Shattered by You (Tear Asunder 3)

His jeans had holes in the knees and despite the leather belt, which was more for show than anything, they hung low on his hips. But if he was trying to hide who he was, he didn’t try very hard as he wore a black t-shirt with the words Tear Asunder ROCKs. Although, in his defense, I’d seen a few of these shirts around campus.

“Damn, you’re the guitarist from Tear Asunder—Crisis.” And anonymity botched. The guy, who a moment ago was pissed off at us for holding up the line, now grinned.

Crisis nodded. “Yeah, man. But I’m trying to keep it quiet. You know . . . have lunch with my girl.”

My girl?

Crisis shifted the tray into one hand and slapped the guy on the shoulder with the other. “She hasn’t seen me in months and is dying to get her lips on me.”

I snorted and moved off toward the cash register. Unfortunately, they followed. I knew he was attempting to get the lightness back after what just happened with me by teasing, but I was uneasy with the fact he’d been recognized.

The guy laughed. “Sure. That’s cool. Better lower the hat though. If the chicks find out you’re on campus, it’ll be mayhem.”

Crisis tagged my arm before I had the chance to escape without my food and disappear into the crowded cafeteria. “Whoa, babe.” He glanced back at the guy. “Later, bud.”

He guided me with his body to the cash register where he passed the lady a twenty dollar bill and didn’t bother waiting for change as he strode through the hordes of students sitting at the rectangle tables until he found one unoccupied. He slid the tray onto the surface then dipped his hat lower over his face.

I stood at the end of the table, uncertain whether I should avoid a catastrophe that was imminent as soon as that guy told his friends Crisis from Tear Asunder was in the cafeteria. I glanced over my shoulder for the door . . . I wasn’t that hungry and had class in fifteen minutes.

“Don’t even think of it. Do you really want me running after you, throwing you over my shoulder and bringing you back here to sit and eat?” And again with the delusion that he could really get me over his shoulder. “You’ve lost weight and I guarantee your brother is going to notice.” I glared. He shrugged. “Come on. I need a good laugh and seeing you eat that sloppy joe will end my dry spell.”

Crisis had incredible eyes, brilliant blue that sparked with tiny star-like speckles of playfulness. Nonthreatening . . . safe.

I sat on the bench and Crisis grinned then sat across from me. He snagged my water bottle and opened it for me. “You didn’t tell me you wanted to move out of the farmhouse.”

Ream must have told him I planned to move closer to school. “Was it a pre-requisite?” I’d been looking for a job, too, so I could afford a place of my own.

He snorted. “Fuck yeah. I don’t jump off cliffs with just any chick.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “Come on, Haven. We talk every day. I’d think it would be something you’d tell me.”

“We text every day,” I corrected.

“Fine. We text. But I don’t normally text a chick more than twice. You’re an exception.”

“Is that a rule?”

“Fuck yeah. You know that. We talked about it.”

I did.

He’d also told me that it was perfect when they toured because they were never in a city long enough to have to see the chick more than twice. Twice was his limit, he said ‘his cock had always liked variety pussy.’

“You look cute with your book bag and all . . . school-like,” Crisis drawled and it drew my attention because Crisis had this husky tone to his voice that couldn’t be ignored and I was betting he knew it.

“School-like?”

“Yeah. You know, studious and shit.”

He watched me as I picked up my apple, took a bite next to where he had and put it down. I wasn’t exactly uncomfortable under his watchful gaze. I was accustomed to being on display, but it was something else. Something undecipherable that made me . . . aware of him.

“Your brother tell you he and Kat are buying the farm from Emily?” My brother had told me weeks ago. He also told me that Kite and Crisis had bought a place together so they wouldn’t be back at the farm.

Originally, Logan and Kite owned the farm under a numbered company, something about keeping anonymity at the time. Then Logan put it in Emily’s name and later decided to buy another farm to build a custom house and stables.

“So, where are you looking?” he asked.

“Not looking yet. But it will be closer to school.”

I took a sip of my water then picked up my sloppy joe, the meat dripped out onto the plate. Of all days, the special had to be the sloppy joe. I always went for the specials on the days I was running late and didn’t bring a lunch. They were cheaper and I hated using my brother’s money. He’d set up an account for me, insisting that the money was partially mine anyway. That it was left to us from Urma, the old lady who had let us live in her shed when my brother and I were sixteen and living on the streets.

I knew the cottage had been hers, but the money was no doubt Ream’s.

“You good with that?”

I had no idea what he said, so I said nothing. I leaned over my plate and took a bite of my sandwich. The juices slipped from the corners of my mouth and more meat fell out of the bun and dropped onto the plate than into my mouth. I put it down and Crisis held out the napkin, a cute grin on his face.

“Never thought I’d see the day when you had juices all over your face.”

I took the cheap white paper from him and wiped my mouth. “Funny.”