Chapter 3

In the last two days, I have listened to The Invisibles at least thirty times. It plays when I walk to class, when I study at the library, and when I fall asleep. Brady Carsen’s voice has an effect on me that I have never felt before. Even the faster songs bring a calming sensation over me.

Even though I know nothing about him, he consumes my every thought. I find myself doing a double take with every guy that sports a small Mohawk, checking if it’s him. I don’t even know if he is a student; he could very well be trying to make it to stardom as a musician.

I curse myself when my stomach fills with butterflies just imagining his face when he winked at me on stage that night. As much as I tell myself he’s trouble with a capital T, I can’t stop the thoughts. I know I should change my music, take The Invisibles off my iPod, but every time my finger hovers over that delete button it chooses cancel instead.

Since today is Thursday, I have a three hour gap between classes. Jessa had company when I woke up this morning, so I decide to head to the library instead of the dorm. I need the quiet study time anyway.

I walk through the doors of the library and make my way directly to the elevators. I ride the elevator by myself up to the sixth floor. I select my spot at a table for four in my usual area, close to the bathroom and elevator. Then I notice a guy sitting a few seats over by himself with his laptop out, typing so hard it sounds like the keys are going to pop off the keyboard. I debate leaving for a second, but decide I’m going to fight for my spot. I found it the first week of classes and I’m not giving it up easily. I put my ear buds in and turn my music up loud with the hope that it will annoy the angry typist.

Five minutes later my plan worked, except he now stands on the other side of the table from me. I pretend to concentrate on my book in front of me, but I see his pressed khaki slacks out of the corner of my eye. I don’t look up, but he gives me no choice when he taps his pen on the page I’m reading.

My eyes follow the blue pen that is held by long lean fingers, up to the tanned forearms, followed by the strong shoulders until I meet a pair of blue eyes staring down at me. A smile appears from his lips showing his perfect white teeth. When I realize he is talking to me, I pull the white cord from my ear bud out.

“I’m sorry, what?” My voice displays a hint of annoyance to it.

“Is that The Invisibles?” He points to my ear bud resting on my book.

“Yeah.” I look down and back up to him. I notice his smile has faltered. “Do you like them?” I ask.

“They’re okay,” he says, shrugging his shoulders up and down. His reaction confuses me. He must like the band, how else could he pick them out from hearing it from my ear bud?

“Do you mind turning it down?” he asks.

“I will turn it down if you are a little nicer to your keyboard,” I jokingly respond.

“Deal,” he laughs, putting his hand out for me to shake. “Grant Bishop.”

“Sadie Miller.” I shake his hand back.

“So Sadie, what year are you?” He pulls a chair out from the table.

“Senior. I don’t want to be rude but I have to finish reading this.” I point to my book, praying he doesn’t sit down.

“How come I’ve never seen you around?” he asks and a loud sigh escapes my lips when he sits down.

“Do you know the entire fifteen thousand student body?” I sarcastically ask.

“No, but since roughly sixty percent are female, I only really need to know nine thousand. Regardless, I would never forget a face like yours.” His flirtatious lip turns up to the right.

“Nice line,” I chuckle.

“Thanks,” he laughs. I’m happy to see he knows how cliché his line is. “Seriously, I have been coming up to the sixth floor since my freshman year and I have never seen you,” he states.

“I just transferred from Drayton University,” I reveal. I doubt he knows anyone from there.

“That would explain it,” he says, staring at me for a few seconds before standing up. “Welcome to the sixth floor. You won’t be bothered since it’s the Entomology area; there aren’t many people that come up here unless they are biology majors,” he advises me.

“Thanks,” I respond and put my ear bud back in, turning down the music.

My stomach growls an hour later and I realize I haven’t eaten since the banana this morning. I stand to pack up my books, deciding I should grab a bite to eat before heading to Clinical Psychology. Slinging my messenger bag over my shoulder, I see Grant is still typing, or in his case finger pecking on his computer. Right as I’m about to press the elevator button to go down, Grant puts his finger up in the air to me. “Hold on, Sadie. I’ll ride with you.” He quickly shoves his computer in his backpack and jogs over to me. I press the down button and we wait in silence together.

Once we enter the small confines, Grant turns my way. “Are you off to class?” he asks.

“Um…yeah.” My voice hesitates, sounding unsure. Damn, I can tell he knows I’m lying.

“For some reason I don’t believe you,” he says, cocking his eyebrow.

“Well, I’m going to grab something to eat and then I have to head to Wright Hall,” I admit.

“Psychology?” he questions.

I nod in affirmation.

“I usually don’t do this, but you want to go grab a coffee or something?” he asks and suddenly the elevator is traveling way too slow.

I bite my lower lip, stalling in hesitation. Grant’s eyes stay firmly on me, anticipating my answer. Last year I would have said forget the coffee, where’s your dorm? But I’m not that Sadie any longer. A wave of relief envelops me when the elevator beeps and the doors peel open. Unfortunately, my relief only lasts a second, when a set of familiar caramel eyes meet mine.

Brady Carsen looks delectable. He’s wearing a black hoodie paired with charcoal jeans and a set of black Chuck Taylors. His hair is pushed to the side today, making him appear less like a rocker than Saturday. But it’s his smile that absorbs me first. A warm safe feeling blankets me as we stare at one another.

“Sadie Miller,” Brady states.

“Brady Carsen,” I mimic his tone.

He smiles widely at me, but it dissipates when he looks to my left.

“Grant,” he nods over to him. I look back and forth between them, surprised they know each other. Their appearances would suggest they hang out in different circles.

“Brady,” Grant nods back.

Brady quickly disregards Grant, focusing his attention solely on me. “So, did you get my note?” The dimple in his right cheek indents further when his lips turn up.

“I did,” I say, returning his smile.

“What did you think?” He nervously rocks back on his heels. “I mean it wasn’t the live version like I would have preferred.” He raises his right eyebrow to me, informing me I should have never left Saturday night.

“It’s alright,” I jokingly shrug my left shoulder.

“Just alright,” he says softly. His lips turn down in a disappointed frown.

“Hey.” I playfully hit his shoulder with my hand. “I’m just kidding. Just ask Grant who I was listening to a few minutes ago when I was studying.” I point toward Grant, who seems completely disinterested in our conversation.

Brady’s eyes perk up at me. “Really?” He honestly sounds surprised that I like his band.

“Yes really. Tell him, Grant.” I motion with my hand to Grant, who is standing with his hands in the pockets of his khakis.

“Yeah…she was,” Grant mumbles and his attitude makes Brady smile even bigger. “Listen, I have to go. See you around, Sadie.” Grant starts to walk away before I can respond.