Campus Heartthrob (The Campus Series)

A change of topic is exactly what’s needed.

Even if it’s this one.

“We are not hooking up,” I growl. “We’re working on our project.” With any luck, we can wrap it up so we no longer have to meet on a regular basis. I’ve had just about as much of Brayden Kendricks as I can withstand for one semester. More like the rest of my life.

The hard edge filling his eyes vanishes as he flashes me a grin. “Semantics, baby.”

Ugh.

I have no idea why Brayden enjoys needling me, and I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. Avoidance seems to be the best tactic to employ with him. Not that it’s done me much good.

“After practice,” I tell him. “Around seven. Does that work?”

Honestly, it would be better if—

“I’ll be there. Ready and willing.”

I huff out a breath.

Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

Chapter Three

Brayden

Unable to help myself, I swipe my phone off the table for the twentieth time and look at it before glancing around the third floor of the library. Sydney is nowhere to be found. She’s ten minutes late and counting.

The realization that I’m being stood up flickers through my brain. Even though we have work to plow through, I wouldn’t put it past her to be a no-show. My ability to piss off the green-eyed soccer player is almost impressive. I have no idea what I did to Sydney to earn the number-one position on her shitlist. It’s like she took an instant dislike to me and nothing I’ve done has been able to turn that frown upside down.

And I must be a glutton for punishment, because I’m unwilling to let it go.

Another three minutes slowly tick by and there’s still no sign of her.

It’s official.

I’ve been ditched.

Hell, she’s probably making out with her boyfriend somewhere. That thought is enough to piss me off more than I’d like to admit.

Fucking Ethan.

Those two are all wrong for each other. One day they’re together and the next, all hell is breaking loose. I’ve stopped trying to keep tabs on their relationship status. It changes as often as the weather. Just when I think it’s safe to swoop in for the kill, they’re back on again and sucking face right in front of me.

No. She needs a different kind of guy. Someone more like...

I shake that thought loose. Just as I’m about to pack up my computer and get the hell out of here, Sydney drops onto the chair across from me. Her face is slightly flushed, and her hair is damp from her shower.

“Sorry,” she says by way of greeting, “practice ran over by about twenty minutes.”

When her phone chimes with a message, she pulls it from her pocket before glancing at the screen and then setting it in front of her. As soon as it hits the table, I pounce.

“Hey! What are you doing? Give that back!” Her voice escalates with each word that falls from her lips as she makes a swipe for the slim device. But I’m too stealthy and lean back in my chair. Unless she’s going to dive across the table, she’s not getting her hands on it until I’m done. With quick movements, I tap the home screen and access her phone app before punching in my number. When mine buzzes with an incoming call, I hit end and hand back the cell. She scowls and rips the electronic device from my fingers. If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the spot.

Much to Sydney’s chagrin, that doesn’t occur.

“Now I have your digits,” I say with a smirk.

“Ever think that I didn’t want you to have them?” she shoots back, upper lip curling with irritation.

Yup. All the time.

When I continue to smile, her lips tighten into a grim line. My guess is that she’s on the verge of exploding. Less than thirty seconds in my presence and she’s ready to lose it. This might be an all-time record for me.

“We should get to work,” she finally grumbles. “I’ve got other assignments to finish up tonight.”

“The grind never ends,” I say lightly, because it’s the truth. It’s pressure I feel on a daily basis. My bet is that Sydney does as well. Being student athletes at Western University means that we need to be on top of our time management game. Most professors don’t give a shit if you play a sport. For them, academics are the be all end all.

“Truth.” Her shoulders loosen, falling from the general vicinity of her ears.

In silence, she pulls her computer from her backpack. Only now that I’m taking a closer look at Sydney’s face do I notice the dark purple smudges decorating the fragile skin beneath her eyes. A rush of sympathy arrows through me.

I shift in my chair, wondering if there’s anything I can do to lighten her load. Even though I’m the last person on the face of this Earth she would willingly accept help from, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to offer. She might vehemently disagree, but I’m not a complete dick. “If you’ve got other stuff to do, we can work on this another time. There are two more weeks before it needs to be turned in, and the bulk of the project is already finished.”