Kissing Killian (Face-Off Legacy/Campus Kings 5)

“He’s friends with Jamie,” Shannon offers. “Jamie said they’ve known each other for years. They’re on the hockey team together.” She scratches her jaw, thinking it over. “I think he’s from the Italian Market section of South Philly. He has a younger brother who looks just like him. I’ve seen him at some of his hockey games. His dad died when he was younger, so he pretty much takes care of his mom and brother. With his schedule, I’m not sure how he does it, though.”

I have a pretty good idea.

“Is that it?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, he’s pretty low-key. I know he likes video games and computers. That’s how he became friends with Jamie.”

“Is he dating anyone?”

She smiles. “You like him?”

“No, it’s not like that. I’ve never seen him on campus with girls.”

“He’s not around much on the weekends. Sometimes he comes to parties at Delta Sig, but that doesn’t happen often.”

“Yeah, I hardly ever see him there.” Except for the few times when he ignored me. “I was surprised he was at The Sixth Floor on Saturday.”

“The entire hockey team was there. Jamie came to see me dance. You know that girl, Bex, who fell off the stage?” I nod and she continues, “She’s hooking up with Preston Parker.”

“Oh, I was wondering where she came from.”

“You ready to head over to the cafeteria? The pledges are serving us tonight.”

“I remember when we had to do that in our freshman year. It sucked so hard.”

She pushes her hands to the mattress and chuckles. “Right? Pledging was the worst, but at least it was worth it.”

Shannon helps me up from the bed, and after we join our sisters downstairs, we head over to the Student Activity Center, known as the SAC to everyone on campus. Located on the top floor of the SAC, the intoxicating aroma of fried food flows out from the cafeteria. Most of the girls in my sorority are dressed to the nines, their hair and makeup perfect.

That was something my mother taught me from birth. She’s a New York socialite, the daughter of a congressman and the wife of successful investment banker. My mother never leaves the house without a full face of makeup and her hair perfectly coiffed. When I was a kid, she would make me feel like shit if I didn’t look perfect, and now that I’m free of her, I don’t have to impress anyone.

Instead of waiting for the pledges, I walk inside the crowded cafeteria, grab a tray from the stack, and slide it down the metal counter behind Shannon. They serve everything from burgers and fries to Chinese food. My gaze wanders over to the massive salad bar at the center of the buffet lines—because my mother has conditioned me to watch what I eat—but I’m craving junk food.

I search the expanse of the hall for an open table, only to catch someone’s attention. My breath catches in my throat—broad shoulders, tanned skin covered in tats, wavy black hair that sweeps over his forehead, and those striking green eyes stare back at me. Killian Kade looks different in the light, his perfect features and muscular body even more impressive. Everything about him oozes sex and trouble.

I know he’s a bad guy.

What kind of person steals cars?

He intrigues me.

Even though I should hate him, I want to be the first to know the real Killian Kade. Excitement shoots through me, the electricity between us prickling my skin. But I come to my senses. He stole my car. Killian owes me. And if there’s one thing I learned from my banker father, it’s that at some point, everyone has to pay.

Something about him provokes a sudden rage in me, followed by an overwhelming curiosity. Impervious to the good-looking jocks at Strickland University, I hate myself for feeling anything toward Killian even if that emotion is anger laced with a bit of sexual tension.

As he violates me with his eyes, I fix my hair, creating a wall between us. In desperate need of a distraction, I add food to my plate, not caring what I eat. My appetite is gone and replaced by the nerves churning in my stomach. He nears the cash register with a tray of food, his mossy green eyes fixed on mine.

Shannon taps my arm, stealing my attention. “You okay, Jade?”

“Umm…” I turn to face her and push my tray down the metal ledge with my fingers. “Yeah, I’m good. Just looking for a place for us to sit.”

“Our usual table is open,” she informs me. “The pledges are warming our seats. They were supposed to serve us but you ran off.”

“Right.” I shrug. “But I’d rather serve myself.”

I grew up with people waiting on me hand and foot. My parents—especially my mother—wouldn’t have it any other way. But how do you learn how to do anything if you don’t do it for yourself?