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But like the idiot I am, I waited too long to make my move. She started dating some jerk and I remained in the friendzone.
They’re not together anymore, though. So when I spot her standing in the bookstore, looking hot as hell, I don’t hesitate. This may be my only shot with her so I’m not going to blow it.
Only, that’s exactly what I do.
Because instead of rekindling our friendship and moving slow, I end up devouring her lips and taking her back to my place. Worshipping her for hours. And almost letting my true feelings slip.
Would that be so bad?
Yes. Because she’s made it clear that we’re friends, even if we can’t seem to keep our clothes on when we’re around each other. Which is why we’re sneaking around.
If she only knew how I really felt, maybe things would be different.
Then again, opening myself up to her could expose my darkest secret. One that I haven’t even shared with my friends, my brothers, the people who know me the best.
Telling her my secret could also set me free. Because when I’m with her, that’s how I feel.
Free.
Of the burden. Of the memories. Of my reality.
MYA
My heart stops beating. I suck in a deep breath and hold it as I watch him browse the shelves. My lungs burn as I continue to stare in awe of the man I've been lusting after for two long years.
Two years he's only ever seen me as a friend.
I've accepted that friendship since he's never given me any indication he was looking for more. Not just from me, but from anyone.
I've heard rumors, of course.
That he sneaks around with girls. To fill his needs and nothing more. But that's all they are— rumors. No one can seem to prove anything. No one can confirm details. And no none is confessing to being the person he's with.
Basically, I'm jealous of imaginary women who have potentially shared his bed.
The fire inside my chest becomes too much to bear. Slowly, releasing the breath I've been holding, I turn my back on the man I often dream about. Drool over. Ogle when I'm sure no one will notice, especially him.
He's a mystery to everyone, including myself. Even though we're friends, and I use that term somewhat loosely, I don't know much about him aside from the fact he's pre-med and rides a motorcycle. His muscular arms and shoulders are covered in tattoos, currently hidden beneath a leather jacket.
If I were to pigeonhole him, he'd be a bad boy. He puts off a rough, mysterious vibe. But after spending an entire semester studying with him, I also know he has a heart of gold. A sweeter side. The leather jacket and motorcycle aren't for appearances. He's not trying to look a certain part. In fact, he may dress the opposite of who he really is.
It all adds to his appeal, though.
Girls in college aren't looking for a guy they can bring home to Daddy. They're looking for one who will ideally piss him off. They want to rebel against everything their parents have warned them about.
And guys who look like Brady fit the mold perfectly.
Every girl's wet dream
A good time wrapped in a pretty package that Daddy would never approve of.
You don't consider him a forever kind of guy. He's the naughty mistake you make over and over again until the fun ends, the appeal wearing off.
Frowning at the thought, I attempt to focus on the rows and rows of textbooks in front of me. I already amassed a stack of books that are currently weighing my arms down. The walk back to the Zeta house is going to be hell. If Kora hadn't parked behind me, I would have driven, but she refused to wake up when I beat on her door this morning.
I reach for the shelf above my head, pressing the four other books and study materials against my chest for balance, when a hand suddenly reaches over my shoulder and startles me.
The books crash to the floor, causing me to jump backward, bumping into a rock-hard body. One hand snakes around my waist to keep me from falling, while the other snags the book I was reaching for.
