All the Right Moves (All The Right Moves 3)

“Of course we’re cool. You didn’t exactly shove me out the window, Ty. I did it myself.” I pause before adding, “You didn’t seem so worried when I was dangling out your window. Besides. That happened almost three weeks ago.”

He scratches his head. “It did?”

Oh boy. Time to call Aunt Monica.

“Yup, sure did. But don’t worry, as you can see, I survived.” I give him a weak smile and readjust my heavy backpack. And I’m sorry if it sounds harsh, but struggling through this conversation—or lack thereof—with Tyler is killing me softly. He’s my cousin, but I’ve been a witness to his irresponsible and erratic behavior for twenty years. Therefore, I’m allowed to be irritated.

“Are you coming to the Kappa O ‘Comeoniwannalayya’ Luau this weekend?”

I laugh, shaking my head, and fan my fingers through my loose hair. “I think I’ve filled my yearly quota for your frat parties. Sorry.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna let one walk of shame keep you from coming back? That is weak. So weak.”

Pfft. “I only came to the last one because you begged me to, and because you were celebrating your appointment to executive board.” And because my mom paid me fifty dollars. “You know those things aren’t my scene.”

He looks about as disgusted as a stoner can get. “How is it possible that we’re related?”

“Trust me, I wonder the same thing every single day.”

I glance over his shoulder to the campus beyond, having lost all interest in the discussion, and give a start—Caleb is walking toward us, crossing the campus commons, his steely gaze fastened on me like I’m in his crosshairs.

I straighten and try not to completely ignore Tyler beside me, but it’s hard.

Impossible.

This is the first time I’ve seen Caleb on campus, and it’s disarming. Tall, broody, and determined, his stride a relaxed gait, and the closer he gets, I can see a smile tipping his mouth into a curve.

And he’s wearing his glasses.

Wow. Just… wow.

If I thought he was cute before, I was sadly mistaken. This Caleb… sheesh. He's a hybrid, athletic, and sexified version of Superman’s Clark Kent. A studly, silent, glasses-wearing jock I’ve developed a big, fat, sloppy, teenage-style crush on all over again.

Ugh, he’s so damn good looking.

And he doesn’t even realize it.

His eyes move from me to Tyler, and instantly his hooded stare gets moody from beneath the ball cap, hoodie, and black frames.

He approaches almost cautiously, removing his ear buds before arriving at my side and bending at the waist slightly to plant a quick kiss on the top of my head. “Hey.”

If I died now, I would die happy.

“Uh… hey?” I blush from the tip of my toes to my hairline as his arm slips possessively around my waist. Guh! Physical contact in public! I swallow a nervous squeak.

“What the hell is going on?” Tyler interjects, his confused expression comical as he glances down between our bodies at the hand resting on my hip.

I clear my throat restlessly. “Tyler, this is Caleb. Caleb, this is… um, my cousin, Tyler.”

Neither of them reaches out to greet each other with the customary handshake.

Tyler squints his weed-induced haze at Caleb. “Dude. Do I know you?”

Caleb shrugs his broad shoulders, and I stifle a groan, knowing that this whole run-in is going to get back to my Aunt Monica—and hence, my parents.

I can hear the conversation now: “Tyler tells us you’re dating someone and that he is a very rude young man. Abby, your studies come first. First, you room with that inappropriate Jenna girl, and now you’re dating a hoodlum? This is so unlike you.”

Tyler persists. “I know I’ve seen you before, I just can’t figure out where.”

Internally, I groan and shoot Tyler an exasperated look that says knock it off. “Well, you do throw a lot of parties over at the Kappa house. Maybe you’ve seen him there.” I give a tight-lipped smile.

“Maybe.” He’s unconvinced and looks down again at Caleb’s arm around my waist, staring long and hard enough to make me fidget. I wonder what he sees as he peers at us and what he could possibly be thinking, because I’ve never dated anyone on campus, let alone a hulky six-foot-something athlete. And let’s not forget the fact that I’m now partaking in PDA with the aforementioned hulky athlete.

“Abs, are you dating him?” Tyler asks me incredulously, jaw coming unhinged and gaping unattractively. “He looks like he could open a tin can with his teeth!”

Caleb’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken at Tyler’s insult. “I’m walking her home if she’s heading in that direction,” he interjects without ceremony or excuse, his voice low and gravelly. He shifts his mouth near my temple and continues for my ears only. “Want to join me?”

“Um. I… yes. Yeah. I’d like that.”

He raises a dark eyebrow above the black frame of his glasses, amused. I can almost hear him thinking, Wow. That was almost as awkward as you trying to invite me into your house this weekend.