The Senior (College Years 4)

“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t regret it at all. That first conversation between us after the breakup needed to happen. Maybe…eventually, we can be friends.”

Doubtful. I can’t be just Eli’s friend. Not after he kissed me like he did.

I don’t know what to do about this. About us.

So I’m going to pretend nothing ever happened. It’s easier that way.

Safer.

The hairs on my arms prickle with awareness, as if someone is watching me, and I glance over my shoulder to find it’s Eli standing with his friends, a beer clutched in his hand and a thunderous expression on his face. He doesn’t look away from me. He just stares, as if daring me to do something, to say something.

I stare at him in return, half tempted to go to him. But that would be stupid.

So stupid.

Instead, I turn back around, smiling at something Hayden says, even though I have no idea exactly what it was. I nod and laugh, grateful I haven’t had a drop of alcohol tonight. I experienced that kiss with Eli completely sober, and God, it had been so good.

Freaking magical.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been held by someone who isn’t my family or a close friend. I crave closeness.

Ugh.

I crave Eli.

Even if I can’t have him.

Ever again.

Seven

Eli

“Women fucking suck.” I chuck the basketball straight at Caleb, who makes a groaning noise when it smacks him in the abs. “Let’s go.”

I chase him down the basketball court, trying to steal the ball from him, but the fucker is fast. Sometimes we like to play one on one, just to change it up, and our apartment complex has an outdoor court that no one ever uses—except for us.

Like now. On a cool Sunday afternoon, when we should be chillin’ or working on homework or what the hell ever. Instead, we’re dribbling up and down the court, antagonizing each other playing a sport neither of us are particularly good at, but because we’re elite athletes, we’re pretty fuckin’ good.

I slap the ball out of Caleb’s hands and spin, racing toward my hoop, shooting the ball a little earlier than I normally do when, lo and behold, that thing hits the rim and bounces through the hoop.

“Take that!” I yell at Caleb with a laugh.

He grabs the ball and starts jogging to the other side of the court, deceptively at ease. I know the second I lunge for him, he’ll probably send me falling on my ass. “Show off,” he mutters as he passes me.

I run halfheartedly behind him, not one hundred percent into it. I drank too much last night and woke up hungover this morning. I also can’t stop thinking about Ava and her mouth.

All I want to do is kiss it.

My dream girl has turned into my worst nightmare. She wants me still. Last night’s entanglement proves it. Fuck, I want her too. But I’m still mad—and I’m sure she is too. We may have talked, but we didn’t resolve anything.

Not a damn thing.

I have a good feeling about this though. About us. At the very least, we can use each other for sex for a while.

I frown, stop

ping in my tracks as I rest my hands on my hips.