“Whoa,” I said. “You okay, sweetheart?”

No response for about a half minute, and I started to get real concerned. Then she dragged in a deep breath, causing her chest to rise flush against mine. I froze at the feel of her curves. Definitely not a middle schooler, unless they were developing in ways they hadn’t when I was there. And, if so, I was fucking envious of those boys.

Okay, now I felt like I needed a shower, because even that disturbed me.

Was I still drunk from last night? I was going to go with a yes.

“Hey,” I tried again, voice lower. “Are you okay?” When there was still no response, I pressed two fingers under her chin. Her skin was soft and too cool. Wondering if it was possible for a person to pass out and remain standing, I gently lifted her head, my mouth opening to ask her again, but words died somewhere between my brain and my mouth.

I blinked, because like a total dumbass, I thought that would change what I was seeing. Not that I wanted to change what I was seeing, but damn. . .

What guy didn’t have a soft spot for a redhead?

Pretty was too weak of a word to describe her. Her eyes were large and the color of warm whiskey. Freckles dotted the bridge of her small nose and her cheeks were well defined. Lips were a sweet cherry color and wide for her face, full and plump. The kind of lips that belonged to the kind of mouth that could and would bring a man—

“Let. Go. Of. Me.”

The hardness of her voice, laced with barely controlled panic, caused me to immediately drop her arm and take a healthy step back.

She swayed a little at the loss of support, and I almost reached for her again, but I valued my balls. One day I’d like to have a kid or some shit, and I had a feeling if I touched her again, that would not be in my future.

Pushing strands of thick hair out of her face, she cautiously stepped away from her bag. Thick lashes specked with red lifted, and, for a moment, neither of us moved and then her gaze moved over my face and then down. Chick was blatantly checking me out.

Perhaps my balls weren’t in danger.

A pretty pink flush spread across her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I was in a hurry to get to class. I’m late and . . .”

I grinned as I knelt down, gathering up the spilled items. How one girl could have so many damn pens was beyond me. Blue. Purple. Black. Red. Orange. What the fuck? Who wrote with an orange pen?

She joined me, grabbing the rest of her pens as her head tilted in a way that a wall of coppery hair shielded her face. “You don’t have to help me.”

“It’s no problem.” I picked up a slip of paper that turned out to be her schedule. Quick glance at the classes confirmed she was a freshman. “Astronomy 101? I’m heading that way, too.”