The instructor introduced himself as Mitch McHenry. He was an older man with gray on the top of his head matching his neatly groomed mustache and beard. His posture and the commanding tone of his voice reminded me of a military officer.

“All right, guppies! Who here already knows how to swim?”

About half the class raised their hand, myself included.

“Good. You guys can help out your fellow classmates. Since it’s everyone’s first day, I’m going to go over the basics: the doggy-paddle and treading water. Then you guys are going to do laps back and forth on the shallow end of the pool.”

One by one, each student entered the pool. Some dipped their toes to test the water before hopping in, some took the steps down, and some cannonballed right into the pool. Once everyone was up to their necks in chlorinated water, Mr. McHenry spent the next ten minutes demonstrating how to do the strokes properly then he ordered us to practice.

I already knew the basic strokes so practice was a breeze. It was apparent half the class felt the same way but the other half were borderline drowning in five feet of water. Mr. McHenry spent the next half hour helping the worst cases.

I was in the middle of helping a redheaded female freshman with her doggy paddle, when I glanced over and saw a student through the pool’s glass entrance walking toward the men’s locker room. He briefly passed by the entrance but then doubled-back. I recognized him. Hunter narrowed his eyes at me then waved in my direction.

My pulse leaped. The moment was beyond awkward—particularly because I was trying to avoid him—but I managed to wave back. Just when I thought he’d walk over and we’d have an uncomfortable conversation about why I bolted from his apartment this morning in front of the entire swim class, he turned around and continued toward the men’s locker room. I was left with both relief and regret.

“Focus your attention on your partner, Ms. Burnham,” a gruff voice said behind me, making me jump out of the water.

I twisted around to see Mr. McHenry helping the redheaded freshman stay afloat. Her face was as bright as her hair. I was supposed to be helping her but I’d been distracted.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” I said, apologizing to both Mr. McHenry and the redhead—who now had a scowl on her face.

“Just because you know how to swim, doesn’t give you the right to let your fellow classmate drown,” Mr. McHenry said, more as a statement than an accusation. He assigned the freshman to a different partner and then turned back to me. “So you know Hunter?”

I found the question odd coming from Mr. McHenry so I paused a moment before answering. “Yeah . . .”

“Are you guys friends?”

“Um . . . yeah I met him a few weeks ago and we became friends . . . Do you know him from somewhere?”

He glanced at the entrance where Hunter had been then returned his gaze to me. “I run the ROTC program here. Hunter was a member two years ago.”

“He wanted to be in the Army?” Just as I asked the question, the image of the shirt he’d given me and the model airplanes in his closet popped into mind.

“Air Force, actually. He was dead set on making it. I put a lot of effort into training and helping him. I hoped he’d make it but unfortunately he’s no longer in the program.”

Curious, I asked, “Why not?”

“It definitely wasn’t because of his performance. With evaluations like he had, he was a shoo-in for any branch . . . but well . . . it’s his story to tell, not my place to discuss details.” He scratched his neatly trimmed beard. “He’s a good kid but a bit troubled. Anyway, I have to go make sure nobody drowns. Although you’re a bit irresponsible, you seem like a nice girl. Just thought you ought to know. If you get the chance, keep your eye on Hunter. Make sure he stays out of trouble.”

Mr. McHenry swam away to help another student, leaving me to think about what he’d just told me. He’d asked me to watch over Hunter implying that Hunter, for some reason, needed watching over. Gary had mentioned something similar. Could it have been a coincidence? I didn’t know what to make of it except that Hunter seemed like the kind of guy who could take care of himself. Between Hunter and myself, I was probably the one who needed help.

Chapter Ten

FRIENDS?

The weekend passed as well as the beginning of the next week. I’d been trying to avoid Hunter but he’d been texting me at least a few times per day. I had to tell him I’d gotten sick over the weekend to gracefully turn down his requests to hang out. It was getting harder to make up excuses to avoid him without appearing suspicious.

I’d just finished art history class learning about how Van Gogh cut off his ear and was in the hall preparing to head to my next class when I received a call. Nervous that it was Hunter, my heart started beating faster as I reached into my pocket for my phone. It was one thing brushing him off via text, it was another saying it out loud. Talking made it more difficult to come up with excuses. I took a deep breath and looked at my phone. I released a long sigh when I saw that it was my aunt.

“Hey Aunt Caroline!” I answered as I went to a private corner in the Arts building to talk to her.

“Hey hey! How are you doing?”

“Good. Just got done with my art history class.”

“Oh, sounds like you’re keeping busy. How’s your semester going so far?”

“It’s been a little difficult, but I think I’m getting used to it.”

“Sounds wonderful. Hey, what do you think about me visiting you next week? The boys are going on a field trip to D.C. and Stewart’s going on a business trip. Plus it’s been a while since I’ve visited Studsen.”

My heart leaped. “I’d love it if you came and visited.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you next week!”

Just as I hung up, I noticed an icon at the top of the screen telling me I had a voicemail. It was from Hunter.

“Hey Lorrie, haven’t heard from you in a while. Just wondering if you’re doing all right. You want to get together and hang out this week?”

An electronic voice asked me to press seven if I wanted to delete the message and nine if I wanted to save it. I thought about how I needed to have less complications in my life and at a tap of a digital button, I could do that. I pressed seven.

I had a good hour and a half until my economics class. It was a short enough break that it made going back to my dorm impractical. Instead, I found a bench outside and whipped out my sketch pad just as the sky started sprinkling snow. I became entranced by a lone blue bird perched atop a branch of one of the large trees that lined the arts quad. The color of his feathers reminded me of Hunter’s fighting trunks. Most of the birds had flown south by now, but this little guy was an exception. He wasn’t normal, just like me.

“Nice doodle.”

Startled by Hunter’s sudden appearance, I nearly poked a hole through the paper with my pencil. Looking over my shoulder, he exhaled a warm breath against my neck, raising goosebumps on the skin.

“Thanks,” I replied coolly, giving him only a quick glance before returning to my drawing. I did my best to ignore him though I knew it was futile.

“Are birds your favorite thing to draw?”

“Not really. This weird one just happened to catch my attention, that’s all. I’m not particularly attached to it or anything.”