Chapter 6

At a quarter till eleven, Felicity printed off the last page of her term paper from the library computer system and hastily stapled it and her resource list as well as her painting examples to the back. Then she slipped it into a clean, crisp black binder.

She was done. The relief of finishing such an intense research project was immense. She'd been working on this paper for two months, and now she could start on something new for next semester. Felicity left the library and headed toward the classroom building across the narrow sidewalk, tugging her coat up to keep out the cold wind. Her professor always preferred to collect term papers in person in his classroom rather than at his office. She had a sneaking suspicion he enjoyed heightening the tension by making everyone wait in line to hand it to him.

When she arrived at the classroom, a group of students were standing in a small circle showing their papers to each other and muttering as they examined each other's work. Felicity wasn't going to let herself get dragged into that potential drama and let them make her second-guess herself. So she stepped up to the front of the line, her binder ready.

Eyes locked on her as she walked up to Professor Willoughby to hand him her term paper. The middle-aged man leaned back in his chair, feet propped on one corner of the teacher's desk at the front of the classroom.

He was fine-boned, with a rather unremarkable face, except for the way his sudden grins seemed a touch sarcastic. His eyes were always assessing everything around him and reflected back on her with a cleverness that often matched his words. His lectures were actually fun. He cracked historical jokes with a straight face, and only she and a few others seemed to realize that not everything he said was true. Not everyone had figured Professor Willoughby out, but Felicity was pretty sure she had.

"You're sure it's ready?" he challenged, a little smile hovering about his mouth, making the faint laugh lines in his cheeks reveal themselves temporarily.

"Yes. I think I'm okay." She smiled. He was always trying to tease the students and keep them on their toes, but she felt confident of her research. As she left the class, she could almost hear her professor's silent laughter.

Halfway out of the classroom building, her cell phone vibrated. She paused, dug the phone out of her pocket, and checked it.

One new message.

Unknown number: Hey, princess, you left your gown on my bed.

Princess? It had to be Jared. How in the heck­? Layla. She growled. Her best friend had betrayed her. Wasn't that against the girl code? No giving of one's number without permission. Layla was in serious trouble, but she'd deal with her later.

What was she going to do now? Text him back? What could she say? God, she wished she'd done this whole "interact with the male species" before now. If Felicity wasn't so pissed at Layla, she would have texted her and gotten her advice, but that would be such a bad idea to let Layla anywhere near whatever this­thing was between her and Jared.

Her fingers hesitated above the screen. Why was he texting her, anyway? Layla could have easily gotten her dress back to her.

Unknown number: Don't get shy on me now, princess. We did SLEEP together.

She saved his number to her contacts and typed a reply.

Felicity: Is this always going to come up between us?

Jared: You didn't just say that, did you? There are lots of things that can come up between us.

Felicity: I can't believe you just texted that!

Jared: HAHA. I can't believe your mind went there, princess.

Laughter bubbled up from her, and she couldn't contain it, nor did she want to.

Felicity: Is Layla still at your apartment?

Jared: Yeah­why?

Felicity: Tell her she's dead. I'm gonna kill her for giving you my number.

Jared: Haha. Will do. Did you get your paper turned in?

She paused. Her heart skipped a few beats, then rushed to catch up. He wanted to know how her day was? A guy like him was taking time out of his day to ask her if she got her paper completed?

Felicity: It was good, I think. My research and assertions were well thought out.

Jared: I'm sure you nailed it.

The text made her smile, bite her lip, and then she smiled again. He thought she did great. Just thinking about that made her feel good. She didn't dwell on how pathetic it was that she responded so much to his praise.

Jared: You're still a nerd, btw.

The smile on her lips stretched even wider. She would have been offended by anyone else calling her that. But after this morning she could only grin.

Jared: What? No witty comeback?

Felicity: Give a girl time to come up with one.

She tucked her phone in her jeans pocket and headed toward the street so she could hail a cab. It was too cold to make the long walk back to her place. Jared's money still filled her pocket. She hadn't used it, even though she'd been tempted. Boy, had she been tempted. At the curb, she stepped off a step and raised a hand. One of the many yellow cabs waiting for fares skidded into place in front of her. Climbing in, she settled her backpack on her lap and gave the driver her address.

Her phone buzzed again. Another message.

Jared: You have lunch plans?

She rolled her eyes and tapped her phone's keyboard.

Felicity: Don't you have work or something, Mr. Big Shot Lawyer?

Jared: Mr. Big Shot Lawyer. That's your comeback? I gave you plenty of time to think of a good one.

She snickered and then typed.

Felicity: Seriously?

Jared: Seriously. I'm a lawyer. I'm dead serious. And you didn't answer my question.

Felicity: What question?

Jared: Do you have lunch plans?

Why was he asking her that? Did he want her to come over and get her costume during lunch? Probably would be easier for her to do that so he could make it to his own important lawyer lunch or whatever it was lawyers did during lunch.

Jared: Still waiting­

Felicity: No plans. Why?

Jared: Good.

She waited for him to explain. No more texts came through. Disappointment slithered into her, bit by bit. The strange elation she'd experienced during their brief and very odd conversation deflated. It was the first real interaction she'd had with a guy her agewell, close to her age. Jared was a little older, but in a good kind of way.

The cab ride was fifteen minutes long, and yet Felicity was so lost in her thoughts that she only noticed they'd stopped when the cabbie tapped his fare machine and coughed loudly. She handed him her money, even though she was tempted to give him Jared's. They were even, though. And she didn't like taking handouts.

As she got out of the cab, she stared at the eyesore of an apartment complex in front of her. The red brick was chipped and crumbling, and the plaster in the halls was peeling. Inside she knew aromas of urine and booze would linger in the halls. The cracked sidewalk leading up to the building was a clear reflection of the tenants inside.

Home sweet home. After leaving Jared and Tanner's apartment, she felt like a mortal returning from a brief night on Mount Olympus. Back to reality. Her steps slowed when she reached the elevator. A "Broken" sign was taped to the orange-painted metal doors. Three months and the thing had yet to be fixed. She climbed the three flights of stairs to her floor. The overhead lights flickered, buzzing like enraged bees in a low hum.

A tall figure leaned against the wall next to her door at the end of the hall, his back to her. A pool of shadows formed by the lack of hall lights above him made it impossible to see him clearly.

Crap, that wasn't good. Last week the man who lived two doors down from her had gotten jumped by a guy who'd followed him into his apartment and knocked him out. The man had robbed her neighbor and left him bleeding from a nasty head wound for two hours before someone found him and called the police. Ever since then Felicity had been sleeping with one eye open and her cell phone at the ready.

Please, please don't be here to rob me­