My mind spins, attempting to find a way to backtrack from this mortifying conversation. Unfortunately for me, I’m not running on all cylinders.
It’s painful to admit that I’d had a bit of a thing for Brayden first semester of freshman year. Even thinking about it makes me wince. My only consolation is that I certainly wasn’t the only one. To this day, girls crush hard on the handsome football player. The guy wasn’t crowned Campus Heartbreaker three years in a row for nothing. With his dark hair and eyes, it’s not difficult to fall straight into lust with him.
And I had.
Hard.
I’d sighed and stared every time I caught sight of him across campus like a giddy schoolgirl. One night at a party, we ended up talking. One thing led to another and suddenly we were making out. When the petting turned hot and heavy, I’d pumped the brakes, not wanting to go any further. Even in my alcohol-infused state, I’d realized that I didn’t want to have sex at a frat house. Brayden had seemed cool with that. He’d asked for my number, told me he would text the next day and...
Never bothered.
In all honesty, I could have lived with that. Guys are notorious for pulling that kind of crap all the time. What was more difficult to swallow was seeing him at a party the next night, making out with another girl.
Here’s the kicker—he’d looked me straight in the eyes and acted like he didn’t know who the hell I was. At the time, I’d assumed he was being a dick. Like it was some kind of game to see how many girls he could tag and bag in a weekend. If I’d been looking for a way to rid myself of the unwanted crush, that had done the trick.
I’ve made it a point to steer clear of Brayden like an incurable STI ever since.
Can you blame me?
I’m startled back to the present when strong fingers fasten around my chin and manually turn my face until I have no other choice but to meet Brayden’s unwavering stare head on. Unwanted attraction sizzles through me at the innocuous contact. I’m so tempted to rip my chin from his grip. I don’t want him touching me, forcing me to feel sensations I’d prefer didn’t exist.
What doesn’t make sense is that I dated Ethan for six months and he never stirred these kinds of emotions inside me. Neither did the long string of guys that came before him. There was never this combustible energy that hummed beneath the surface like a live wire.
Brayden Kendricks is the last man I want to find myself drawn to.
And yet...I am. There doesn’t seem to be a way to extinguish the combustible chemistry between us. Even after freshman year and all the manwhoring I’ve been privy to. I want to shake my head in disgust. Not at him, but at myself for being one of those stupid girls I like to glare at.
Why him?
The question is asked almost desperately.
Why am I so attuned to a guy who sleeps around like it’s his job and treats girls like they’re throwaways?
It only makes me feel more pathetic. And that’s the last thing I need while battling a raging hangover.
“Hey,” he says when I fail to respond, “what’s happening here?” A strange urgency fills his voice. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.”
I realize by the steely look in his eyes that he won’t be dropping the subject until I give him the answers he’s searching for, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. “There’s nothing going on.”
His dark eyes sharpen. “That’s doubtful. If I’ve learned anything about you, it’s that there is always something going on up here.” He gently taps the side of my head with his finger. “How about you tell me, and I’ll decide for myself.”
When I huff out an irritated breath, his grip tightens on my chin, holding me firmly in place. We stare silently as the tension ratchets up until it becomes almost unbearable. Any moment, I’m going to burst into flames. This unwanted attraction that floods through me at his barest touch is ridiculous. “We hooked up freshman year.”
Shock washes over his features. “We slept together?”
I shake my head and glance away. “No, it never went that far. We fooled around for a while and then you asked for my number and told me you would text. Shocker, you never bothered. The next night, I saw you making out with someone else.” My tone is clipped. The last thing I want is for him to realize how much it wounded me.
His fingers turn slack before his hand falls away and he leans against the seat, almost as if he’s trying to put as much space between us as possible. Emotion flickers across his face as his eyes turn cloudy. “I’m sorry, Syd. I don’t remember.”