UNEDITED
After violating campus rules and committing student misconduct, twenty-three-year-old Warren Ashford is deep trouble and at risk of losing his volleyball scholarship -- the one thing he truly values other than his bad boy reputation, and hi...
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Nova
I don't sleep well that night. After an active day of hiking and arguing with Warren about where we should eat dinner, I should be mentally and physically exhausted. I, however, can't stop myself from replaying the day in my head as I lay beneath the soft cotton sheets.
I regret every moment I spent with Warren today. I shouldn't have been so selfish and introduced him to something I used to do with the love of my life. In some, volatile, distressing way, Warren reminded me of Carter. Before today, I never would have thought them to be anything alike. When comparing Warren to Carter, Carter was a saint; he was never the type of guy to sleep around, drink, or act in a rebellious manner. He was the star basketball player and the nicest guy, always respecting everyone around him and acting so down to earth. Warren is nothing like that – he's arrogant, futile, and degrades women.
But there are similarities.
Seeing Warren away from campus has done something to my perception of him. While he's usually obnoxious with his opinions, he was quiet and humble, only speaking when finding a geocache or commenting on how beautiful the scenery was. I was so dumbfounded that I asked him why he was acting this way. He shrugged and told me I shouldn't judge him by what the rumours on campus say even if they are true; that there are always other pieces to a person. He even told me that he enjoys being home because he's leaving all the fuss, his busy life, and the asphalted roads of Vancouver behind to be greeted with nature.
Which, once upon a time, is something that Carter would have said to me.
Their sense of humour is similar, too. I knew the moment I pointed out Dickson Falls that he was thinking of something inappropriate – he had an impish glint in his dark blue eyes. It's a dry sense of humour with a touch of immaturity.
Although it's extremely unfair to compare the two, the similarities are there. And I hate to say it, but I kind of...enjoy this side of Warren. When he lets go of his asshole-all-star-persona, there are different layers to him. He's actually...nice.
Shocking, I know.
Sleep eventually comes to me, and the next morning, I'm the first one awake. I roll over in the sheets and look at Warren's sleeping face.
They say that lying to yourself is a bad habit, that it causes self-deception. So I'm not going to lie to myself. Warren is an attractive man, and I can understand why women throw themselves at him. He can also be excruciatingly charming.
Sometimes, I catch myself staring at him and his lashes that are too long to belong to a man; his square jaw; his pink lips; his stunning dark blue eyes. The colour of his hair is unique, too. Almost like melted chocolate with hints of cinnamon. His looks alone could turn a believer into a sinner.
Tearing my gaze away from his face, I look at the time. It's almost seven. Knowing Warren, he'll be asleep until ten at the latest. So I decide that I'm going to go for a run.
