrol
lment in the class even more of a mystery.

“I don’t really get art,” he continued.

“Art is one of the few things I do get.”

He shrugged. “My advisor told me that I wasn’t going to graduate unless I took two arts classes. I had a choice between
art and theater. This seemed like the lesser of the two evils.”

He finally let go of the book and I took it into my arms and held it like a treasured child against my chest. He grabbed another copy from the shelf and flipped it around. It physically pained me to see him treating the book with so little care.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“That book’s expensive,” I said as he continued to flip it around like a soccer ball.

He looked down at my book and the way I was holding it. He placed his book against his chest and mimicked the way I was holding mine. “Is that better,” he mused.

I turned to walk away from him and he grabbed my elbow, “Hey, wait, Sunshine…”

I flew back around, enraged. “I never gave you permission to touch me,” I spewed.

He dropped my arm as if touching me now burned his hand. He looked shocked. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Why did you call me that?” I was still fuming.

“Call you what?”

“Sunshine?” I wondered if he had seen my nametag the other day when we had met and was making fun of me.

“It’s a term of endearment,” he said.

“It’s not funny.” 

When I looked into his eyes, he seemed genuinely confused. Maybe he hadn’t seen my nametag after all.

I could see a hint of sadness cross his face but then just as quickly it was gone. “For once, I wasn’t trying to be funny. There’s just something about you that radiates such passion and joy. Apparently except when I’m around. You just reminded me of sunshine and the nickname seemed appropriate. I didn’t mean to offend you.” 

When I searched his face, he seemed to be genuinely r
emorseful. I felt a twinge of guilt for getting so upset with him.

“My name is Rainy,” I said.
“Rainy Dey.” I spelled my last name for him like I usually did when I met someone new.

He blinked a few times as if he was trying to register what I had just said. Then the corners of his mouth turned up into a small grin. “And I called you Sunshine.”

I nodded.

“You’d never know I had any moves at all
.” 

“Well, you can keep your moves to yourself or save them for some other girl because your chances with me are zero,” I
responded frankly.

“Zero?”
He placed his hand over his heart in mock pain. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m not here to date. I’m here to get an education. Besides, girls like me don’t date guys like you.”

“That’s a lot of negativity to absorb all at once.”

“There’s nothing negative about it. It’s just the truth.”

He gave me an intense stare that seemed to instantly melt whatever coldness I had toward him. His beautiful brown eyes were almost too much to bear.  Then he bit his lower lip and continued staring at me. I felt like I was being put under a spell. He took my breath away.

“We’ll see about that
,” he whispered then he winked at me—again. What was it with all the winking? Whatever it was, it worked, though, because I thought my knees would give out. Then he turned and walked away. 

Three

Ball in Play

I
could feel the excitement building in my chest as I headed for the art building. The class was in a three-hour block on Thursday afternoons. I heard it was scheduled that way to accommodate trips to local galleries and museums. I couldn’t wait for my first college level art class.

I was also going to see Aaron again. I noticed my heart skipped a few beats when I thought of him. Even though he drove me crazy with his over-confidence and large ego, he also intrigued me in a way that no other guy had ever done. Of course, no other male, who looked like Aaron, had ever spoken more than two words to me. I had to admit he was hot even if he did get under my skin.

I arrived fifteen minutes early and took a seat in the empty classroom. Even the instructor hadn’t arrived yet. I sat near the front and middle of the room, right near the isle. I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss a thing.

I opened my text book and looked at some of the pieces that were highlighted.  I was already familiar with most of the work from my own art studies in high school. When I heard giggling, I glanced up to see two pretty girls enter and sit near the back. They were both chatting and laughing. If the school still had sororities, they probably would have been prime candidates.

An older woman entered carrying a stack of books. She looked to be in her mid-50s, with shoulder length grey hair. She was wearing Navy blue slacks and a matching jacket, which were elegant and classy.

She placed all of her books and materials on the desk in the front of the classroom then glanced in my direction. She gave me an incredibly warm smile, which immediately put me at ease.

Several other students, most of them dressed in sweat pants and sweat shirts, filed into the classroom and filled up the back rows with the two pretty girls. I immediately felt awkward being the only student sitting anywhere near the front of the room.

The instructor looked at her watch then cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. Before she could utter a word, Aaron strolled into the room looking as sexy as ever in snug dark jeans and tight fitting polo. Why did he always have to look so good?

