When I started school, I’d decided that love could wait. Well, after my one and only boyfriend threw me away for someone that looked more like the girl I’d taken a seat next to. I envied girls like that, so well put together at all times: the right clothes, the right shoes, perfect hair and skin tone, no matter the weather. I, however, was a hot mess and had been since I was a kid. Growing up, I had absolutely no interest in playing Barbie’s with my sister when I could be swinging from trees. When we were younger, Dallas used to come in from playing to show our parents she hadn’t gotten her clothes dirty, while I, to my mother’s absolute horror, brought in anything that crawled or hopped. As I watched the girl next to me play with her perfectly painted nails, I swore to myself that one day I would make time for things like that. I would become a better, more alluring version of myself.

Yeah, right.

 School came first, love would have to wait, and my father agreed wholeheartedly. My mother, on the other hand, had told me “The whole world would not make a damn bit of sense until I fell in love.” I’d already tried that and had barely made it out alive. My parents were a pair of romantics. While I did subscribe to their brand of thought, right now was not the time.

Curiosity got the best of me and I turned to my left, although I had sworn to myself I wouldn’t, and felt the prick of a tingle start from my scalp then down my back as I found his eyes on me.

Turning my attention back to the lecture, I cursed my stupid curiosity. Why was he still looking at me?

When we were dismissed, I stood up to make my way to my apartment to read what I could to prep for my next lab, but was stopped short at the door by the same man that had already taken up too much of my imagination. I pushed past him for the second time but was stopped in the corridor when he addressed me.

“You.” It was a statement from him, not a question. I turned to look at him, utterly confused.

 “Me?” I noticed his girlfriend eyeing our exchange as she continued to talk to her friends.

 “What’s your name?”

 “Rose.”

 “Rose,” he mimicked, his eyes still intent on mine. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he continued to stare. I finally broke our gaze. He smiled at the ground for a moment then looked at me again. “Okay.” His smile was breathtaking. It was boyishly handsome on a face that screamed all man. I was supposed to be doing something. What was I doing? He had my full attention. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. He was quite a bit taller than I was and had a broad chest that was torturing his pale blue t-shirt. He didn’t belong in my class. He didn’t belong in this school, and it was too easy to tell. He had a deep tan and looked to be a bit of a roughneck. We stared at each other for a full minute as I tried desperately to take all of him in, but he had too much body for me to compartmentalize. Between the bulges in his arms, his broad chest, and an ass I was straining to get a glimpse of, I concluded he looked like Tarzan in modern day clothing. If I kept my appraisal of him going on any longer, I felt I would start spouting off things like: “You Tarzan, me Jane, and me want to swing.”

 “Okay, Rose,” he said, interrupting my inner dialogue and daydream. Damn him! We were almost happy living in the trees. It was obvious he had something on his mind.

 “Is there a conversation I’m having with you that I don’t know about?” I asked in a hushed tone.

 “Yes, Rose, there is.” I was graced with another smile— oh, God, a dimple— then, “I’ll see you around.”

 “Well... who are you?” He looked back at me with a confidence I’d only seen a few men carry, namely my father.

“I’m the man that’s going to marry you.” I snorted, quite unattractively, as my reply. Then he caught my gaze again, imploring me to believe him. “I’m the man that you are going to marry.”