Someone calls out my name as they saunter past. Just as I raise my hand in response, I catch sight of a familiar blonde head on the other side of the open space. I shift my stance and crane my neck, attempting to get a better look.
Yup, that’s definitely Sydney. It seems like everywhere I go, there she is. I’m about to force myself to turn away when I realize that she isn’t alone.
My brows snap together.
Wait just a minute...
Is that a guy sitting across from her?
All thoughts of the wrap I’d been about to grab disappear as I stalk through the Union to the table where Sydney and the interloper are parked. As I get closer, I realize there’s a tray with crumpled wrappers pushed off to the side, which means they must have grabbed a meal together.
What the hell is she doing, eating lunch with another guy when she’s fake dating me?
A genuine smile lights up her face as she laughs. Even from this distance, I hear the husky sound of her amusement. When was the last time she looked at me that way?
Happy and totally carefree.
Oh, right—it was never.
Sydney is more guarded in her responses when we’re together, as if she’s holding bits and pieces of herself back from me. Sure, she’ll laugh, but it’s never carefree and relaxed.
Who the hell is this douche?
My narrowed gaze lands on him. There’s something about the guy that has me suspecting he might be older. Most college students go for more casual, comfortable clothing. Instead of a T-shirt and jeans or athletic shorts, he’s wearing khaki pants and a crisp, blue button-down. His dark, wavy hair is styled instead of looking like he rolled out of bed in the morning and ran his hand absently through it.
Is this what she’s into?
Older dudes?
Something white hot bursts to life inside me before blazing its way through my body like molten lava. My feet almost stutter to a halt when I realize what this unknown emotion is.
Jealousy.
I’m fucking jealous.
Guess there really is a first time for everything. I’ve never liked a girl enough to feel this kind of all-consuming sensation take root inside me. I want to grab that guy by his perfectly pressed shirtfront and haul him to his feet. Maybe punch him in his pretty boy face a few times before tossing him to the side. How much would Sydney be smiling at him if I were to do that?
She wouldn’t be. Although, it’s doubtful she’d be showering me with happiness either.
I drag a hand through my hair as I consider how to play this. Unfortunately, there isn’t any more time for decisions. I’ve arrived at the table, and Sydney’s head is turning in slow motion. Her green eyes widen when she catches sight of me. Or maybe it’s my pissed-off expression that has her muscles tensing and her face freezing.
Not bothering with a greeting, I grab a chair from a nearby table and drag it next to hers before dropping down and slinging my arm around her shoulders. My gaze stays pinned to the guy across from her.
If this dude thinks he can just waltz in and steal my girl, he’s seriously mistaken.
Wait a minute...my girl?
Fuck.
This situation is much worse than I suspected. But there isn’t time to dwell on that now. I’ll deal with the ramifications later. First, I’ve got a douchebag to set straight.
“Hey, babe.” My other hand slides across her jaw, rotating it until she has no other choice but to meet my gaze. When she opens her mouth—most likely to ask what the hell I’m doing—I press my lips to hers. The kiss might be brief, but I’ve proven my point as to who this girl belongs to.
Me.
She belongs to me.
The asswipe seated across from us raises his brows as I give him a chin lift in silent greeting.
He settles back against his chair before crossing his arms over his chest, looking none too pleased that I’ve swooped in on his action. “Who are you?” he asks in a clipped tone.
Who am I?
Who am I?
That’s rich.
“Brayden Kendricks.” There’s a pause before I drop the bomb that should put an end to this. “Sydney’s boyfriend.”
“Huh. Well, that’s certainly interesting,” he muses, nodding in her direction. “My sister failed to mention that she recently acquired one of those.”
I’m sorry, come again?
Did he just say sister?
I give Sydney a bit of side-eye to get a read on the situation. By the tight slash of her lips, I’m fairly sure that I made a massive tactical error. One I can’t come back from.
Well, shit.
Everything inside me loosens as I hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Now that he’s pressing his lips together in the same way the girl bristling next to me is, I’m able to see the family resemblance. Although, it’s doubtful Sydney would appreciate me commenting on it.