I give him a funny look, then explain, “Your vitals—your email and all of the websites you think you need to sweep,” I say, smiling at his anti-geek question.

“Ya know, yer really cute when yer explainin’ yer mouse potato stuff to me,” he says, grinning.

Just then, Freddie shows up and sits down with us. “Freddie!” I smile in greeting.

“Sup, Evie? I heard you fainted at the Seven-Eleven last night. How’re you feeling?” he asks with concern in his voice.

“You heard what?” Russell and I ask in unison. Russell stops chewing his pancakes and looks from Freddie to me accusingly.

Avoiding Russell’s eyes, I ask lamely, “Where did you hear that, Freddie?” I had hoped that I wouldn’t have to tell Russell about anything that transpired last night, but I can see by the look on his face that I have some explaining to do.

“These two guys named JT and Pete live in my dorm. I think they’re sophomores. They said they saw you at the Seven-Eleven and helped you when you passed out. They said you might be anorexic or something because you hardly ate anything and that’s why you fainted,” he explains between bites. “I wanted to call you, but I don’t have your digits.”

“I’ll give you my number so you can give me the four one one on all the dirt blowing up about me. I wouldn’t want to be kept in the dark,” I reply in exasperation.

I program my number in Freddie’s cell, and then giving it back to him, I look at Russell. “I was going to tell you,” I lie to Russell.

“Red, never play poker. Ya can’t bluff to save yer life,” Russell says flatly, finishing his breakfast in silence.

“I just wanted something normal.. just to sit with you and have a normal conversation, eat a normal meal, talk about normal things, just you and me…chill,” I say softly. “Please don’t be bitter.”

“I should be the first person ya tell. Don’t make me the last to know. It doesn’t sit well with me,” he says, and his brown eyes snap at me. “Are ya okay?”

So much for chill.

“I’m fine, and you’re right, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you,” I say as contritely as possible. “I didn’t eat much yesterday, but I’m not anorexic!” I add, turning to glare at Freddie.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger,” he says, holding up both of his hands in surrender.

“Hmm…” Russell says appraisingly, looking me over, “Ya don’t look anorexic to me.” I smile at him in relief that he isn’t going to stay angry. “Ya should eat that oatmeal, though.”

I take a huge bite of oatmeal and chew it demonstratively, “Mmmm…oatmeal…my favorite.”

“Evie, are you going to do that portrait for your professor?” Freddie asks, finishing off his eggs while Russell’s brows draw together again in a frown.

“Freddie, you want to stop throwing me under the bus here?” I ask him sarcastically.

“Wut? I just wanted to let you know that I’m still available to babysit,” he says, grinning.

Make that my evil twin brother, I think.

Seeing that they’re both interested in my answer, I sigh and say, “Yes, I’m going to do it. I talked to Buns, and she said that Mr. MacKinnon is extremely good at what he does and it’s an honor to have been asked.” Russell’s jaw tightens, so I immediately relent and say, “But, just to be safe, I’d like one of you two big, strong men to come with me, you know, for protection. I have to run to class now. I’ll see you guys at lunch.”

Standing, my chair moves as Russell pulls it out for me. “Thanks,” I say, looking into his warm brown eyes.

“I’ll see ya at lunch. Try to stay out of trouble…please,” Russell says warily as he brushes his fingers over my cheek.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I reply and leave for class.

Hurrying to my first Latin class, I discover it’s very similar to the high school curriculum I’ve already taken. Immediately following Latin, I go to the science building for my nine o’clock physics class. While walking down the science hallway to the lecture hall, I experience the distinct butterfly fluttering that can only mean that Reed is nearby. I see him as I walk into the classroom; he is seated at a desk taking attendance for the professor.

As I sign in, I say, “You didn’t mention that you were Dr. Farrow’s TA.”

“I know,” he replies evenly. “How did you sleep last night?” he asks me with his eyes searching mine.

“Umm, okay,” I lie, my pulse picking up a little. I’d woken up a couple of times the previous night damp with sweat from reliving the nightmare…premonition.

He frowns at my answer as if he knows that I’m lying, but he doesn’t mention that as he says, “There is something that I failed to think of when I was with you last night. I need to discuss it with you.”

“Okay,” I reply, stepping aside so that other students could sign in. “Can you give me a hint?” I ask, because I want as much warning as possible when Reed is involved in the conversation.

Reed watches my eyes as he says, “I want to go with you to the Seven-Eleven and see if anything else transpires while you are in there.”

Instantly, I feel ill. “You want to see if I have another premonition?” I ask warily. I had secretly hoped to avoid ever going back there. I was thinking that if I avoided all convenience stores for at least a decade, maybe longer, I should be okay.

Reed’s expression is one of concern. “That is one reason for going back,” Reed says gently.

“Another would be to hang around and see if something happens to fulfill the first one?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“That would be the second reason. I don’t want you going there without me, ever…do you understand what I am saying?” he asks me, searching my face, probably looking for any sign of dissention.

“Let me get this straight, what if I got a craving for…I don’t know…Twinkies in the wee hours of the morning and all that was open was the Seven-Eleven. You’re saying I should wake you up, even if you’re crashed out, just so that you can go with me on a treat run?” I ask skeptically, trying to gauge his level of commitment to this course of action.

“Genevieve, Twinkies are really bad for you, but if you had to have one, then yes, that’s what I’m saying,” he smiles at my scenario. “Do you really like those things?”

“I’m not going to tell you if you’re going to tease me, but I will say that it’s suspiciously inhuman not to enjoy a Hostess snack from time to time,” I reply coyly. “I’ll buy you one. You’ll love it, I promise.”

And I’ll be doing the world a favor at the same time, I think, remembering him without his shirt on.

“When can you go?” he asks me with a sweet smile on his face.