“Give me your number so if I have to cancel a tutor session I can reach you,” I said, holding out my hand. I’d only wanted to do one session withCameron,but I was gonna have all the tutor sessions withCammie.Hell, I was gonna ace genetics.
She blinked like I was speaking a foreign language, then she pulled her phone from a side pocket in her leggings. She wasn’t fawning all over me like others did on campus–guys and girls–which was fine withme, which meant if anyone was gonna be skittish around me, it’d be her. I didn’t want to come on too strong and tell her she was the woman I was gonna marry. I had to start with her phone number and I had to have a good reason that wouldn’t spook her.
She handed it to me, and I added my number.
“Yo, Wilder! Go get ‘em Saturday!” Some guy came over, slapped me on the shoulder as I was handing Cammie her cell back, then exited the building.
I realized then that I liked that her body was hidden from other guys. He hadn’t even noticed her. Me taking my time to unwrap her would be like an early holiday present.
“Where’s your coat?” I asked, as we stepped outside. The air was cold with a sharp bite to it indicating it might snow.
Cammie crossed her arms over her chest, as if I reminded her she should be freezing.
“I’ve been here since two,” she explained. “It was warmer then.”
I tugged her out of the way as I set our bags down, then shrugged out of my sweatshirt.
“Here.”
I bunched up the sides and pushed it down over her head.
“What are you doing?” she called from beneath the thick cotton.
“Keeping you warm. Arms out.”
She huffed, or I thought she did with my hood flopped down and obeyed.
When I got it over her, then pushed the hood back, I knew.
Cammie was mine.
The hoodie fell to her knees and was maybe fourteen sizes too big. But she looked fucking adorable and well,mine.
She didn’t know it, but my name was across her back, which meant I claimed her for the entire campus to see.
3
CAMMIE
When I came in,my roommate Rose was on her bed, her pillows propping her up with her laptop resting on her thighs. She was in gray sweatpants and a soft pink turtleneck. Her hair was in a loose braid that rested over one shoulder. Spa music was set to low and the scent of buttered popcorn lingered in the air.
“Hey,” I said, setting my bag on my desk. We lived in one of the older dorms so the room was small. Enough for beds, dressers, and desks for each of us. In the space in the middle, we found a shaggy turquoise blue rug for warmth since the floor was cold linoleum.A string of white fairy lights were on over the window that faced the quad.
“I thought you were staying late at the library,” she added.
“I had tutoring.”
“That’s right. How’d it go? I–Cammie… whose sweatshirt is that?”
I looked down at myself, at the enormous, yet thick and cozy sweatshirt. It smelled like him.
Him being Zeb Wilder. The very popular guy who didn’t want me walking home by myself.
“Oh, the guy I’m tutoring. I forgot my coat.”
She popped off the bed faster than if there’d been a fire drill. She came to me, spun me around to face her. Where I was short, she was tall. I was fair, she was dark. She exercised. I… did not. Okay, I did yoga with her on Tuesday nights, but that was it. Her dark eyes were lit with excitement.
“Is it Zeb Wilder?” she asked.
