Chapter 5

Savannah — Before She was here.

She was actually doing this.

She was a freshman at college.

She waited in the registration line with Betty, her friend from high school.

Betty was what Savannah’s mom called boy crazy. Even now, Betty had already pointed out three different guys that she’d like to go out with. And they’d only been here for thirty minutes.

Savannah wasn’t looking at boys. Savannah was worried about whether her classes would be filled by the time they finally got up to the registration desk. Being first-time freshmen, they didn’t exactly get first pick of class times.

By the time they got to the front of the line, Betty had struck up a conversation with a guy standing next to her.

“Next.”

Betty waved Savannah off. “You go ahead,” she said. “I’ll take the next one.”

Eager to get enrolled, so they could hit the bookstore, Savannah didn’t hesitate to go ahead.

Registration was completed in booths manned by older students. She went up to the upperclassman and, her hands shaking, handed him the form that had been signed by her advisor.

“You can sit down,” the student worker told her.

She sat on the edge of the seat and watched as he typed in her information.

“Savannah Skye Richards,” he said.

She nodded, glanced at him and returned her eyes to the screen.

“From Birmingham.”

“Yes.”

“That’s only, what, a couple hours away? So you’ll be commuting?”

“No,” she said, “I’ll be living on campus.”

“That’s good.” He clicked the keys. “Your English is closed.”

“Oh no,” she groaned.

“And your math.”

She felt the tears welling in her eyes. Here she was, ready to start classes and couldn’t even get in.

“Hey,” he said, “your biology is good. And I got you in the psychology class. Let me check the history.”

She held her breath.

“Closed.”

“What do I do?” she asked. “I only have two classes?”

“Oh no. We’re not finished,” he said, watching her carefully.

I won’t cry, she repeated over and over to herself.

“I can move your history to 9:00, so that’s done.” He clicked deftly on the computer keyboard. “Then I can put you in the 2:00 English. So I just switched those two out. You’ll like this English professor better. Trust me.”

She turned her eyes to his. And was mesmerized by the deep blue. His smile was kind.

“What about my math?” she asked, a glimmer of hope shooting through her.

“Math always fills up quick,” he said, “Even though no one wants to take it. I’ve yet to meet anyone who actually likes math.”

“I like math,” she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

“No kidding?”

“Yeah. I went to state.”

“No way,” he said. “How did you do?”

“First place,” She began to relax a bit.

He looked back at the computer. “There is seriously nothing open.”

She really needed the math. She had her whole schedule worked out and math was a prerequisite that would put her whole schedule behind.

“Hold on a minute.” He picked up the phone. Spoke briefly to someone on the other end. More tapping on the keyboard. “Alright,” he said. “You are in.”

“But how?”

“I got you an override.”

“You can do that?”

“I’ve found that if I ask only about once every now and then, they realize how important it must be and give it to me.”

He gestured over to the booth next to him where Betty now sat. “She calls ALL the time and only rarely gets an override.”

Poor Betty.

He hit print and said, “I’ll be right back,”

Savannah waited, much calmer now. She was ready to hit the bookstore.

He came back, handed her a printout of her schedule. “Just what you wanted. I only had to switch out two classes, but your times are the same.”

Savannah studied her schedule. Looked up and smiled. “Thank you so much.”

“I’m happy I could help.” He seemed to consider.

“Is this it? What do I do now?”

“The next stop is fee payment.” He leaned back, his expression quizzical. “There is one other thing.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“I’m supposed to go to the orientation dance on Friday.”

She knew there were lots of activities this week, but hadn’t paid much attention. “Ok.”

He laughed. “Will you go with me?”

“I don’t usually go to dances.”

“I don’t either,” he said. “But I kind of have to go to this one. And it’s a good excuse to get to know you better.”

“I’m just a regular freshman.”

“I have a feeling you’re anything but regular. So what do you say? Can I be your escort to the dance?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe I’ll meet you there if I go.”

He swirled around, picked up a flyer from his desk. Handed it to her. “If you change your mind, this is where I’ll be.”

She took the flyer. Glanced at it. “I don’t even know your name,” she said.

He pointed to his Auburn University name tag. “Noah,” he said. “I’m fully vetted.” Then, as though on impulse, he took the flyer back from her, scribbled his name and a phone number. Handed it back to her. “I’ll walk you to your next station,” he said, standing up.

She stood up. “I have to wait for Betty,” she said, glancing at the line of students waiting for their turn at registration. “Besides,” she said. “I think you have a line.”

“All right,” he said, “you win. See you Friday Savannah Skye.”

Betty walked up at that moment. “What happens Friday?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Savannah said, turning and steering her friend away.

“What? Do you have a date with Mr. Hunk?”

“Mr. who? No. I don’t date.”

“Then what?” Betty saw the flyer clutched in her friend’s hand, lifted it enough to see the header. “He invited you to the dance?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I can’t go.”

Betty grinned from ear to ear. “What do you mean you can’t go? We’re freshmen. We have to go.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere but class.”

Betty glued her feet to the ground. “Savannah, president of the high school student class, is not going to go to college and be a hermit.”

“I’m not a hermit.”

“Sounds like it. If Mr. Hunky guy asked me to go to my own dance with him, I would most certainly go.”

“You would go if anyone asked.”

Betty’s eyes widened.

“I’ll think about it,” Savannah acquiesced.

Betty frowned, but started walking again. “I guess that’s something at least.”

