When my eyes return to his, he says, “I simply want to check to see if you are on my list.” His tone is smooth and clear, with no creepy undercurrent woven into it. “What is your name?” he asks me, before waving his clipboard back and forth as if to corroborate his statement.
“Evie,” I reply in a near whisper, noticing that we are definitely the objects of scrutiny from the rest of the freshmen in the group.
He peruses the list of names on his clipboard like a bouncer at an exclusive club. I watch him with cautious fascination, knowing full well that he won’t locate an Evie on the roster, and wait to see his reaction. As his head dips low over the list, his dark hair slips down over one eyebrow. My hand wants to brush his hair back into place, to feel the texture of it. How strange—just a moment ago he was creeping me out and now I want to run my fingers through his hair. Maybe I’m schizophrenic, I think warily as the flutters in my stomach dance wildly.
Looking up from scanning the printout, a smug smile graces his lips as he says, “I am sorry, there does not appear to be an Evie anywhere on my list. You must be in a different group after all.”
No, there is definitely no creepy in his voice now. It’s just the voice one expects from someone this appealing—strong and kind of sexy.
“That’s because my name’s Genevieve Claremont, and I am on your list, about half way down in the second column,” I counter quietly. He locates my name easily. “But my friends call me Evie…” I continue with a hint of a smile that trails off, along with my voice as I become aware that he is again frowning at me.
“So you are…Genevieve,” he replies with polite coolness, while tucking the clipboard under his arm. “We should go now; we’re holding up the group.”
He turns then and walks to the front of the crowd of students. Soon, everyone begins to file out of the auditorium. I follow them into the waning sunlight, shuffling toward the back of my group while praying that this will all be over soon.
CHAPTER 3
Arden Lake
I have heard it said that if you stay in one place long enough, the whole world would eventually pass by you. I’m not sure if I buy that, but if you have four miles to walk to a lake, while stuck behind a bunch of teenage girls, you will hear quite enough gossip about the place you are in, not to mention the people who reside there, to make that world quite interesting. I have already learned quite enough about Reed Wellington, my beautiful sophomore guide with a penchant for rudeness.
According to Christy, the brunette with the sling-back sandals, Reed is on the Crestwood lacrosse team. He is not affiliated with any fraternity house on campus, but he sometimes attends the parties at the Delt house. He doesn’t have a girlfriend on campus, but it’s generally thought that he has a hometown girl because he’s way too hot not to have someone. He has a house just outside of town, but he didn’t grow up there, he was originally from somewhere “out east.” His family is very wealthy, with residences scattered around the globe, but no one knows much about them—they never seem to visit.
I listen intently to the Reed fan club as they dredge up tidbits of salacious gossip and toss it around like one would an urban legend. The girl with the sandals encrusted with Swarovski crystals heard that Reed’s family was responsible for most of the improvements made to the new science wing at Crestwood. She adds that the Dean is constantly trying to get Reed to be an ambassador for the school.
I snort when I hear this. Ambassador of what, ill will? I think as I plod along.
No sooner had I thought that then I feel a nudge in my side as the tree-like person next to me jabs his elbow into my ribs. I look up to see the guy I had hidden behind earlier in the auditorium looking down on me.
“Shoot,” he says with a twang in his voice that instantly gives away his southern roots, “if they keep goin’ on like this all day, I might be in danger of proposin’ to Reed by the end of this walk…and I don’t even fancy men, if y’all know what I mean.”
Grinning at me with two boyish dimples, his warm brown eyes dance. “My name’s Russell, by the way, and before ya ask, I’m from North Carolina, near Asheville,” he informs me.
Clutching my side where there is sure to be a bruise from his well-placed elbow, I laugh at his statement. “North Carolina, huh? What brings you this far north? Let me guess, you just want to experience a Michigan winter?” I ask, seeing him cringe at my sarcasm.
“Ya mean they weren’t messin’ with me when they said y’all get piles of that cold, white stuff that falls out of the sky?” he asks with a twinkle in his eye. “Where’s that recruiter?” he demands, looking around in faux anger.
“I’m afraid I’m not messin’ with you in the least. So, you were recruited to come to Crestwood?” I ask.
“Yeah, football scholarship. Couldn’t have come here otherwise. I got a full ride, and I get to play ball, too. What’s a little snow compared to that?” he asks innocently.
“Let’s see if you can still make that statement in four months, when football is over for the season, and you’re freezing while walking to class,” I say with a wry smile.
“Well, Red, that sounds just a bit pessimistic to me, and I didn’t have ya pegged as a doubter, but I’ll take ya up on yer wager,” Russell says.
“Red?” I ask in surprise.
“Well, ya haven’t exactly blurted out yer name, and ya have all that hair—I thought it was brown when we were in the Sage Center, but now that we’re outside and the sun’s shinin’ on it, I can see that it’s more red—kinda fiery—ah dang, I don’t know—it’s pretty, that’s all,” Russell stammers as a blush stains his cheeks.
“Ah…thanks, I’m Evie,” I reply, feeling a blush creeping into my own cheeks. “We have something in common,” I go on, trying to lessen the awkwardness of the moment. “I’m here on scholarship, too. Full ride academic, couldn’t have come here otherwise,” I say, trying to mimic his drawl and failing miserably.
“Yer the whole package, fittie and smart. Now, I knew there was somethin’ special ‘bout ya, Red. I have a nose for these things,” he smiles, pointing to his nose, which is slightly crooked as if it had been broken once or twice, but reset so that it just adds character to his face.
I’m definitely blushing now from his compliment. “Fittie,” that’s like extreme hotness. I never think of myself that way. He must be a playa or something.
Beneath the clear blue autumn sky, Arden Lake appears around the bend in the road. Following the path that winds its way near the cattails at the edge of the water, I catch a glimpse of the snowy white tents in the distance. They grace a small inlet where the water meets the sky in a hazy blending of shapes and colors. The barbeque appears to be in full swing and the aroma as we near the tents is nothing short of mouthwatering.
“I can’t believe we finally made it,” Russell says, as we get closer to the tents. “Walkin’ behind those girls is like herdin’ cats, ya know. It’s pointless to try to hurry ‘em,” he jokes, and I laugh at the mental picture that represents. “Now when I heard the gal talkin’ ‘bout a barbeque, I have to admit I was a bit skeptical, ‘cuz after all, this is the north and y’all may be unaccustomed to the finer points of the grill. But, I’m feelin’ more and more optimistic the closer we get.” His smile is infectious and I grin back. “Can I buy ya supper?” he asks.