Captivated by Him(3)

By: Terri E. Laine

“I can drive you back to campus.”

They didn’t much look like townies, so they had to be students at McLain. I was heading there anyway.

“Yessss,” Megan purred at the same time her friend shook her head in a definitive no.

I looked between them. “Which is it? Seems a waste to call for an Uber when I’m headed there myself.”

“H. E. double hockey sticks, Reagan. Don’t be such a poop. I’m leaving because of you. The least you can do is let me ride home with him.”

Megan stammered over some of the words and sounded stone-cold sober for others. Then she giggled. Her pun on riding me home had me inwardly groaning. I had a feeling if her cock-blocking friend wasn’t around she would be down with locking herself in my room for the rest of the weekend. Since I wasn’t drunk, I wouldn’t have touched her until she sobered up. Drunken girls had a way of regretting—or pretending not to understand—their actions while under the influence.

I held out my hand to Megan and she took it. I steered her toward my truck like I didn’t give a fuck about whether or not the blonde came along. But my conscience got the best of me. I looked back in time to catch her friend blow out a long breath, causing her pink-highlighted strands to mix in with the blonde as they swirled around her face. She glanced up at the sky before giving in and trudging over to us.

After they got in the cab, I slid in on the other side and fired up the engine to get the heater going. Though it was January, the weather had been unusually warm, but nights were still cold.

“What dorm are you in, Angel?”

Megan told me at the same time her friend said, “You can drop us by the gym and we can walk.”

But I’d heard Megan say, “Warren Commons,” which was near the townhouse-style dorm I shared with Tade and two other guys.

Megan snuggled up to my side. When I began backing out of my spot, I shifted my right arm on the back of the seat as I checked behind me. I hadn’t done it to make her more comfortable against me, or so I told myself. She tucked into me like it was the natural thing to do and we’d been together for years. I caught her friend scowling before focusing my attention back on the road.

The drive wasn’t far; campus was about a mile away. Her friend mentioned the gym, so I pulled into the parking lot of her dorms, located across from the football practice field.

I’d barely stopped the car when her friend threw open the door like she couldn’t get out fast enough.

“Come on, Megan. Let’s go.”

Megan resisted the pull of her friend, preferring to keep her head on my shoulder.

I leaned over and did something I’d never done before to any girl. I kissed the top of her head like she was mine before whispering in her ear. “You’re home, Angel.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she gave me a smile that was too damn innocent. Then she gave into the pull and was out of my truck. The blonde all but slammed the car door while trying to keep Megan steady on her feet.

I hopped out my side and her friend warned me off with a wave.

“We’re fine.”

The girl was a little too spooked for some reason. I held my ground, not willing to drive off. Still, I gave Megan’s friend the distance she requested. It was late and all was quiet. As they disappeared under a brick arched alcove, I waited and listened before briskly walking the way they were going.

I stopped at the edge of the courtyard and heard a door close in the distance—it was too late for me to see which one. But not hearing any screams or scuffles, I assumed they were fine. I headed back to my truck, which I’d left running. Our campus was pretty safe, but my battered truck wasn’t worth much.

My one true love, my 1966 Mustang, sat in the garage of the house I grew up in only a few miles from campus. It was a project my dad and I started together years ago. Currently, I was rebuilding two engines. One was a modified engine for my senior project.

The other was the original one. Those parts weren’t cheap or easy to come by. It was a slow process, but if there was one thing I had, it was patience. I would use that skill on Megan. I’d decided I would have her at least once, though something told me she wouldn’t be like every other girl before her. If one taste of her was anything like the kiss we shared, I might get hooked.



Rays of sunshine and the clanging of pots made me hold my head and groan in pain.

“Please, make it stop,” I whimpered, but I was alone in my room and no one heard my pathetic pleas.

I shifted my palms to cover my ears better until the noise stopped. I shared a single-story, apartment-style dorm with my bestie, Reagan, and another girl, Betsy, who was hardly ever home.