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“Yeah, I’ve seen you around.” But I didn’t tend to put a name to a face unless I needed to.
I left that to Kye. He could name every girl in our class, and probably recall their bra size and deep throating skills.
The guy was a fucking dog.
I preferred to keep my hookups to myself. Because sex wasn’t a sport for me, it was a transaction. A way to burn off some steam and keep the anger and resentment living inside me at bay.
I liked sex. Sure. But I had no interest in all the other stuff that came with it.
“So…” Freya bit down on her bottom lip in that way less than subtle way chicks did when they wanted something. “I’ve been plucking up the courage to talk to you since the semester started.”
“I don’t bite.”
“Not what I heard.” Her eyes sparkled with interest.
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
Even if, in this case, there was a smidge of truth in it.
“Do you want to find somewhere quiet to talk?”
“No can do, sorry.” I ran a hand through my dark hair. “I’m here with the guys.”
“Oh, okay.” Dejection washed over her. “Maybe another time.”
“Maybe.”
Without another word, I moved around her and went in search of liquor. At least liquor wouldn’t talk. It wouldn’t bat its eyelashes and try and lure me into its trap. It wouldn’t misread signals that weren’t there to begin with.
And liquor definitely wouldn’t abandon you in your hour of need.
* * *
“You turned her down? The fuck is wrong with you?” Kye gawked at me as I told him and Nix about Freya.
I was buzzed. All the vodka running hot through my veins.
“She’s not my type,” I grumbled.
“But she basically offered to fuck you.”
“You don’t have to stick it in anything wearing a skirt, you know, Carter,” Nix chuckled at him.
“You’re an asshole,” I added.
“Didn’t know you cared about the fairer species?”
“I don’t.” I shrugged, nursing my beer. I wanted to keep the buzz, but I didn’t want to be so wasted I couldn’t rush home if Grams needed me.
“Not even a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed genius from across the res?” He taunted, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“Fuck off,” I grumbled.
Shewas the last person I wanted to think about.
Celeste Rowe.
Harleigh Wren’s half-sister and a perpetual thorn in my side.
