Until her.
One chick, toward the back, stands out in particular. She sits in a regal way—back ramrod straight, chin lifted, fingers clasped on top of the tabletop. The chick isn’t exactly a nerd, but I wouldn’t say hot either.
Her sleek golden-blonde hair reaches about shoulder length, grazing her delicate collarbone as it curls inward. Nice tits are hidden behind too much clothing for this time of year, much to my annoyance. At least if I have to bother with her, having a nice rack to look at would be a perk. It’s clear she’s wound tight and has a stick jammed so far up her ass, I’ll never have a chance at pulling it out. My cocky smile and great physique are usually enough to get a woman to bend to my will, but something tells me Landry Croft will be different.
Some guy beside her with a lame-ass curly bush sprouting out of the top of his head is chirping things at her that only garner forced, polite smiles from her. He’s clueless. She won’t even look at him. The girl on her other side eyes me with interest and then leans in to whisper to a friend on the other side of her. I attempt to make eye contact with my mark, but she ices me and everyone else around her out, only looking ahead toward the professor’s podium.
I drop my bag on bush boy’s desk with a loud thunk, my laptop inside responsible for the sound. He jolts in surprise and quickly sizes me up. The wince I’m met with tells me he knows he’s no match.
“You’re in my seat, bro.” I casually thrust a thumb behind me. “Move.”
His mouth gapes open. “We don’t have assigned seats—”
“Man, I didn’t stutter.”
Iciness prickles over my skin. It takes all of two seconds to realize the chill isn’t coming from the air conditioner, but instead from the glare of the Croft girl. Good. She needs to understand I’m a part of her world now.
The dork at her side grumbles under his breath but complies with my demand. After he storms off, huffing insults under his breath as he passes me, I slip around the table and drop into the seat beside who I’m assuming is Landry.
“’Sup?” I give her my signature chin lift and smirk that makes women weak.
Her lip curls up in disgust. “You’re an asshole.”
So she has bite. A smile threatens to break free, but I stifle it. “And, after three seconds of being in here, I deduced you’re a bitch. Guess that makes us partners.”
She ignores me as she opens her notebook and neatly writes today’s date at the top of her paper. I watch each precise move with interest. As soon as she’s finished, she shoots me a sideways glare.
“Are you going to stare at me the whole time?”
I shrug and lean back in my seat, stretching my long, jean-clad legs out in front of me. Unfortunately, in order to fit in with the college vibe, I had to trade my suits in for this shit. “Probably. I hate English, so chances are I’ll be bored as fuck within ten minutes. Looks like I’ll have to settle for staring at you instead.”
“I wouldn’t waste your time,” she mutters, somehow sitting even straighter than before.
True to my word, I let my gaze sweep over her small, upturned nose and down to her plump pink lips. For a stuck-up princess, her mouth is tempting. No fucking lie. I bet, if coaxed just right, she could suck dick like a champ. My cock twitches in my jeans at the thought of this icy princess on her knees between my parted ones.
“Ford,” I lie, offering her my hand. “Ford Mann.” A play off my last name, Mannford. It was my suggestion to Bryant when he was handling the behind-the-scenes crap like creating a false identity. Sue me for unoriginality. “And you are…”
She cuts her attention down to my hand and denies my touch altogether before turning her brightly blazing blue eyes to mine. “Landry Croft.”
I was right.
Of course I was.
“Mmm.” I smirk at her. “Laundry. An unusual name.”
“Landry,” she corrects in a scathing tone. Her nostrils flare and pink races across her creamy cheeks. “Find someone else to bug. Not interested.” She turns forward and starts copying down into her notebook the stuff that’s been written on the board.
I watch her try to evade me all of ten seconds before I can’t stand it. The urge to poke at her is intense. Swiveling in my chair, I face her side and lean in so close I can smell her sweet perfume that clings to her shirt. Her entire body freezes and she doesn’t move away.
“You,” I murmur huskily near her ear, “don’t have a choice. It’s inevitable. Don’t act like I’m not the hottest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on.”