Her history class was interesting enough though, and she met a few more people at the library prior to the class. Before she knew it, she was heading back to the parking lot utterly exhausted. Not really looking where she was going, and more than a little glad that the first day was finally over, she almost tripped over the pair of long denim-clad legs leaning against the side of her car. Her heart double-tapped as her brain drank in the way his gray rugby shirt clung to his shoulders and matched his eyes. His tousled blond hair shone gold in the fading sunlight.
Victoria berated herself for feeling any degree of pleasure upon seeing him after the way he'd treated her earlier but she couldn't disregard the sudden increased tempo of her heart or the sudden trill of her blood. Nonetheless, she tried to project a look of distracted boredom, as she stepped over his legs and unlocked her car.
"Oh, hello. Christian, was it? Are you lost?"
"I guess I deserve that," he said without rancor. "Here, let me help you with those books." Before she could protest, he'd placed her things in the backseat of the car, and then stood up to face her. "I really want to apologize for what happened in the music hall earlier today. I was upset and taking it out on the piano, and then you arrived. I'm sorry. It has nothing to do with you. I was just ... frustrated."
"Why?" she said, distracted by his absurdly luxurious lashes as she tilted her head to look up into his face. She was five foot eight inches and still had to arch her neck to look at him properly.
"There's been a change in the funding for my program, and there's a chance that it will be revoked completely," he said. "I'm a student here," he added helpfully.
"In music?" she asked before she could help herself. "I mean, I saw ... I heard you playing. You're not bad."
A smile. "Thank you. No, not music, cultural studies."
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry about your program."
"It's one of those wait and see situations."
"I hope it works out then," Victoria said politely, wanting nothing more than to escape his nearness as she reached back to close the passenger door of the car. He reached forward at the same time and their hands met. A jolt of electricity passed between them that made her want to wrench her hand away. Her blood raced as tiny pins and needles surged across her entire body from the one single touch. For a second, she forgot how to breathe.
Christian stared fiercely into her eyes, the warring emotions in hers reflected in his, and she swallowed, hypnotized by something completely outside of herself. She felt her body sway toward him. He took a deep, steadying breath and released her fingers, stepping back at the same time. A practiced, shuttered mask fell into place.
Victoria jerked back, mortified at her body's heated response. She swallowed, her distressed gaze drawn by an imperceptible movement of his mouth. A fleeting vision of what it would feel like to be kissed by him ran through her head and heat ballooned in her chest. Unbearably warm, she too stepped back, staring at his impassive, granite face. Every part of her wanted to read his mind, as she'd done so easily with others earlier in the summer.
What are you thinking?
As if the thought magically translated into action, a part of her subconscious leapt forward to obey the instinctive command. It was like hitting a brick wall head on.
Christian raised an eyebrow. He had felt it! He'd felt her trying to read him! Emboldened, Victoria accepted the unspoken challenge and pushed harder. The wall didn't budge. His mouth twitched, and for some reason, his amused arrogance infuriated her so much that without thinking, she gathered the already agitated energy swirling within her and hurled it toward him.
Christian went flying back three feet before crashing to the hard asphalt. He was on his feet in seconds.
"What the hell was that?" he said. She was frozen in shock.
"I have no idea," she said, then immediately contrite, she asked, "I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?"
"No." His voice was flat, cold.
"Well, you're the one who asked for it," she said, hiding her horror and remorse behind a show of bravado. She wasn't sure whether to kick him or apologize. And now, blast it, he knew that she could do things—strange, freakish things that would no doubt have him running in the opposite direction.
Only he wasn't running ... he was staring at her with an odd, appraising expression. He stepped forward, his face relaxed but wary, his fingers barely brushing a tendril of hair that curled into her face.
"Don't worry, Tori, your secret is safe with me." He paused, as if considering his next move. "I'll forgive you on one condition."
"What's that?" she asked, stunned into silence by his gentle caress.
"Dinner. Saturday night."
"You're asking me on a date?"
"I would say tomorrow but my back just isn't up to it," he said, deliberately misunderstanding her question and pressing his hands into his lower back. He grimaced. Almost immediately, he saw the guilty flush steal up to her cheeks and he knew she would agree, if only out of misplaced remorse.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because we got off on the wrong foot, and I'd like to make amends."