He gave the instructor his dazzling smile and she rolled her eyes a bit. She was the first female I had ever seen immune to his charms. I could hear a few whispers from the back of the room as Aaron turned to make his way down the isle of desks. When I looked back at the pretty girls, they were both giving Aaron playful little waves. When I turned back, I saw Aaron nod in their direction. More playful giggles rose from where the pretty girls were sitting. Could they be more obvious in their attempts to garner his attention? I guessed he wouldn’t have any trouble accumulating points for his tournament score card. Girls were practically throwing themselves at him. The thought made my stomach lurch.

As Aaron walked past me, I started to get anxious. His eyes were fixed on me. Even though his expression was neutral, there
was something in those intense brown eyes that gave me little shivers. I expected him to make his way to the back of the room with everyone else but he grabbed the desk immediately behind mine.

He moved his desk up so he was as close to my back as he could get. I gulped
when I felt the heat radiating from his body.

“Good afternoon, Sunshine,” he whispered to me.

I did my best to ignore him but my body betrayed me as his words sent chills right through me.

I heard him chuckle as he leaned back into his seat and I e
xhaled the breath I had been holding since he walked by. 

The instructor’s eyes were glued to Aaron. “Mr. Donovan, if you’re settled in, I assume we can begin class.”

There were a few stifled laughs in the back of the room. Aaron said, “Please, Dr. Griffin, I’m ready whenever you are.”

I found it odd that the instructor knew Aaron. He had been so nonchalant about taking an art class and acted like he didn’t care anything about it.

Dr. Griffin introduced herself and told us about her background and credentials. She had a Master’s degree in Art History from Columbia and a Ph.D. from Yale. I was immediately impressed. Those were elite programs. Programs for which I hoped to one day be considered. I vowed to do everything within my power to impress Dr. Griffin and get an A in her class. Maybe then she would consider writing a letter of recommendation for me for graduate studies.

As Dr. Griffin walked us through the syllabus for the class, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I tried to ignore Aaron but he was insistent and continued tapping me. The last thing I wanted to do
was show disrespect for Dr. Griffin while she was speaking but I got the distinct impression that Aaron was not going to stop until I acknowledged him.

I turned my head ever so slightly toward him. I could see he has trying to hand me something, so I grabbed it and quickly turned back around to face the teacher. I breathed a sigh of relief that she was still looking down at the syllabus and hadn’t noticed the exchange between me and Aaron.

I glanced down to see what he had handed me and it was a round sticker about the size of a tangerine. It was a sunshine image with words around the outside. The words read: Sunshine can brighten any Rainy Dey.

I had to smile. The sticker had obviously been custom made with my name on it. It was a touching gesture. I carefully placed the sticker in the middle of my text book, where it wouldn’t get lost.

After she finished reviewing the syllabus, Dr. Griffin told us that she was going to assign us partners and that we would be working with them the entire term on a final project worth 40 percent of our grade. I silently said a prayer to whoever was listening to pair me with an excellent student as devoted as I was to the class.

“I want to work with Aaron,” one of the girls from the back of the room blurted.

“Who doesn’t,” another girl said.

When I turned to sneak a peek at Aaron, his eyes were dan
cing and it looked like he was trying to stifle a grin. I wondered why he had given me the sticker. There was no way he liked me. I certainly couldn’t compete with the pretty girls in the back of the room.

When I turned back around, Dr. Griffin said, “Okay, enough with the crushes on Aaron. I’m assigning everyone alphabetically to be fair.
And no trading. You stick with your assigned partner. When you graduate and enter the workforce, you’ll be asked to work on projects with all kinds of people. This will be good practice.”

She read off the first two names, “Brett Adams and Monica
Bellsworth.”

One of the pretty girls huffed when she looked across the room and saw a very large guy
ogling her. If he was Brett, she had her work cut out for her. He obviously had more on his mind than the final project.

Dr. Griffin continued, “Rainy
Dey.” She stopped when she said my name aloud as if she was caught off guard by it. It was a common reaction. People were usually surprised by my given name. When a few students in the back chuckled, Dr. Griffin frowned and made a point of saying, “That’s a beautiful name.” She was officially my favorite teacher.

“Rainy, you’ll be paired with Aaron Donovan.”

I could hear one of the girls in the back moan an “Oh, not fair,” but I was frozen with anxiety. How could I possibly work with Aaron all term? How could the fate of my grade in the class rest with someone who said he didn’t care about art? This was a class that could have a major impact on my career if I did well. I debated the sanity of asking Dr. Griffin to pair me with someone else, especially when she had just made a point of telling us there would be no trading partners. I wanted to scream but instead, I just sank into my chair in despair.

