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“I…I…I can’t explain it. I’ve known her since she was born. I don’t know how to explain it, but something happened back in December when we were at the cemetery, and since then I can’t get her out of my fucking head.” I stand up in frustration, not at him but myself, at the situation. “I don’t know what I’m doing. No matter how much I’ve tried not to think about her, I just can’t.”
“Is that why you were avoiding her after the break?”
I nod. “Was it that obvious?”
He shrugs and places his coffee cup in the sink. “I mean, a little, but it was more the weird way you blew off that Hannah chick at the bar. I’ve known you a year and have never seen you turn down pussy, minus that bartender.”
I run my hands down my face and grunt. “I know. Ever since I started seeing her differently, I haven’t had sex with anyone but myself.”
Kyler chokes on air and bursts out laughing. In between his laughter, he manages to get out, “Well, that’s good to know…I guess. Actually, no, I feel like maybe there should be some things we as friends and roommates maybe, ya know, keep to ourselves. Like maybe our sex lives—or, well, in your case, lack of.”
He chuckles. What an asshole. I knew I shouldn’t have told him the truth. I’m never going to hear the end of it, I’m sure.
I roll my eyes at him and get up to leave, but he stops me. “Okay, in all seriousness, though, have you talked to her about it?”
I look down at my feet, knowing that nothing is ever going to come of this if I don’t talk to her about it. I wish I had the slightest clue as to what to say. This area is not my specialty.
“I’m going to take your silence as that’s a big no. You want my advice?”
“Even if I say no, I’m pretty sure you’re going to give it anyway.”
He flips me the middle finger. “Just for that, never mind.”
He goes to leave, and I grab his arm. “I’m sorry. What’s your advice? At this point, I’ll take anything. I’m in way over my head here. I’m not this guy, but she…she makes me want to be.”
Kyler steps back as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Fuck, I can’t believe that I’m even saying this. Who am I and what did I do with Zach Jacobs?
“Wow, you’re kinda desperate, aren’t you?”
He has no fucking clue.
“Just talk to her. For all you know she could be feeling the same thing and is just as weirded out that it’s, well, you.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But thanks.” I look at my phone. “Shit, I gotta go. Thanks for the chat.”
As I walk toward the door to grab my keys, I hear Kyler mumble, “Sure sounds like she’s knocked you on your ass,” as he walks back into his room.
Woah. In a bit of a déjà vu moment, I remember back to the talk Emmett and I had. No, that couldn’t be it. There’s no way. I remember his words as clear as day: “You’ll find her, and you’ll just know. She’s gonna knock you on your ass.”
Could I have already met her?
Pushing the thoughts from my head, I head over to the dorms, thoughts of our last talk still swirling around in my head, and I am almost knocked on my ass—literally—when Haylee opens the door. Not only is she absolutely breathtaking, but at some point since I last saw her, she changed her hair color. I am taken aback by this gorgeous blonde bombshell staring at me and am rendered speechless for the first time in my life.
“Holy shit.”
Well, that’s one way to greet someone. Concerned that I have something on me, I frantically pat my clothing, checking for something, anything that causes a reaction like that. When I threw this outfit together because he said “comfortable,” I didn’t think it looked that bad. Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps he should give a little more heads-up next time.
Looking around, I say, “Do I have something on me?”
My eyes meet his, and his blank stare fills with confusion. “No, why?”
I stop feeling around. “Then why did you say ‘holy shit’ as soon as I answered the door?”
“Oh no.” He steps closer, and his fingers glide over my new hair.
Oh right, I forgot he hadn’t seen me since I went to the salon the other day. I had just needed a change. At Cami’s suggestion, I made an appointment with her stylist and here we are. It has for sure taken some getting used to. Every time I look in the mirror, it’s as if I don’t recognize the person looking back at me.
“You just…” I can tell he’s searching for the right words.