Later that evening, Savannah sat in her new dorm room and arranged her desk. Betty, also her roommate, was out, somewhere, with a group of girls who had come by recruiting freshmen. Savannah had waved them off, not paying much attention to where they were going.

She turned on her little lamp and opened each one of her textbooks, thumbing through them in anticipation of the worlds of knowledge they held.

She settled on her biology text and started reading.

After a few minutes, she laughed at herself. Studying the week before classes even began. She got up, stretched, and went to the refrigerator for a soda.

Betty had tacked the dance flyer to the front of the fridge. Savannah took it down, read it for at least the tenth time, and stared at Noah’s name and phone number. A number she had memorized.

She hadn’t gone on a date since her high school prom. Her date, Timothy had gotten drunk, and decided he really wanted to be dancing with Mark. Granted, Mark was a good-looking guy.

But something about having one’s high school prom date coming out on the night of the prom had left her with a slight aversion to dating.

Savannah had never been “boy crazy” anyway. Not that she didn’t like boys. She just preferred to be a little more selective. In fact, she never would have gone to the prom with Timothy if Betty hadn’t insisted that they should double date.

Noah had seemed nice, but she really didn’t have the time to even be thinking about a boy, much less spending time with one.

No, she decided, putting the flyer back on the refrigerator, she definitely would not be going to the orientation dance.

Two nights later, Savannah followed Betty into the student union.

Against her better judgment.

“I really don’t do dances,” she said to Betty for what must have been the fifteenth time, that night alone.

“I know. I was there when the whole senior prom thing fell apart. If anyone is qualified to keep you away from dances, it’s me. But this is college,” Betty insisted. “You have to move on. Get back on the horse.”

Savannah kept her comments to herself. Betty had been dogging her for two days now. She ran her hands along her jeans. Straightened the sleeves of her pink polo. She was actually a little nervous.

She’d agreed to come along to keep Betty company. She didn’t like the idea of her friend walking around campus at night by herself. I’ve really got to get past this. I can’t follow Betty around for four years.

She justified her decision to come along with the newness of college for both of them. As they entered the room, she found herself searching for a glimpse of Noah. Would he really be there? He was an upperclassman. Why would he be at a freshman dance?

Betty went to the check-in desk and presented her ID.

“Savannah,” Betty said, tugging at Savannah’s sleeve. “Show the guy your ID.”

Savannah pulled her ID out of her back pocket and, after glancing at her friend who was grinning like a Cheshire cat, presented her ID.

To Noah.

“Hello Savannah Skye Richards,” he said, without looking at her ID card.

She felt the flush in her cheeks. The very person she’d been searching for was sitting right in front of her.

He leaned over, whispered something to the girl sitting to him, and pushed back his chair. He was tall – at least six feet. He came around the table, nodded to Betty. “I’ll show you around,” he said, turning his attention back to Savannah.

“I’ll get something to drink,” Betty said, bouncing off toward the concession area.

Frowning, Savannah watched her friend desert her.

“I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again,” he said.

She met his gaze. “You had my address, not to mention my class schedule.”

“True,” he said, “But that would be stalking. I’m not saying I never would have used it, but I was hoping not to have to.”

“Why?” she asked simply.

“You’re the only girl I ever met who likes math.”

She scoffed, turned away. “That’s not a good reason.”

“Ok,” he said, putting his hands up. “You got me. I don’t have a reason.”

She turned back to him. “You’re a strange man, Noah Worthington.”

He broke into a wide smile.

She couldn’t help it. She smiled back.

“Savannah,” he said, taking her hand. “Just give me a chance.”

With Chicago blasting in the background, they made their way around the crowded floor to an empty table.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she asked, leaning close so he could hear.

“I was just here to help out if they need anything. It was just an excuse so I wouldn’t look like a weirdo stalking freshman girls. So I was hanging out. Waiting for someone to show up.”

“Just anyone.”

“No, I had the possibility of a date.”

“What were you going to do if I didn’t show up?”

“I was planning to stay about thirty more minutes, then head home. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“I wasn’t.”

“But you’re here.”

“I just came to keep Betty from being out after dark by herself.”

“You really know how to boost a guy’s ego.”

She laughed. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok.”

“You don’t have a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Are you a senior?”

He nodded “It’s my last year.”

“In…”

“Aviation.”

Noah had been cool before, but now he was… out of her league.

“You should definitely have a girlfriend.”

“I agree.”

“But not a freshman just out of high school.”

“I don’t see anything but college girls here.”

Her lips curved into a smile. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “However, I maintain my stance.”

“Tell me your major again.”

“I’m undeclared.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “And as a very wise senior, I think you should declare a very lofty major.”

“Something akin to aviation?”

“Nah. You’re not the mechanic type. You need something more abstract. Like law.”

“My uncle’s a lawyer. It’s overrated.”

“How about psychology?”

“Maybe,” she said. “I looked at it. But there’s only one math.”

“Yeah, the math thing. They have statistics.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Yes, I will.”

“I don’t want to spend our whole first date talking shop.”

“When did this become a date?” She looked around at the awkward freshmen, just getting their footing in the college world.

When he didn’t answer, she turned back. His face was ever so close. He placed his fingers on her cheek and his thumb next to her mouth. Then his lips were pressed softly against hers.

Time froze as she absorbed the sensation of having his lips against hers and his fingertips on her skin.

As the Chicago song ended and faded into the next, he pulled back. “Now,” he said. “Now it’s a date.”