Page 49 of Make Me Mean It

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CONNOR

Skipping coffee was a mistake.

I know this because the low whistle cutting across the courtyard makes me consider violence before nine in the morning.

Unfortunately, coffee hadn’t seemed particularly important when I was creeping around Theo’s bedroom trying to find my jeans without waking him.

Getting out had.

By the time I’d collected everything, pulled on my shoes and slipped through the door, I had barely enough time to make it across campus for my first lecture.

Thank fuck hockey players wake up at an indecent hour, or I’d be late enough to put an actual mark against my attendance, and I have no intention of letting Marcus’s inability to keep it in his pants be responsible for that.

I hitch my backpack higher and keep walking, letting the cold morning air sting some of the lingering exhaustion from my face.

It does absolutely nothing to get rid of Theo.

Every breath brings him with it, clean soap caught deep in the hoodie wrapped around me and that darker scent beneath it that I recognise before the thought even finishes forming.

I’ve apparently spent enough time around him that even halfway across campus, without him anywhere in sight, I know exactly what he smells like.

I can still see him when I left.

Curled into the sheets, dark hair sticking up in every direction, his mouth parted around quiet, steady snores. There’d been a faint crease pressed into his cheek from the pillow, softening his face in a way I’d never seen when he was awake.

I’d stared long enough for the details to stick.

The whistle comes again, closer this time, followed by the heavy slap of footsteps gaining quickly behind me.

“Fucking hell,” a familiar, sleep-rough voice pants.

My backpack is yanked backwards, the strap digging into my shoulder as I stumble half a step and whip around.

Theo is bent over in front of me, hands braced against his thighs while he tries to catch his breath.

His hair is somehow even more of a mess than it was when I left him asleep this morning, his t-shirt sitting crooked, the collar pulled low on one side to expose his collarbone.

He looks exactly like he just rolled out of bed, which makes sense considering it’s the same bed I climbed out of less than twenty minutes ago.

“Fuck,” Theo breathes, sucking in another lungful of air. “Why are you so fast?”

My brows pull together as I stare at him. I’m not prepared to deal with Theo yet, especially when every sleep-mussed inch of him keeps putting the sight of him sprawled across those dark sheets straight back in my head.

“You’re supposed to be an athlete,” I deadpan, fixing my attention over his shoulder.

Theo slowly straightens. “Not this early in the morning, I’m not.”

He pushes a hand through his hair, making an already impressive mess significantly worse, his forearm flexing.

“Bet your coach is thrilled.” I slide the strap of my bag higher. “You’re chasing me down looking like this, because?”

I know I’ve messed up before Theo even says anything, because his tongue catches at the corner of his mouth and that slow grin starts spreading across his face.

“Like what, princess?”

I grind my teeth, already regretting giving him anything to work with. “Forget it.”