The Sophomore (College Years 2)

“He’s just a friend. He was supposed to pick me up, but he forgot,” I say nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal.

“Oh.” Carson nods, still a little confused. “Okay. He seemed kind of mad.”

Major understatement, but I don’t correct him.

“He’s fine.” I wave a hand. “Don’t worry about him.”

The thing is, Jackson didn’t actually forget me. He just fell asleep, like I originally thought. And he seemed really pissed that Carson was here to get me. I probably shouldn’t have gone with Carson, but I felt bad for dragging him out here. Plus, I was still mad, thinking Jackson forgot about me, and then he showed up. Enraged and hot and bossy…I just reacted. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me. Which is silly and petty but…

I’ve made my choice, and I sort of regret it. What I’ve actually done is made everything worse, but it’s too late now.

We make idle small talk while Carson drives me home, but I’m distracted. I swear to God, we’re being followed. By Jackson. And maybe we are.

Or maybe I’m reading too much into things. He wouldn’t follow me. He doesn’t care that much.

By the time we’re at my apartment complex, I’m exhausted. “Thank you for coming to my rescue,” I tell Carson. “Sorry that was such a pain with Jackson.”

“It’s cool. Tell him I didn’t mean anything by showing up,” Carson says, ever the polite one.

I smile and climb out of his car. “I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I didn’t mind coming to get you. I swear,” Carson says.

“You’re the best,” I tell him with a weak smile. “See you tomorrow.”

I shut the door and he watches me approach my apartment building, only leaving when I wave, and he must view it as me reassuring him I’m safe.

What a nice guy. He’s such a good guy.

Seriously, what am I doing, wasting my time with Jackson?

Another car pulls into the lot, and I immediately recognize it. A Mercedes. Jackson, of course. As if he’s been lying in wait for Carson to leave before he makes his approach. Anger courses through my veins and I march back out to the parking lot, heading straight for Jackson’s car. He climbs out of the driver’s side, his expression thunderous as he slams the door as loud as he can.

“You followed us? I knew it!”

“Why did you leave with him? Huh?” He throws his arms out, impressing me momentarily with his wingspan. Oh my God, if I could punch myself in the face right now, I so would. “You knew I was coming.”

“That’s the thing. I had no idea if you would show up or not. You never responded,” I remind him.

“I did respond. I was a little late, but damn it, I showed up. You gotta have more faith in me, El. Like I said, I will always be there for you,” he says.

“Why? Am I your charity case, Jackson? You always want to run to my rescue. My knight in shining armor. Your job isn’t to save me, I hope you know,” I retort, crossing my arms.

“I don’t think of it as a job. I always want to help you. What the hell is wrong with that? You’re making it into an accusation, like it’s a character flaw,” he says.

“It is! You want to be my hero, and I don’t need one. I just want you to be my friend,” I throw at him.

He stops short, his hands on his hips, his gaze dark. “Just my friend?”

I sink my teeth into my lower lip, releasing it quick when his gaze drops to my mouth. “Y-yeah.”

“You don’t sound too sure of that.” He takes a step toward me. Then another one. I’m frozen in place, my breaths coming too fast, my heart in my throat. He stops directly in front of me, so close he’s practically standing on top of my feet, but I keep my head bent. Too scared to look in his eyes. Or stare at his chest. It’s a fabulous chest. One I want to rest my head against so I can listen to his heartbeat. “That’s all you want from me?”

“What do you want from me?” I ask the ground, hating how shaky my voice is.

His fingers slip beneath my chin, tipping my face up. His eyes are blazing with a mixture of emotions, none of them familiar. His expression is pained. He seems tortured. Confused. Mad.

Hungry.