Loving the Playboy by S. L. Scott

Author:S. L. Scott [Scott, S. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-940071-87-9
Publisher: S. L. Scott
Published: 2019-06-14T04:00:00+00:00

19

Evan

“You excited or nervous?” Mallory asks, sitting across from me and eating a bowl of cereal.

“Both.” I stand up, my anxiety over the first day of school showing by the full bowl of cereal on the table. “I’ve lost my appetite.” Walking into the kitchen, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

After looking at her watch, she announces, “Time to go, hot stuff.”

Dropping the bottle inside my back pack, I swing it onto my shoulder and stand near the door, waiting on her.

I hear a huff as she grabs her backpack from the floor next to the table. “Hey, there isn’t maid service here. Bowl. Sink.”

“Remind me to find a cleaning service soon then because this cleaning stuff you’re obsessed with sucks.”

She giggles. “Call Ms. Chart to come for a visit. I’m sure she’d be happy to help you interview housekeepers.”

That gives me an idea. “I could ask her to move in here with us. We have the extra bedroom.”

Mallory looks at me, eyes narrows, frown on her face.

“I’m just playing with ya,” I say, teasing. “Why would she leave Hawaii or even New York for the cold and snow of Colorado?”

“Why indeed.”

I take the bowl to the sink and we leave.

While walking to school, I can tell Mallory is lost in thought. I stay quiet and let her think. One thing I’ve learned about her is when she’s ready to talk, she will.

She kisses me in front of the English building before disappearing inside after a quick goodbye. I walk down to the Psychology building and find the auditorium of my first class.

Shifting uncomfortably in my chair, I look around, feeling much older than most of the other students. Maybe I’m feeling the toll life has taken, aged by experience. Makes me feel lucky that most of my credits transferred and I tested out of the other basics or I’d be with a bunch of eighteen-year-olds instead of kids who can at least buy beer.

Thankfully my morning passes by uneventfully. School is just how I remember. I meet Mallory for lunch at a deli near campus. When I walk in, I see her sitting in a corner. Tossing my bag across the seat, I slide in. “Hey there.”

“Hi,” she says, smiling. “How were your first classes?”

“So far so good. No surprises.”

“That’s good. Are they interesting?”

“Yeah, I like them.”

“What about girls?”

“What about girls?” I ask.

She briefly glances out the window then back to me. By the way she’s fidgeting, I think she’s nervous. “Any girls you find interesting?”

“Only one,” I say, reaching across the table and taking hold of her hand, stilling it. “You’re the only girl I’ve got eyes for.”

“Sorry,” she says, looking at our hands.

“For what?”

“For, you know, being ridiculous.”

“I like when you’re ridiculous. Means you think I’m hot.”

That makes her laugh. “I do think you’re hot.”

“Good. Because I think you’re really hot.”

“Okay, silly boy, let’s get back to your day and classes.”

I lean back in the booth. “They’re going to be a lot of work. I can tell.

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