Campus God (Campus)

Yup.

Does my heart beat out of control every time my phone dings with an incoming message?

Guilty.

As I walk through the large space which is crowded with students who have the same idea, I glance at the different restaurants. There’s pizza, sandwiches, bowls, and salads.

I can almost hear my mother’s voice chirping in my ear that I should pick something low calorie. It’s for that reason that I beeline for the chicken sandwiches. Elaine spent years clucking her tongue and making passive aggressive comments about the foods I needed to stay away from. It wasn’t until I moved away and started seeing a counselor freshman year of college that I realized how dysfunctional our relationship was.

Once I reach the counter, I grab a sandwich along with a fruit bowl instead of French fries, and a bottle of water. Those are my concessions. What I learned in counseling is that it’s all about moderation. I can have something I’m craving if I balance it with other healthy options. After my tray has been loaded, I look around for Sasha. As soon as I do, she pops up like a meerkat and waves wildly from a booth.

“Hey, girl,” she says as I slide onto the opposite side of the table before pointing to my tray. “This is exactly why we’re such good friends. Great minds think alike.”

That’s when I notice her lunch mirrors mine, down to the water and fruit cup. I grin as we both dig in.

“I’m famished,” she says around her chicken sandwich.

“Me, too.”

Sasha is the goaltender for the Western Wildcats women’s soccer team. She could probably eat several sandwiches in one sitting and still burn off all the extra calories running around the field for a two-hour practice. The girl can pack it away and never gain a pound.

Bitch.

I’m halfway through my meal when my phone dings. I glance down and find a photo of myself eating lunch.

You’re even hotter in person.

Eyes widening, I nearly choke on my chicken before swinging around to scan the vicinity. Exactly who I’m searching for remains a mystery. Maybe I thought he’d be standing a few feet away with a smile on his face and somehow, I’d instantly know it was him. Instead, people are strolling by with their lunches in hand, talking with friends and finding a place to settle.

My heart jackhammers beneath my breast as I tap out a message with shaking fingers.

You’re here?

Was. Had to grab something and run.

Disappointment wells up inside before nearly drowning me. I can’t believe we were so close. Why didn’t he say something? More than anything, I want to put a face to the guy I’ve been spending so much time thinking about. At this point, I don’t care what he looks like. Short or tall. Thick or thin. Handsome or not…

All right, so maybe I know he has a jacked body.

Before I can fire off another message, Easton drops down beside Sasha and presses a kiss against her lips. These two…

They’re so stinking perfect for one another. I have no idea how they couldn’t see it before a month or so ago. Especially since they can’t seem to keep their hands off one another.

They also make me realize how wrong Andrew and I were for each other and how I tried to fool myself into believing that we weren’t. Instead of acknowledging my concerns and doing something about it, I swept them under the rug and pretended they didn’t exist. I will never allow that to happen again.

I’m slammed from those thoughts when a hard body slides in next to me. When a hip brushes against mine, I quickly scoot over so there’s a bit of space between us. I glance at the person next to me, only to find Crosby’s dark eyes staring back.

Everything inside me freezes. I’m like a deer trapped in the headlights of oncoming traffic. This is exactly what he does to me.

Why is he here?

Invading my personal space.

Not to mention, my peace of mind.

I automatically steel myself, waiting for a snarky greeting. I’m sure he’ll have something ugly to say. He always does.

When I raise my brows, only wanting to get it over with, he gives me a chin lift in greeting. “Hey.”

I glance around the table, confused at what’s unfolding. Under normal circumstances, we go to great lengths to avoid each other, and yet here he is, sitting next to me as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Weirder than that, a full minute has ticked by without him attempting to cut me to pieces with his sharp tongue. Even his ever-present smirk is strangely absent.

I’d love to brush aside the greeting and ignore him, but the manners Elaine drilled into my head win out, making it impossible.

“Hi,” I mumble, unsure where we go from here. We’ve never actually engaged in a civil conversation.