After class, I sat for a moment as all of the students filed out.
Rising, I approached Dr. Griffin. She was packing up her books and materials but looked up when she noticed me standing at her table.

I cleared my throat. “I just wanted to thank you for saying I have a beautiful name. That was kind of you.”

She smiled. “I wasn’t just being kind. The name is wonderful. I hope you appreciate it and treasure it as a gift from your parents.”

I had never thought about my name like that before. After years of living with classmates making fun of my name, it was difficult to appreciate it.

Dr. Griffin had such warmth and kindness in her eyes, I felt comfortable confiding in her. “My mom named me. She always liked rainy days. She said they made her feel alive. She died five months ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dr. Griffin said. “I know how diff
icult it is to lose a parent. I lost my father when I was in college.”

I nodded.

Her eyes narrowed and she looked as though she was going to say something else. I waited as she hesitated. Then she said finally, “Aaron Donovan is a complex person. I realize he comes across as arrogant and full of himself sometimes but there’s a lot more to him under the surface.”

I wasn’t expecting her to say something about Aaron and de
finitely not what she just said. I had so many questions but I wasn’t sure what was appropriate to ask.

As if she sensed my uneasiness, Dr. Griffin continued. “I’ve known Aaron his whole life. His father is an old friend of my husband’s. They went to school together. Here, as a matter of fact.”

I nodded still not sure what to say.

“The only reason I’m saying anything is that I noticed you got a bit anxious when I made the pair assignments.”

“School is very important to me, Dr. Griffin. I want to major in art history and eventually earn a Ph.D. like you. I’ve had the same goal since I started high school and I’ve never wavered. I worked very hard in high school to earn a full scholarship and I intend to work even harder in college so I can compete for an elite graduate program.”

Dr. Griffin was smiling at me. “Well, you just made my day. It’s not often that a student tells me she wants to major in art history. Most people in my classes just need an elective to graduate. Let me know if Aaron gives you any trouble and I’ll talk to him.”

I breathed a slight sigh of relief. Maybe having Aaron as a partner would not be as big of a problem as I initially thought.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Griffin. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

When I exited the art building, I was shocked to see Aaron standing near the entrance. He was leaning against the building with his arms crossed over his chest. It looked like he was waiting for someone. I tried to hurry past him but he easily caught up to me and started walking with me.

“Thanks for the sticker. That was nice of you.”

When I looked over at him, he gave me a sly half grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

I kept walking and was surprised that he kept following me. “I’m going back to my dorm room.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“And you’re not invited,” I clarified.

He grabbed his chest dramatically. “You’re breaking my heart.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please, there was a bevy of beauties in the back of the class clamoring for your attention.”

“A bevy, huh,” he chuckled. “Are you sure that wasn’t a band of beauties?
Maybe a flock or a brood or even a throng?”

I stopped and put my hands on my hips. “What do you want, Aaron?”

He gave me a sexy little smile that sent electricity shooting through me. The man was fine, no doubt about it. But no matter what Dr. Griffin said about him, he was still a member of The Clubhouse. I had no interest in being a point on his score card. Or several points, apparently, if he got my V-Card.

“I thought you might want to set up a schedule to work on our final project. It seems to be important to you.”

I nodded. “It’s very important to me.”

“Would you like to meet for a few hours after class every Thursday?”

“And what about dinner?” The class got out at four in the afternoon.

“We can work and have dinner. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

“As long as we’re clear that we’re working and having dinner together is not anything else.”

“Anything else?”
He feigned ignorance.

How stupid was I to think that he would even consider taking me out on a date? Of course, it was just about class work.

“Never mind.” I could feel my cheeks get hot.

He was stifling a chuckle.
Asshole. He really knew how to push my buttons.

Then he leaned in so his lips were nearly touching my ears. Another wave of shivers rushed through me. How did he do that to me so easily and so often?
I felt like I no longer had control of my own body.

“I would never confuse our work together as a date,” he whispered. “Not that I don’t think about taking you out. I think about it a lot. Especially what happens after I walk you back to your
room.”

I gulped. I couldn’t believe Aaron thought about me at all. The idea seemed ridiculous. Then my rational
self reminded me that he was probably just feeding me a line, which he was apparently an expert at, and I had almost fallen for it. Again.