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“You had me at brownies.” I smile and hold up a finger. “One sec.”
I snatch my room key off the dresser, my hand hovering over my phone before I decide to leave it.
Closing the door behind me, I can’t help but smile.
Let him wonder what I’m doing, and who I’m with.
CHAPTER 8
JACE
Ispot Brynn froma mile away, under the dappled shade of a large oak in the courtyard beyond the Liberal Arts building, and pause as I take her in. Brynn has always stuck out in a crowd. Her long blonde waves spill over her tan shoulders like spun gold as the soft sound of her voice drifts toward me on the breeze.
At least she’s talking to a chick this time. The last time I saw her, she was with Stanley.
I steer toward her under a blue sky dotted with white clouds thick like clumps of cotton candy, grateful for them subduing the afternoon heat.
My feet my quick work of the stone pathway that leads to the massive swatch of green grass, occupied by several students lounging on blankets, enjoying the temperate weather. As I draw closer, I pull the brim of my baseball cap down over my forehead before I pick up the pace. I nearly missed her thanks to practice running late, but I was determined to catch her on her way outof class, so I hauled ass out of the locker rooms so fast I fucking slipped on the wet tile floors of the shower, crashing into Chris stark naked. It was a close call. Our dicks were two short seconds away from dueling. Fuck, I’ll probably have nightmares about it for weeks.
Lucky for me, Brynn’s too interested in her conversation with the brunette beside her to notice my approach. I can’t help but note how the rosy color in her cheeks matches the shade of her plump lips. She radiates confidence, wearing a yellow sundress that shows zero cleavage and falls to her knees. It could easily be worn to church on Sunday: a stark contrast to the outfit she wore to the club, yet equally as appealing.
Considering the rebellious thoughts I’ve been having about her lately, I probably should cool it and avoid her. No good will come of seeking her out. But she didn’t answer my texts the other night—the day I’d found her in the coffee shop with Stanley—so I want to make sure she’s okay. At least that’s what I tell myself as I approach, when the truth for why it’s been almost a week since I caught her on a date with Stan and I can’t stop thinking about her is a little murkier.
I bump into her shoulder as I pass, pretending not to notice her and hoping to piss her off, but she has zero reaction. With a frown, I glance over my shoulder and see she’s still lost in conversation. All I get is a passing, “Sorry.” She doesn’t so much as glance in my direction.
As I wonder what the hell is so interesting, I close the distance between us, coming up behind her as I place my hands over her eyes.
She yelps, startled before she laughs and bats at my hands, then swings around to face me. But her smile falls instantly. “What the hell, Jace?” She swats at my arms more aggressively this time, and certainly not in a fit of giggles. “I thought maybe you were Stanley.”
I spear her with a look. “You thought I was fucking Stanley? Like that loser is even tall enough to put his hands over your eyes from behind. I’d probably need to grab him a step stool first.”
Brynn crosses her arms over her chest and cocks her head, a scowl painting her pretty face while her friend grins, her gaze ping-ponging between us. When I mock Brynn’s rigid stance, her friend chuckles.
“Very funny,” Brynn says, “but I happen to think Stanley is a nice height. Not too tall, not too short.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay. If you want asmallman, suit yourself.”
“You know, boys like to think all girls care about is size, but it’s knowing how to use what you’ve got that counts,” she says, and I want to ask her how the hell she fucking knows.
Instead, I say, “Youbetternot have firsthand knowledge of how small Douche Dick is. I’m just going to go ahead and take it you’re assuming he’s small, which I think is probably accurate based on the little-man syndrome he projects. And for the record”—I step forward and reach out, running a lock of her hair between my fingers—“I’ve never had any complaints in that department.”
Brynn scoffs, but her cheeks flush. Candy apple red is my new favorite color.
I drop the lock of hair and put some distance between us as warning bells ring in my head. If her vengeful expression is any indication, she’s two steps away from clawing my eyes out. Also, my goading as of late feels different from our typical witty banter. It’s charged somehow, which spells trouble.
“Anyway,” I say with a smile, “who’s your friend?” I turn toward the cute brunette with chin length hair. “You were at Bradd’s the other night, right? We didn’t get a proper introduction.” I stretch out a hand for her which she accepts with a demure smile. “I’m Jace Taggart, Brynn’s good friend.”
“If it’s opposite day, sure,” Brynn says, sweetly.
“I’m Charlotte, and I know who you are.”
“Ah, my reputation precedes me.” I wink at Brynn. “Discussing me with your friends, huh?”
“Only for tips on where to bury your body?”
I snort and sling an arm over Brynn’s shoulders, then proceed to give her a noogie. “This one, always the jokester.”
“Aargh!” Brynn tries to shove me off, but she’s unsuccessful.
