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staring into my eyes with a look of appreciation.
    My face naturally nestles into his hand as I feel a sense of warmth spread throughout my body. I can’t help the goofy grin that I’m sure is visibly smeared across my face. Having him look at me the way he is, and having his hand on my cheek, makes all my reservations and modesties fly out the door.
    Just as he’s about to say something else, the clock strikes nine and in comes Professor Adams greeting us with her usual “Bonjour,” and breaking the moment–or whatever you want to call it–that Matt and I just shared.
    Pulling his hand back to his side, he gives me another breathtaking smile before turning his attention to the front of the room where Professor Adams is already getting into today’s lesson. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and try to compose myself so I can actually comprehend today’s lecture.
    Because on top of being whatever we are, I am also Matt’s French tutor starting this Sunday.

    Although I couldn’t help the nervous knee bouncing throughout class, I did manage to pay attention while still visualizing the intense look that Matt was giving me as he cupped my cheek.
    He touched my face!
    The butterflies that seem present whenever Matt is around are on full alert when we stand up to leave the classroom. Just as he did on the way here, Matt holds the door open for me while placing his hand on my lower back, allowing me to exit first. If hell hasn’t frozen over yet, it certainly has now because as soon as we step foot in the hallway Matt takes my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. My body briefly goes numb and my mind goes blank as I stare at our intertwined fingers. Getting a grip on myself I look up at Matt only to find him facing forward, walking like it’s no big deal. Even though I’m silently freaking out inside, I know that right now is not the time nor the place to find out what the hell is going on. I wipe the “holy shit” look from my face and replace it with a smile, walking hand in hand to my next class with Matthew frickin Jacobs by my side.

    Reaching my classroom, Matt removes his hand from mine and relocates it to my lower back, kissing my forehead before saying that he’ll see me later. Luckily, the door knob is near to catch my fall as my body finally goes limp, realizing the huge step Matt and I just made. Although I’m a newbie, I know I’m not blind.
    No matter the relationship, holding hands equals more than just friends.

Chapter 8
    Just as I step out of my last class for the day, I hear my phone chime with a noise I have never heard before, so I stop and sit on a nearby bench to fish my phone out of my bag. Low and behold it says on the screen that I have a text message from the same number that I used to call Matt on the other night. Of course I know what text messaging is, but I’ve never been given a reason to use it. Honestly, the only time my phone ever gets used is when I check in with my parents every Sunday night and the only reason why I carry it around with me is because I promised my mom before I left for school that it would never leave my side in case of an emergency.
    To say that my mom had reservations about me moving away and living on my own is a complete understatement. My mom knows that even though I’m kind of a loner I don’t take crap from anyone, which can land me in some sticky situations. Run-ins with stuck-up girls aren’t a foreign thing with me, and it landed me a few detentions during high school, including a suspension.
    Even though I graduated at the top of my class and won a few awards for some of the photos that I have taken, I’ve never been the golden child and have quite possibly given my mom every grey hair on her head. With that said, part of the agreement I made with my parents is that if they allowed me to move away from all of the over dramatic girls at home, I would stay out of trouble here. Other than my little mix up with Brynn at work, I have