The second the phone exchanges hands, she creeps back toward the door.
“You don’t have to stand all the way over there,” I say dryly. “Unless you’re debating making a run for it?”
Her cheeks turn pink.
Grinning, I swipe the phone screen and pull up the keypad. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’m just using your phone. I’m not going to murder you.”
“Oh, I know that. Or at least I think I know that,” she stammers. “I mean, you seem like a decent guy, but then again, lots of serial killers probably seem decent too when you first meet them. Did you know that Ted Bundy was actually really charming?” Her eyes widen. “How messed up is that? Imagine you’re walking along one day and you meet this really cute, charming guy, and you’re like, oh my God, he’s perfect, and then you’re over at his place and you find a trophy dungeon in the basement with skin suits and Barbie dolls with the eyes ripped out and—”
“Jesus,” I cut in. “Did anyone ever tell you that you talk a lot?”
Her cheeks are even redder now. “Sorry. Sometimes I babble when I’m nervous.”
I shoot her another grin. “I make you nervous?”
“No. Well, maybe a little. I mean, I don’t know you, and…yeah. Stranger danger and all that, though I’m sure you’re not dangerous,” she adds hastily. “But…you know…”
“Right. Ted Bundy,” I supply, fighting hard not to laugh.
She fidgets with her braid again, and her averted gaze gives me the opportunity to study her more closely. Man, she really is pretty. Not drop-dead gorgeous or anything, but she has a fresh-faced, girl-next-door look that’s seriously appealing. Freckles on her nose, delicate features, and smooth, creamy skin right out of a makeup commercial.
“Are you going to call?”
I blink, suddenly remembering why I came inside in the first place. I look down at the phone in my hand, and now I’m examining the number pad as intently as I was examining her moments before.
“Here’s a tip—you use your fingers to dial, and then you press send.”
I lift my head, and her barely restrained grin summons a laugh from my throat. “Great tip,” I agree. “But…” I let out a glum breath. “I just realized I don’t know his number. It’s saved in my phone.”
Shit. Is this my punishment for inappropriately fantasizing about Garrett’s girlfriend? Getting stranded on a Friday night with no phone or ride home? I guess I deserve it.
“Fuck it. I’ll call a cab,” I finally decide. Luckily, I know the number for the campus taxi service, so I dial that instead, only to be placed on hold immediately. As elevator music chirps in my ear, I smother a groan.
“You’re on hold, huh?”
“Yup.” I glance over at her again. “I’m Logan, by the way. Thanks for letting me use your phone.”
“No problem.” She pauses. “I’m Grace.”
A click sounds in my ear, but instead of the dispatcher’s voice coming on the line, there’s another click followed by another swell of music. I’m not surprised, though. It’s Friday night, the busiest night for the campus taxis. Who knows how long I’ll have to wait.
I sink down on the edge of one of the beds—the one that’s perfectly made—and try to remember the number for the cab service in Hastings, the town where most of the off-campus housing is, including my townhouse. But I’m drawing a blank, so I sigh and endure some more elevator music. My gaze drifts to the open laptop on the other side of the bed, and when I notice what’s on the screen, I look at Grace in surprise.
“Are you watching Die Hard?”
“Die Hard Two, actually.” She looks embarrassed. “I’m having a Die Hard night. I just finished the first one.”
“Do you have a thing for Bruce Willis or something?”
That makes her laugh. “Nope. I just like old action movies. Last weekend I watched the Lethal Weapon franchise.”
The music in my ear stops again, then starts over, bringing a curse to my lips. I hang up and turn to Grace. “Do you mind if I use your computer to get the number for the taxi service in Hastings? Maybe I’ll have better luck there.”
“Sure.” After a beat of hesitation, she sits next to me and reaches for the laptop. “Let me pull up a browser for you.”
When she goes to minimize the video, the movie unpauses, and sound blasts out of the speakers. As the opening fight scene in the airport fills the computer screen, I immediately lean closer to watch it. “Oh shit, this is such a great fight sequence.”
“I know, right?” Grace exclaims. “I love it. Actually, I love this whole movie. I don’t care what anyone says—it’s awesome. Obviously not as good as the first one, but it’s really not as bad as people think.”
She’s about to pause the movie, but I intercept her hand. “Can we finish watching this scene first?”
Her expression fills with surprise. “Um…yeah, okay.” She visibly swallows, adding, “If you want, you can stay and watch the whole movie.” Her cheeks flush the moment she voices the invitation. “Unless you have somewhere you need to be.”
I think it over for a second before shaking my head. “Naah, I have nowhere else to be. I can hang out for a while.”
Really, what’s the alternative? Go home to watch Hannah and Garrett hand-feed pizza to each other and sneak kisses during the movie?
“Oh. Okay,” Grace says warily. “Uh…cool.”
I chuckle. “Were you expecting me to say no?”
“Kind of,” she admits.
“Why would I? Seriously, what guy turns down Die Hard? The only thing that could sweeten this deal is if you offered me some booze.”
“I don’t have any.” She stops to think. “But I’ve got a whole bag of gummy bears hidden in my desk drawer.”
“Marry me,” I say instantly.
Laughing, she wanders over to the desk, opens the bottom drawer, and, sure enough, pulls out a huge bag of candy. As I slide up the bed and lean back on the stack of pillows at the head of it, Grace kneels in front of the mini-fridge next to the desk and asks, “Water or Pepsi?”
“Pepsi, please.”
She hands me the massive bag of gummy bears and a can of soda, then settles on the bed beside me and positions the laptop on the mattress between us.
I shove a gummy bear in my mouth and focus my gaze on the screen. Okay, then. This definitely wasn’t the way I expected this evening to go, but hell, might as well roll with it.
3
Grace
John Logan is in my dorm room.
No, John Logan is on my bed.