“Do you remember the first time we met?”

She frowned, forehead wrinkling. “Uh, yeah,” she answered, confused. “You were …” Her words drifted off as she bit the tip of the eraser to the pencil she held in her hand.

Is she blushing?

“Fucking your roommate,” I supplied.

Yup, she was definitely blushing.

Her eyes also ballooned at my words.

I shrugged.

“I walked in on you two.” Her nose pinched angrily.

“Not my fault you don’t know how to knock.”

“It was my room!”

Another shrug. “It was Tracey’s room, too.”

Deborah groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“You’ve avoided me since then.”

I was glad when she didn’t try to deny that fact. Four years we’d spent on the same campus, we even had some friends in common, but since that day freshman year she hadn’t said more than two words to me.

“It’s been a busy four years,” she responded. “I didn’t have time to mess around.”

“I’ve noticed.”

She peered at me, those blue eyes narrowing. “And I didn’t like that since that first day you’ve called me princess.”

“I call you princess because you acted like one.”

Her mouth dropped.

“It’s true. You walked in on your roommate and I fucking and freaked out as if you’d never heard of or seen two people having sex before.”

“It’s not a common occurrence to walk in on people having sex!”

“We’re in college. You live in the dorms. I know that wasn’t your last time walking in on your roommate fucking or vice versa.”

“Do you have to keep using that word?”

“What? Fucking? See? Princess.”

She rolled her eyes and I sat back in my chair, just staring. She was gorgeous with her hypnotizing eyes, long, dark hair, aquiline nose, and her slightly bronzed skin from the California sun.

“That’s none of your business.”

I sat forward, her words propelling me. Her thinking her sex life wasn’t my business sparked something in me. What, I didn’t know, being completely unfamiliar with the feeling.

“Besides, freshman year was my first and only time having a roommate. I learned my lesson early on. You weren’t the only guy Tracey had in and out of our room that year.”

I snorted. I was well aware of that. Tracey had been a one-time thing. I moved on almost as soon as I’d pulled out of her, but I didn’t need to tell Deborah all of that.

“Where are you from?”

Deborah looked at me, again taken aback by my line of question. But I wouldn’t take it back. I wanted to know more about her and I needed her to tell me.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know.”

“Where are you from?”

“Williamsport.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh.”

“You’ve heard of it, I’m assuming.”

“Of course.”

“Great. Now your turn.”

She hesitated, then rested her chin in the palm of her hand as her elbow leaned on the wooden desk. She stared at me for a few silent moments, contemplating. She tried to appear confident, nonchalant, but her eyes gave her away. I was certain she didn’t even realize it but her eyes revealed embarrassment.