20. Emily

20

EMILY

T he first things to catch my attention were his eyes. Not the color. They weren't different when it came to that. Though I had to admit they were a pretty shade of sky blue. Sometimes a darker navy when he seemed really focused on whatever it was he was looking at.

But like I said, it wasn't the color. It was the way they watched me, trailed my movements across campus like they were locked on their target. Like I couldn't hide from them— him —if I wanted to.

I didn't. Want to.

I liked the way he looked at me as if I was all he saw without even knowing me. It was flattering. To feel like the center of someone's universe. Even if that someone was a stranger. And especially if that stranger was hotter than fucking sin.

Funny, wasn't it? How being attractive gave you a free pass to do something that would seem otherwise threatening.

A handsome football player follows you home and it's romantic. The start of a love story or some Hallmark shit. The nerdy loner does the same thing and you're being featured on Dateline or starring in your very own Lifetime movie.

Truth was sometimes it could be both. I just didn't realize it at the time, struck dumb by the feel of those eyes on me. Otherwise I might not have smiled as wide when he decided to approach me halfway into the fall semester. Or held my breath when it sank in that he was actually talking to me . A nobody. That I hadn't imagined it. I didn't even bother to question the fact he didn't belong on campus anymore.

"Tonight." He told me. Because Cohen Michaels didn't ask. He didn't have to.

I nodded and then he was gone.

The first red flag should have been the fact he never asked me where I lived. Where he should pick me up or even attempted to get my phone number. None of that came to mind as I watched him walk away though.

Instead, I felt lucky. Seen . And girls like me didn't feel that way often. That was the psychology behind it. Behind growing up the way I did with the parents I had. Mommy and daddy issues made for a deadly combination. Throw us in a room with a true predator and we were easy pickings. Like the slowest gazelle trying to outrun a pack of lions.

I didn't have a chance.