Dream of You by Lauren Gilley

mileage, he would have had no trouble telling him he was shit out of luck. But an eighteen-year-old freshman with a great rack asks him, and he just can’t agree to it fast enough.
                  Dumbass.
                  By the time he made his way down the staircase and out through one of the ten or so sets of double doors in the front of the convocation center, he’d convinced himself that she wouldn’t show. But when he hit the sidewalk that bordered the campus green, his eyes scanned the area and latched onto a brunette figure in track shorts and a white tank top leaned back against a concrete bench. Her eyes were fixed on the Frisbee game taking place on the green, a bored expression on her lovely face, and she was built like God had looked inside his head and used the fantasies he found there to construct Jordan’s ideal physical specimen of a woman.
                  She turned toward him when he set his bag on the bench beside her, dark chocolate hair fanning around her shoulders. “Dressed out at ten till five,” she said with a small, pleased smile that made her gray eyes dance.
                  “I see that,” he said dryly. Yes, he was definitely seeing all of it, tits to toes.
                  “So how does this work?”
                  “Well, generally, you would use both feet.”
                  She had one of those smiles that stole across her face, the kind that caught people off guard. She rolled her eyes as she stood and smoothed the hemline of her shorts. “That part, believe it or not, I figured out on my own. I meant: what do you want me to do?”
                  That question sent his mind on a little field trip. Lots of things, sweetheart .
                  God, when had he turned into such a jaded fucking letch?
                  The sidewalk ran a loop around the green. “I fudged the distance since one lap isn’t an exact anything. I’ll time you on ten laps and if you finish in the allowed time, you pass.” He resisted the urge to grin. “But I thought you’d know that what with highlighting my syllabus and all.”
                  She took the ribbing with a shrug. “Ten laps?”
                  “Yeah.”
                  He didn’t expect her to start off at a jog, but he clicked the start on the stopwatch and got as comfortable on the bench as possible. When she was halfway around the green, Jordan realized his staring had reached a whole new level of personal creepiness. When she reached the three-quarter point, she slowed to a walk. And by the time she passed in front of him, he’d decided something.
                  It had been a long time since he’d found anything truly interesting about a female. This one was hot and interesting. Even if she was too young, his student no less, and she probably thought he was a weird-ass, he wasn’t hurting anybody by…talking to her.
                  Yeah. Talking. Because that was all he wanted to do. Just talk.
                  Jordan stood and fell into step beside her as she started her second lap, and Ellie glanced at him with an odd mixture of curiosities he couldn’t label.
                  “I thought I’d keep you company.”
                  “Oh, you don’t have to.”
                  “Do you want me to sit back down?”
                  Jordan watched her and thought she blushed, her cheeks pinking. “No…I just, didn’t want you to feel obligated or anything.”
                  He’d taken his usual run that morning and then worked out with his wannabe trio of track stars before his first class. “I could use the exercise,” he said with a shrug, and watched her cover a laugh with her hand. “What?”
                  “Yeah, you need the