Eating Her Heart Out

Katie’s eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat. I willed her not to say anything about it, and whether she made the decision on her own or I Jedi mind tricked her, she didn’t comment on my slip of the tongue.

“You can’t change what he looks like.”

“Who?” My brows furrowed, a little confused at her sudden subject change.

“The man I dream about as my future husband. No one will ever be able to change my mind. He’s it for me.” Then she turned and jogged up the stairs, leaving me stunned and speechless in the hallway.

I didn’t know whether to be angry, devastated, or hopeful that she was talking about me. I landed on determined instead. I knew she couldn’t hear me, but I still muttered, “We’ll see.”

It didn’t matter who she pictured right now. When our time finally came, she’d never see anyone else but me for the rest of her life.

1

Katie

Staring at the dozen long-stemmed red roses that had been delivered for me this afternoon, I wanted nothing more than to toss them in the trash. They were gorgeous and exactly what most women wanted for Valentine’s Day. Their only crime was that they weren’t from the right man.

Over winter break, I’d somehow managed to fall for my brother’s best friend, who I was pretty sure had put me into the friend zone after knocking my socks off with an incredible kiss. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I’d also somehow managed to pick up a super persistent secret admirer only one week later.

The first gift had been innocent enough—a latte and pumpkin bread from the coffee house just off-campus. I’d thought one of my sorority sisters had gotten them for me, but nobody took credit for the thoughtful gesture. I was stumped until I finally noticed that it said “secret admirer” under the sleeve on the coffee cup where the barista normally put the name. Something new had been dropped off for me at least once a week without fail. A new pair of mittens, a novel from my favorite author, even a pizza exactly how I liked it—extra cheese and green peppers. The gifts varied, but they all had one thing in common…they demonstrated that my secret admirer knew me well.

My head jerked up at the quick knock on my door. “Hurry up, Katie! You’re going to miss the party!”

“Coming,” I hollered back.

Glaring at the roses one final time, I slipped my feet into a pair of strappy heels. I used to be the first one down for any party my sorority hosted, but I wasn’t in the mood to be social today. Which wasn’t like me at all. But the situation with my secret admirer irritated me, and I missed Sawyer so much that it was making me cranky.

Over the past two months, I’d often considered asking my sorority sisters if they had any idea who my secret admirer could be. Mostly so I could ask him to knock it off. Instead, I kept his existence to myself, not saying a word about the gifts he’d sent. I would’ve gotten all sorts of questions about why I wasn’t excited by all the possibilities a secret admirer presented. Then I would have had to tell them about Sawyer, and I just wasn’t ready to share the story about how I’d fallen for Jesse’s best friend almost as quickly as I’d tumbled down my parents’ front steps, and he’d saved me from getting hurt. Swoon.

If I’d gotten my happily ever after like Delia did with Danny before she left for Christmas break or Olivia had with Leland—who’d given her a freaking engagement ring on New Year’s Eve—then they probably would’ve had to beg me to stop talking about Sawyer. But that wasn’t how things had gone down for me because the wrong guy was interested in something romantic.

No matter how sweet the presents were from my secret admirer, none of them gave me the same thrill as a simple text from Sawyer. We hadn’t seen each other since he’d kissed me under the mistletoe after I’d hinted at my feelings for him, but he must’ve gotten my phone number from my brother because he’d sent me a text the next day. It was a picture of a mug of hot chocolate with a note telling me mine was better than his mom’s but that he’d never admit it to her.

We’d gotten to know each other so well, and there were even more than a few times when I wondered if he was flirting with me. But he never really crossed the line, so I couldn’t be sure.

Communicating with Sawyer via text had one huge advantage—I rambled a lot less because I wasn’t distracted by how hot he was. At six-foot-three, with plenty of muscles, short brown hair that was a little longer in front, a chiseled jaw, and smoldering, dark blue eyes, Sawyer had kick-started my long-dormant libido. Big time.