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“Girl, you’re drooling on your sandwich.” Sierra elbows me in the side, knocking me out of my Carson-filled thoughts.
When I swipe at my chin, all three of my so-called friends laugh.
“It was more of a figurative statement than a literal one,” she says with a smile.
I stick out my tongue as heat floods into my cheeks. It doesn’t take long before my gaze resettles on Carson. Only this time, there’s a girl seated next to him. If the blonde were any closer, she’d be perched on his lap. Jealousy rears its ugly head, bubbling up inside me like a geyser. I have no right to feel this way. Carson doesn’t belong to me. And, after our last conversation, he never will.
My heart constricts painfully. It’s not like I thought there was a snowball’s chance in hell we would get together, but to hear him say it so bluntly was like a punch to the gut. After he stalked out of the room, I’d wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. Refusing to dwell on the ugly memory, I shake myself out of it. Even though I should ignore them, that’s impossible. It’s like a car accident unfolding before my eyes and I’m powerless to look away.
The girl smiles coyly before leaning toward him and trailing her fingertips along his bicep. It’s not a conscious decision to dig through my bag until my fingers wrap around my cell and pull it free. I open the home screen and scroll through my messages until I find the texts from him. Then I tap out a sentence before hitting send.
Any chance you can help me with stats tonight?
My gaze remains fixated on him. There’s a part of me that wonders if he’ll even—
The girl continues to paw at him, inching closer, as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. A satisfied smile tips the corners of my lips when his brows snap together, and he frowns. Maybe he won’t bother to respond, but at least he’s no longer paying attention to my competition.
I wince.
According to Carson, I’m not even a contender.
My shoulders collapse.
Why am I putting myself through this?
I’ve never been that girl who throws herself at someone who isn’t interested. Over the years, I’ve stood on the sidelines and watched scores of females do that with both my brother and Carson. Actually, most of the guys on the team.
Just as I’m about to shove my phone back into my bag, a message pops up.
Can’t. Busy
Yeah, I can just imagine what he’ll be occupied with.
Or maybe I should say whom.
Ugh.
The only positive in this situation is that the girl parked next to him looks irritated by his lack of attentiveness. Her brows are slanted together as she flips her long hair over her shoulder.
Even though I know I shouldn’t...
My fingers swiftly tap out another message.
No worries. I’ll just work with Dr. H
I hesitate, recognizing that I shouldn’t be playing these games with him. Although, that realization isn’t enough to stop me from pressing the send arrow.
I don’t have to wait long for a reaction.
Even from this distance, I see the way his jaw clenches. When the girl next to him attempts to recapture his distracted attention by running her hand across his chest, he grabs hold of her wrist and removes it without so much as a glance in her direction. She scowls before rising to her feet and flouncing off in a huff.
Well...at least I don’t have to watch them flirt for the rest of lunch.
That’s something, right?
I’m busy gloating when a second text pops up on the screen.
Like hell you will
I glance at him from across the space. Everyone is talking and laughing, but he isn’t paying attention to their conversation. When Crosby waves a hand in front of his face, he glances up long enough to glower before staring down at his lap.
Guess there’s no other choice
I tack on the shrugging emoji.
He plows a hand through his hair before his head falls back and he stares at the ceiling.
His reaction is just so...interesting.
Fine. Library. 6pm
Too loud. Dorm. 7pm
He shakes his head as his lips flatten until they’re barely discernible. It’s the funniest thing. Am I a terrible person for enjoying this?
Probably.
Anticipation thrums through me as I stare at my phone and wait for a response. I’m not sure why this feels so important—like we’ve reached a turning point in our relationship—but it does. The longer he goes without responding, the antsier I become, wondering if I’ve pushed him too far.
Fine
Relief rushes from my lungs as I carefully set the phone next to my plate and smile.
And just like that, everything is looking up again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Carson
I stab the button for the elevator and impatiently wait for the doors to close. This decision already feels like a mistake, but that knowledge isn’t enough to stop it from coming to fruition. My foot taps as the two girls in the elevator whisper to each other, all the while sending coy looks at me from beneath their eyelashes. Instead of making eye contact, I keep my attention focused straight ahead. The last thing I want is to get embroiled in a conversation. I know exactly where it’ll lead, and I have zero interest in going there.
