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Grabbing my shower kit, I walk into the bathroom. There are at least a dozen girls in there waiting for him to come back. As I shut the door, they all frown and go back to gossiping about the tattooed man who was spotted this morning and how they hoped to get a glimpse of him.
“I hope you know he left,” I state, pushing my way through their whore asses. This is why I only have one best friend. If she were anything like these piranhas, I wouldn’t be friends with her. I don’t like the drama these bitches bring, and I sure as hell don’t like having to compete for attention from the fucked-up foursome.
The guys agreed they wouldn’t fuck my friend, and I agreed not to run my mouth about their sluts. Sure, I don’t mind shaming anyone who brags they fucked them. When I tell them exactly how I feel about their whore asses, they get all pissy because they know it’s true and those four will never look at them again afterward.
After I shower, I dry off and make my way to the sink to brush my teeth and hair. Applying lotion, I notice someone staring at me. When I stand back up to my full height, the girl turns her head and goes back to doing whatever she was doing.
“What?” I ask. My tone is bitchy, but I don’t care. I hate when people stare at me for no reason.
“Nothing,” she mutters, turning her attention to the mirror she’s standing in front of.
Grabbing my stuff, I walk out and head for my room. Typically, I can deal with the stares that come with being Ridge Prescott’s little sister and the only female included in their little bubble. That’s only because they don’t want anyone to touch me, so they keep me close.
The boys I went to school with were terrified they’d get their asses beat if they even thought about me in a dirty way. When Jagger found out who I lost my virginity to, he beat the crap out of him. The kid was in the damn hospital with a broken arm and rib, along with cuts and bruises over most of his upper body and face. Of course, he was too much of a pussy to rat on Jagger, so he got away with it.
No other guy touched me until college, and we all know how that went. Jagger beat his ass, too, but with good reason. I was thankful for his protective nature when that happened, and I am just glad he didn’t say anything to Ridge. The kid probably would have ended up dead.
After I dress, I put on some light makeup, noticing the damn hickey the stupid ass left on my neck. Even though he swears he won’t claim me because of my brother, he does it subtly, leaving hickeys and scaring all the boys away when they hit on me. For someone who isn’t supposed to touch me, he sure does make it known that no one else is allowed to, either.
I roll my eyes. He’s an idiot most fucking days, yet I’m still attracted to his dumb ass.
As I make my way out of my room, it seems like everyone has heard about him being in the damn dorm. People are camped out in the hallways, just waiting for a peek of him. Pulling my phone out, I send him a picture of the pandemonium.
Walking out the front door, I make my way toward campus, thanking God there aren’t any more stupid girls hanging around. He is not that big a deal, even if he thinks he is. My phone pings with a text.
I told you. Bitches love me. You should feel damn special you were the one riding my dick last night.
Rolling my eyes, I send him one of my own.
Please. You probably have something from all the sluts you fuck.
His response is instant, making me regret my message.
You should get checked then.
“Dick,” I mutter to myself.
As I slide through the door of the lecture hall, I run into something hard. I start to fall back, a pair of hands grasping my arms to keep me upright. Looking up, I pull away. It’s like looking at a younger version of Jagger.
“Sorry,” I say quietly before making my way to my seat.
I send another message to Jagger.
Did you take some magical pill that made you look younger?
Maybe I’m seeing things after the orgasms he gave me. He responds instantly.
You been doing drugs, too?
I curse silently and look back up toward the front of the room. The guy’s staring at me as he talks to the professor… Actually, it’s more like the professor is talking to him and he’s ignoring the poor man. I act like I’m taking a selfie and snap a picture of the guy, sending it to Jagger. The idiot asked if I was doing drugs. He’s lucky I can’t punch him in the dick again.
Who is he?
Before I can tell him I have no idea, his look-alike starts walking toward me. I shrink down in my chair and pray he doesn’t sit next to me. There are a ton of empty seats in this damn classroom.
Smirking, the Jagger twin takes a seat next to me. I want to punch Jagger just for the hell of it now. The guy even smells just like that asshole.
“Hey.”
