My breath stills as I wait to hear his next words. But then, like it wants to be acknowledged as its own being, my stomach growls. Loudly. Oh, God.
I close my eyes.
I can feel his gaze hard on me. I don’t have to look to know the surprised, probably about-to-crack-up look he’s wearing right now. And I’m proven right when he says, “Damn, carrot cake. You should feed that beast.”
Warmth prickles my cheeks, and my eyes fly open. Truth is, I’d been so ill over my choice to sign up for the boosters—one of the most popular clubs on campus; whose members openly mocked me last week—that I skipped breakfast. And lunch. Just to give myself the extra boost of confidence I sorely needed.
This moment, right here, proves how out of touch I am with that side of myself. Confidence and me?—two polar opposites on other ends of the planet.
“Thanks. A lot,” I say, pushing out of his hold. Then I turn and all but run down the hallway.
“Wait.” He quickly catches up to me, his long legs swallowing the short distance. I keep my gaze on the floor, watching his feet take one step for my every two. “I didn’t mean it…”
I stop, and he turns to face me. “You have no filter. Like, zero.” I make an “o” with my hand.
Thick brows arch over clear blue eyes. “You’re so sensitive. I was joking.” He makes a face that almost looks as if he’s pained. Then adds, “Something, which, you clearly don’t care for.”
Oh, so now I’m uptight? Right, well, I guess I am. I’ve been through near hell these past months—enough hell to probably make anyone a bit high-strung, but I’m not explaining this to him. “Forget it. Just, please, leave me alone. Okay?”
Sinking his hands into his pockets, he lifts his shoulders, looking almost childish—too young for the body containing him. Like he’s been reprimanded. For a second, a pang knocks my chest.
“I was actually hoping for just the opposite,” he says.
“What?”
He drops his chin, his features becoming serious. “I don’t want to leave you alone. I’d like to get to know you.”
“Why?” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. Crap. I glance away, at the students milling behind him, at the taped posters clinging to the gray walls. At anything to distract me from his answer.
He takes a moment longer than needed for such a simple question, and each second that ticks by is torture. Maybe he was just setting me up—waiting for me to fall into that trap. Like getting to know me is some form of sick foreplay to break down my defenses and humiliate me further. Though I’m not sure what would top condom bombing my car.
That thought makes my stomach sink. Then he’s stepping closer to me, crowding my space, sucking up all the air from between us. I inhale the warm scent of him. Fresh aftershave or cologne, woodsy. Fall leaves. Leather from his backpack strap. He’s too close.
“Because,” he says, a low rumble in his throat, ridiculously long lashes sweeping his angular cheeks, “when a girl…I mean, a beautiful girl…throws beer in your face, you kind of have to get to know her. Figure out what makes her tick. And try to make up for being a complete douchebag to her.”
I snort. The dumb noise vacates my nose without my permission. I swear, I have no control over my bodily functions around this guy. It’s embarrassing.
Recovering by quick
ly following up with a cough, I clear my throat. Look up. Hell, I shouldn’t have done that. His lips are tipped up in an inviting, full smile. Eyes squinted in that cute way of his that makes him seem innocent—but with just a hint of bad beneath.
“I could save you the trouble of an inquisition,” I say, trying to hold his intense stare.
His eyebrows rise. “Interesting. You’re just offering it up that easily?”
My eyes go wide, and he immediately winces. “That’s not—”
“I am such an idiot.” I shake my head, finally breaking his gaze. Getting my bearings once again. “I was not offering—”
“I know!” He’s grasping my shoulders now, and I squirm against his hold. “That didn’t come out the way I wanted.”
“No,” I say, using my arms in a windmill motion to break free. “You meant it just how it sounded. But I’m not one of your groupies. There’s no touchdown going to happen here. And honestly—” I laugh “—I think words between us period isn’t smart. Let’s just not from now on, okay?”
I don’t give him the chance to remark. I’m feet away from him, and then yards. Trying to collect myself from his almost touchdown.
8
Ryder