Prologue I’M LATE, AND it’s the first day of class. I’d like to lay blame on something—car problems, couldn’t find my way to the room, got attacked by a swarm of bees while crossing the quad, anything. But I ride a scooter. I’m a senior, so I know where I’m going by now. And the bees kept to the flowers. The truth is, I stopped to down a Diet Coke and a bag of cashews before heading to class. Because I was hungry and some things can’t wait. Even so, I hate being late. It sets a bad precedent. Painfully aware of my professor’s stare, I berate myself as I scurry down one of the aisles between the rows of desks. I slide into a seat in the back just as a guy barrels down the aisle in the same hurried fashion and sits in the desk next to mine. Keeping my head down, I pull out my notepad and try to look organized and ready for the lecture. I don’t think I fool my professor, but she doesn’t say anything to me as she starts the introductory roll call. Soon it’s my turn. I’m saying my name and year when I hear a sharp intake of breath to my right. The shocked sound has me turning. That’s when I see him. The second our gazes connect, hot tingles zap through me, making