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“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’d like that.”
He pinched the tip of my chin and jogged off toward two guys who waited for him.
"Bow chicka wow,” India mumbled, lifting a brow at me. “That’s not the roommate I presume?”
“Ohno,” I said wrapping up the remains of my sandwich. “Not him, King and I have gone out a few times.”
India smiled, her gaze moved out the window and she froze. “Uh, is your roommate, Maverick Booker?”
I glanced up. “How did you know that?”
She pointed. “Because he looks pissed off, and I know it’s not at me.”
Maverick stood in the quad, two other football players talking amongst themselves, while he glared at me. I hated myself for tensing but I did, and my stomach heated into a melting pit of fire.
His jaw worked as he clenched it. I hated how badly my body wanted him, and how sexy he looked in a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt.
After a two-minute stare-off, I glanced down at the table. “That’s him, alright.”
India chuckled. “My roommate Waverly has the hots for him, but now I can see why he isn’t interested. He likes you, my dear.” She waved a fry at me.
I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. I wouldn’t categorize what Maverick and I had asliking one another. We couldn’t stand each other most days, but the need to kiss him, touch him, had slapped me in the face like a brick.
So sudden.
It hadn’t been like this in high school, had it?
The one time a boy spoke to me then almost seemed like a faraway dream. Peter Knight played chess, participated on the debate team, and held a killer GPA. He’d been cute and a little dorky.
Sandy brown hair, thick-framed glasses, and a sweet smile. I’d dared to catch glimpses of him during computer lab.
I’d been sitting alone in the cafeteria, eating the remains of our Asian-inspired dinner from the night before, thinking of ways I’d avoid Maverick in the hallway after lunch.
Peter made eye contact with me from the salad line. I smiled when he waved, my gaze darted from him to Maverick’s usual seat. It sat empty. I sighed in relief. Peter walked down the aisle and stopped in front of me.
“Hey, Josie, right?”
“Yeah. And you’re Peter?”
He beamed. “Can I sit?”
“Sure,” I said straightening my posture, suddenly not feeling so alone in the crowded lunchroom. “We have computer lab together,” I said.
Peter nodded knowingly. I prayed he didn’t know I watched him like a girl with her first crush. We chatted about our teachers, the terrible lunches, and our debate team's winning streak.
A silence settled over the cafeteria, the cheer table giggled and I caught a glimpse of what held their attention. Maverick strolled into the white-bricked room, jersey hanging over his shoulder, a strut only he could conquer.
Before I could adjust my stare, his gaze slid to mine and his shoulders tensed. An entire year later I still didn’t know what I’d done to him. Maverick’s Adam’s apple bobbed deep in his throat, his gaze on the back of Peter’s head.
Oh no.
I knew before it happened that Peter wouldn’t talk to me anymore. It’d happen with every person that showed any interest in me. One day they’re normal, and the next, I’m back to the leper he made me.
When lunch ended, I bee-lined toward my next class, only stopping briefly by my locker. The path to Chemistry took me through the main building, across the courtyard, and toward the fieldhouse.
I dreaded it every day. I’d tried numerous routes to get there and he always found me. Today was no different. I rounded the corner of the building, Maverick reached out from a small alcove built into the brick and pushed me into the corner.
His scent I noticed first, the sweet smell of his breath hit my parted mouth. I never understood how his smell made me feel so good and him be so cruel.
