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Chapter One
October 1995
Nicole Wright already had three paperbacks tucked against her chest, and she wasn’t done shopping. Waldenbooks got a lot of her money, probably more than it should have. But was there even such a thing as too many books? Not to her.
She turned the corner toward the magazines, and there he was. Drew Kiernan. Drayton University’s star quarterback, all six feet four glorious inches of him. She slowed down without meaning to, and before she could get it together, she’d given him the full once-over, from the Air Maxes on his big feet to the Red Sox cap covering most of his thick blond hair. The bill sat low over his eyes, but that didn’t matter. She’d seen them enough on that life-size poster of him and his teammates outside the football stadium to know the exact shade of blue-gray.
He hadn’t looked up yet. That meant she had a decision to make, and fast, before he caught her staring and thought she was checking him out. She totally was, by the way. But who could blame her? He was nothing like any boy she’d ever dated, but she had eyes. Fine was fine, white boy or not.
She really needed to turn around and head back the way she’d come. She could go find that Donald Goines novel she’d been meaning to pick up. But since when did she let anyone, let alone a boy, intimidate her into running the other way? Never. Not in all of her nineteen years on God’s green earth.
Nicole shifted the paperbacks to one arm and kept going, determined to act like Drew wasn’t standing a few feet away looking fine as hell. She grabbed the October issue of Vibe, with Biggie and Faith Evans on the cover, and balanced it on top of the books while she flipped through it. She made it halfway through a story about Mariah Carey before her eyes went wandering back down the aisle.
He had the new Rolling Stone, the one with the Red Hot Chili Peppers on the cover. There was no reason for her to keep sneaking peeks over there, so she made herself go back to Mariah, and for a few minutes it actually worked. Then she got that feeling you get when somebody’s watching you.
She knew better than to look up from her magazine, and she did it anyway.
Drew was staring right at her. He took his time looking her over—all of her—before he made it back up to her face. Oh, he definitely liked what he saw. He was bold with it, she’d give him that. But she was feeling cute today. Sexy, even, in a pair of baggy jeans that sat on her hips just right and a Tommy Hilfiger crop top showing enough stomach to prove those Denise Austin tapes weren’t a complete waste of her time. Even her hair had decided to cooperate, hanging bone straight past her shoulders with a deep side part. Fall in the South was no joke, still hot and humid this far into October. But thanks to a fresh relaxer, her roots were laid.
Cute outfit and good hair day aside, who knew Drew was into Black girls? Okay, Drew. Still, she wasn’t trying to encourage him, so she looked away.
That didn’t last long. He was the kind of fine that made you look twice, whether you meant to or not, so she looked again, just to get it out of her system. And . . . he was still looking.
“Red Hot Chili Peppers,” she said, nodding at the cover. She had no idea where she was going with that. It just felt like somebody had to say something.
“You a fan?” he asked.
Her roommate, Bailey, was obsessed with them and had played their latest album to death since it dropped last month. Nicole had a feeling Drew was a fan, too, so she kept it neutral and shrugged. “They’re all right, I guess.”
“Just all right?” He gave her a lopsided grin.
“Let’s just say—”
“Drew!”
The voice belonged to some leggy girl in a baby-doll dress. She must have spotted Drew through the storefront, because she made a beeline for him, breezing past Nicole in a cloud of Victoria’s Secret Rapture. Maybe she was staking her claim in front of Nicole, or maybe that was how she and Drew got down. Either way, the girl threw her arms around his neck and kissed him right on the mouth.
Alrighty then.
Nicole had seen enough. This was why she didn’t date athletes. Especially athletes like Drew. Everybody knew the deal. Drew loved the ladies, and the ladies loved Drew. And whatever he and what’s-her-face had going on was none of Nicole’s business. That little moment they’d had was no big deal. He belonged with the blonde, who could’ve been picked out of the same catalog as every other girl Nicole had ever seen him with on campus.
That was just how things worked. This wasn’t the fifties or sixties, but it was still Alabama in the nineties. Social segregation was alive and well. People didn’t call it that, of course. Not out loud. And a Black girl with a white boy? Everybody would notice, and everybody would have something to say.
She’d probably never talk to Drew again, and honestly, that kinda sucked. She’d had a little crush on him since freshman year, even if she’d never planned on doing anything about it or telling a soul. Then she finally got a few seconds of actual conversation with him, only for what’s-her-face to show up and remind her why keeping that crush to herself had been the smarter move. Besides, Cedric had started calling again.
At the register, she dug her wallet out of her bag, and a scrunchie came tumbling out with it. While the cashier rang her up, she let herself glance back at the magazines one last time. The blonde was still talking, but Drew didn’t seem to be listening. He was looking at Nicole.
Well, shit.
The second Nicole walked out of Waldenbooks, the smell of cinnamon rolls from the food court hit her. On her way to the main entrance, she passed Express, where they had a slip dress on one of those headless mannequins. She stopped and eyed it for a second, then kept going. Somebody at the new Sam Goody by the doors had Coolio’s “Gangsta’s Paradise” turned up loud enough to drown out whatever the mall had playing overhead.
Outside, the heat still hadn’t broken. The parking lot was packed, but what else was new? It was the only mall within twenty miles. Cars kept circling the rows hunting for a spot up front, while the people who’d given up made the long walk in from the back.
“Hey, wait up,” somebody called behind her.
She slowed but didn’t stop. In a lot this size, he could’ve been talking to anyone.
“Yeah, you. Hold on a sec.”
