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And his mouth.
That sinfully delicious mouth.
Guys should not be allowed to have mouths like that. Or kiss like that. They could turn a poor girl’s mind to mush.
I mean…
Asdfghjkl…
Whatever had just happened between Damien and me had been way too hot, way too personal, and way too…well, tooeverything.
Completely overwhelmed, I shook my head and blew out a breath, trying to breathe normally again.
You know how to reach me.
Damn him. I wanted to hunt up my phone and text him that very moment. I had wanted to get down and dirty with him since the first day he’d jogged by and I’d seen him through the window. But this…
Yeah, I didn’t have time for whatever this was. It was too involved, too complicated, and just…
Too much, that’s what it was. And if anything in my life was going to be too much right now, it’d have to be too much school.
Pushing away from the door, I smoothed my hands down my sides and stepped forward, determined to put all this behind me. I had classes to prepare for. I was here in this town, renting a room in this apartment to attend Haverickand get my journalism degree,notto get busy with the landlord.
Andsomeday, I was going to be the best damn anchorwoman there was.
So there.
Head on straight again with my priorities back in working order, I hurried upstairs to shower and prepare for the day.
Half an hour later, I was strolling back down the steps and fastening my horseshoe necklace around my neck—because Jaylani had insisted thatallthe HaveU students wore them—ready to take on the rest of my life.
Hefting my book bag onto my shoulder, I briefly debated my transportation options. If I took Bridleway, it was about a fifteen-minute hike to campus, but if I drove, parking would be a pain in the ass. So I settled for the brisk walk.
Summer was melting away, and there was the slightest chill in the air accompanying me.
As soon as I reached the manicured lawns, maze of sidewalks, and uniquely designed buildings named after people I’d never heard of, I veered toward the journalism complex, otherwise known as the Irene Hill School of Journalism.
The building was split into three sections: the newspaper, the radio station, and the video broadcasting center. As I headed up the steps toward the second floor, where the broadcasting department was, I held my chin a little bit higher, proud I was here at all. I didn’t even care that being a new transfer put me at the bottom of the hierarchy, even below underclassmen. I washere.
And I was fixin’ to give my first video-recorded report for the university’s news station because the girl who’d beenscheduledto give it—Blaire—had been sick all week. I’d even researched and written the entire article myself about the influx of recent international students and how that influenced and benefited the entire campus. It was an awesome article, if I did say so myself, and I’d even worn my favorite blue and cream power suit to read it in.
I looked good, let me tell you, and when I stepped into the journalism room, I was jazzed and ready to deliver a killer performance.
Until I saw Blaire sitting at the makeup station and getting her face powdered.
* * *
To say the least,I didn’t get to give my presentation.
ButBlaireused my write-up since she’d been too sick to research and write one herself.
I knew the grade for the research and writing part would still go to me, but I was miffed about losing out on the opportunity to get my face in front of a camera. And by the time lunch rolled around, I needed someone to bitch to. Urgently.
Thankfully, Jaylani said she was free that hour and was only studying with a lab partner in the student center’s cafeteria, so I should totally join them.
I agreed and had worked myself into quite a fit of indignant anger by the time I arrived. Beyond ready to vent, I waved at my bestie and the stranger sitting across the table from her as I hurried forward.
“Hey, this is Raina,” she said, motioning toward the gorgeous, auburn-headed doll who smiled up at me in greeting and waved.
