Now I’m getting hard while hiding behind a tree on campus. Perfect. Just perfect.
She gathers her textbooks first, then her glasses, but she doesn’t grab the sweater. Getting on her feet, she kicks it once more before bending to grab it, and I have to bite back another laugh.
Why the hell does she wear that sack if she hates it so much?
Why hide like this?
Doesn’t matter. I found her. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Chapter 3
Summer
Losing my shit on campus territory wasn’t on my to-do list, but at least no one’s around to witness it.
I got Atlas’s attention, and it went better than expected, yet instead of smiling about it, I’m kicking this gray eyesore like it personally offended me. My target, being alone and pissed off, was the perfect ‘meet-cute’ setup, because bad experiences tend to stick harder than good ones—a fucked-up evolutionary defense mechanism. I needed him on edge to make our meeting memorable, and as an added bonus, I left him scrambling for words.
My plan unfolded remarkably well, and I would’ve been celebrating that if it weren’t for this stupid sweater, which was starting to get itchy, and Trent Bane—the FBI agent who got me here—hadn’t called to warn me to stay away from Atlas Holt. How dare he tell me to move on, live my life, and forget the past! Like that’s going to happen. But it took him long enough to figure out Atlas attends this university, too.
Swearing under my breath, I pick up the sweater and take exactly three steps before a husky voice makes me stop.
“Haven’t seen you around.”
The sound leads me to dark blond hair and a set of blue eyes. A dull ache traverses my body at the instant reminder of my ex, but I close my eyes, purging the thoughts of Eli so I can focus on the present. Of course, this guy hasn’t seen me. Without my eyesore of a camouflage, I look like a completely different person to him.
“You haven’t looked.”
The guy smiles, and an all-too-charming dimple pops.
“I’m looking now.” He’s oblivious I’m immune to his type. “What’s your name?”
Is it worth answering this simple question when I have no interest in him? Against my better judgment, I do offera name.
“Summer.”
“I’m Will. So, are you giving me your number, Summer?”
“No!”
His smirk doesn’t read asOkay, I give up.
“Fine. No number.” Will raises his hands, then takes a few steps, shrinking the distance between us. “But how about you join me and my friends tomorrow night at Jinx? It’s a local nightclub, and I have a guy who can get us in. What do you say?”
“That you’re not getting lucky with me,” I answer, resuming my stride for the dorm.
“I’m getting lucky simply by looking at you.” He offers a beaming leer when I glance over my shoulder. “Come! You’ll have fun. No strings attached.”
Fun? With him? Probably as much fun as I’d have while playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun or a game of hot potato with explosives. Wait! I’ve played the latter with M-80 fireworks, and it was fun... up until one of my brother’s friends lost a finger. But who needs a pinky, anyway?
Yet the only person I’ve talked to in over six months is Trent.
“Okay. But your hands stay away from me. Got it?”
He nods with a smirk that suggests otherwise.
“Pick you up tomorrow at eleven?”
“Deal.”
