ONE CHRISTIAN SHE SAT ACROSS FROM ME, this beautiful girl who had to be both the cutest and sexiest thing I’d ever seen. A rich tenor rang in her words, this modest kind of confidence that sucked me in, while her cheeks seemed to continually light with a gentle flush when she said anything that embarrassed her in the slightest way.

A sublime contradiction, self-assured and shy.

How ironic it was her.

But really, I shouldn’t have been all that surprised. I always knew what I wanted the moment it saw it.

Shifting against the hard wood of the chair, I leaned forward and struggled to pay attention to the words she spoke as I stared, mesmerized by that perfect mouth.

One elbow was propped on the table, her head tilted to the side as she supported it with her fingertips. Sun-streaked waves of dark blonde hair fell down around one side of her heart-shaped face as she thumbed through the thick textbook resting on the table between us.

Concentration edged her brow, her pouty lips pulling into a thin line whenever she became engrossed in something she read.

“Do you think you’re up for this?” she asked, sounding overwhelmed.

"Definitely."

No question.

I was up for all kinds of things.

Last night, I’d shared two short emails with her, and we’d arranged to meet at this little café during the time we both had a break in our classes.

Of course, at that time, I had no idea who my American Government study partner would turn out to be. The little description she had given, I’d scribbled on the note that was now crumpled in my front pocket.

Elizabeth Ayers, long, blonde hair.

At the bottom, I’d jotted down her cell phone number.

Yeah, I’d be holding on to that.

A groan of apparent dread slipped through her lips, and the sound almost caused me to release one of my own.

“Are you sure? Because have you looked through this syllabus? ”

She glanced up, then back at the small stapled pack of papers laid out between us. “There’s going to be a ton of memorization. I’m pretty sure this is going to be a pretty difficult class, ”she said seriously, completely focused on the information she was devouring as her eyes roved over the page.

“You have no idea how happy I was to find that sign-up sheet for a study partner. I don’t know about you, but I can’t afford to get a bad grade in this class. ” She scribbled something in her notebook, licked her lips, rambled mostly to herself.

I looked away, down at my hands clenched together on the table in front of me.

Everything about her swam with innocence, but her eyes were too sharp to speak of naivety. She knew exactly what I was thinking as my gaze caressed the soft slope of her neck. Most girls would be crawling all over me by now, but Elizabeth looked like maybe she’d just decided she didn’t want anything to do with me.

Swallowing, I tried to reel myself in.

I was fucking this all up, and I had no idea why I cared.

But I did.

I mean, I didn’t want a relationship or anything, but I wanted. something.

The expression on Elizabeth’s face told me she’d already decided what that was.

Yeah. Definitely fucking this up.

She went back to flipping through the pages, meticulous as she mapped out our study plan for the semester. She asked me several questions about my strengths, my schedule, when and where I preferred to have our study sessions.

Even though she was so obviously worried about her grade, there was no doubt in my mind she was going to ace this class.

"Where are you from, Elizabeth?" The words were abrupt, and I shifted in my seat, leaning farther across the small table with my elbows digging into the wood, edging her direction.

Honey kissed every inch of her - her hair, her eyes, her skin - and I knew she couldn’t be from around here.

“Uh. . . San Diego, ”she said almost absently, absorbed in the words she wrote, before she surprised me by stopping and looking up at me with a wistful smile. “I lived there my whole life. This is the first time I’ve been out of California. I still can’t believe I’m in New York City. It’s crazy. ”

With a small, contented shake of her head, she bit at her lip and picked up where she’d left off, the fluid sweep of her hand across the paper as she planned.

“This is the first time you’ve been out of California?” Incredulity dropped from my mouth. How was that even possible?

I’d traveled the world with my parents, forced to go on trip after boring trip.

When I was young, I would get excited as I sat in a first-class seat on the plane, antsy to get into the air, to see new things-for my father to be there.

But soon I realized it was always the same.

Me stuck alone in a huge hotel room, playing my old Nintendo Game Boy with a nanny I didn’t even know, while my parents went off to do whatever they did.

Vague memories of my mother’s promises lingered in my mind, but they were always an excuse, a lame apology that next time she would take me sightseeing or to a theme park or some other cool place I wanted to go.

By the time I was fifteen, whenever they went out of town, I refused to go with them.

"I guess that's not normal for most people," she said, "but my mom raised me and my sisters by herself, so there wasn't a lot of money left for vacations."

She lifted her head and I could see her face. A gentle casualness framed her mouth, something that spoke of respect and grace.

My mother would have rather died than admit she lacked the money for something. But here was this girl who couldn’t be more than eighteen, laying it all out, setting her private world on display.

And without an agenda.

A tiny laugh slipped through Elizabeth’s lips. "But we always had our beach."

For a second, sadness clouded her features, an almost indiscernible twitch of her muscles.