Chapter 1
“Hello, my name is Jake Pulman. I’ve been noticing you for a while, and I really like you.”
Emory Hudson stared at the boy standing in front of her.
He looked nervous. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and his bright blue eyes were probably the most striking thing about him.
Unfortunately for him, they weren't enough.
He looked much younger than her.
Emory gave him one of the polite smiles she had perfected over the past few months.
“Thank you,” she said calmly.
She was beginning to get tired of this.
Just last week, four different guys had approached her and confessed their feelings. She had rejected every one of them. Most took the rejection gracefully, but a few had been annoyingly persistent.
Those were the ones who eventually forced her to take matters into her own hands.
Jake cleared his throat.
“I was wondering if I could get your number.”
For a moment, Emory remembered the last time she'd given a guy her number.
She had given him a fake one, only to discover that he'd called her while her phone was still in her hand.
The humiliation had been unbearable.
She had avoided him for nearly a month afterward.
Still, there was something about Jake's nervous expression that made her hesitate.
She pulled a small piece of paper from her bag and wrote down her name and number.
“There.”
She held it out to him.
Before Jake could take it, a sudden gust of wind swept through the park.
The paper flew from her fingers.
“Hey!”
Jake immediately ran after it.
Emory watched the small piece of paper disappear into a nearby bush.
Something about the timing felt almost ridiculous.
She took it as a sign.
Without waiting for Jake to return, she turned around and hurried away.
By the time Jake finally found the bush, the girl was gone.
He searched beneath the branches, around the grass and even behind the bench, but the paper had disappeared.
He straightened and looked around the park.
Nothing.
“Great,” he muttered.
He had lost the one thing he had been trying so hard to get.
Still, Jake wasn't ready to give up.
If he saw her around campus again, he promised himself he'd ask for her number a second time.
Meanwhile, Emory rushed back to her hostel.
The moment she entered the room, her roommates looked up.
“You're back early,” Tessy Ronalds said.
Emory dropped her bag onto the bed.
“You won't believe what just happened.”
Tessy grinned.
“Another confession?”
Emory groaned.
“A guy named Jake tried to get my number.”
Tessy burst out laughing.
“My dear Emory Hudson, you're getting very good at rejecting boys.”
She paused dramatically.
“But you still need more practice.”
Emory grabbed a pillow and smacked her with it.
Tessy laughed as she ducked.
“You're annoying!”
“And you're terrible at rejecting people.”
The two girls dissolved into laughter as they chased each other around the room.
Neither of them noticed that Emory's lost piece of paper had already found another owner.
---
Back in the park, a young man sat beneath a tree with a novel resting in his hands.
He had been reading quietly for nearly an hour when something white caught his attention.
A piece of paper had landed in the bushes.
Curious, he closed his book and reached for it.
He was a literature major, after all.
He couldn't resist a little mystery.
He unfolded the paper.
EMORY HUDSON
19523814631
He stared at it.
“Interesting.”
Who went around throwing their phone number into bushes?
He glanced around, but there was no one nearby.
With a shrug, he folded the paper and slipped it between the pages of his novel.
Then he went back to reading.
Hours passed before he finally looked up.
The sun was beginning to disappear.
“Damn.”
He quickly gathered his things and hurried back toward the hostel.
His roommates were already waiting when he entered.
“Where have you been?” Deron asked.
“Reading.”
“Of course,” Laud Turner muttered.
Harrold Anderson dropped his bag onto the table.
Trent Richardson immediately reached for the novel sticking out of it.
“Let me see that.”
Harrold didn't bother stopping him.
Trent flipped through a few pages before a small piece of paper slipped out.
He caught it.
Then he read the name aloud.
“Emory Hudson.”
The room went silent.
Deron's head snapped toward him.
“Wait. What?”
Trent held up the paper.
“Emory Hudson. And there's a number.”
Deron practically jumped out of his chair.
“Man! I've been trying to get her attention for ages, and somehow you have her number?”
Laud leaned over.
“How did you get it?”
Harrold frowned.
“Why are you all acting like I found a celebrity?”
“You don't know who she is?” Deron asked.
Harrold looked from one roommate to another.
“No.”
The four men stared at him as if he'd just announced that he'd never heard of the university.
“You don't know Emory Hudson?”
“Should I?”
They all started talking at once.
“She's the most beautiful girl on campus.”
“She's a foreign-language major.”
“Almost every guy here likes her.”
“And she's never dated anyone.”
“Apparently, she doesn't even give guys her number.”
Harrold raised an eyebrow.
“So she's just a girl.”
Laud laughed.
“Tell that to the rest of the university.”
Harrold shrugged.
“She sounds normal to me.”
Laud pulled out his phone.
“Here. See for yourself.”
He showed Harrold a picture.
For the first time, Harrold understood the excitement.
The girl in the photograph had long red hair, threaded with golden highlights, and striking green eyes.
She was beautiful.
Not the kind of beautiful that made someone look artificial.
There was something natural about her.
“That,” Laud said, “is Emory.”
Harrold looked at the picture for another moment before handing the phone back.
Now he was curious.
He wanted to meet her.
---
After the incident in the park, Emory began spending less time outside.
She went to class, grabbed something from the cafeteria and returned straight to the hostel.
She had no desire to deal with another confession.
One afternoon, however, she was rushing to class when she collided with someone.
“Sorry!”
She barely stopped.
The guy had been looking down at his phone, and Emory hurried past him before she could properly see his face.
The stranger, however, didn't move.
He watched her disappear down the hallway.
A notification sound finally pulled him back to reality.
Harrold looked down at his phone.
A message from Laud reminded him about lunch.
He slipped his phone into his pocket and continued walking.
At noon, he joined the others in the cafeteria.
“So?” Deron asked. “What are you going to do with the number?”
Harrold sat down.
“Use it.”
The others stared at him.
“For what?”
“To talk to her.”
Deron laughed.
“You're actually going to text her?”
“Why not?”
“Good luck,” Trent said.
Laud nodded.
“You're going to need it.”
Harrold ignored them.
For some reason, he was looking forward to finding out what kind of person Emory Hudson really was.
---
Emory couldn't understand why she kept thinking about the stranger she'd bumped into.
She had barely seen him.
Yet those brown eyes had stayed in her mind the entire day.
There had been something about the way he'd looked at her.
Recognition.
Admiration.
Curiosity.
Had she met him before?
She couldn't remember his face from anywhere.
Eventually, she forced herself to stop thinking about it.
It was probably nothing.
That evening, Emory finished preparing for bed and changed into her pajamas.
She had just settled beneath the covers when her phone vibrated.
Unknown Number:
Hi, Emory. How was your day?
She stared at the message.
Who was this?
She decided not to respond.
Instead, she put her phone down and went to take a shower.
But when she returned and climbed into bed, sleep refused to come.
She tossed and turned.
Every time she closed her eyes, those brown eyes appeared again.
Finally, she grabbed her phone.
Maybe a conversation would distract her.
She typed.
Emory:
It wasn't so good, actually.
The reply came almost immediately.
Unknown Number:
Why? What happened?
Emory hesitated before answering.
Emory:
I was late to class, I bumped into some guy on my way there, and I have an assignment due that I have no idea how to handle.
There was a pause.
Then the response appeared.
Unknown Number:
Oh, sorry. But please tell me about the guy you bumped into.
Emory frowned.
Why was this person interested in him?
She typed anyway.
Emory:
He wasn't bad-looking.
She paused.
Then added:
But the way he stared at me is what bothered me.
Somewhere across campus, Harrold smiled at his phone.
He finally had something to work with.
