Campus God (Campus)
Except me.
To me, he’s a total dickhead.
As soon as I make eye contact, his gaze drops, slowly crawling down the length of my body. Even though he’s not physically touching me, that’s exactly what his perusal feels like. It takes every ounce of self-control to remain motionless, so he doesn’t see how much his scrutiny bothers me. Instead, I straighten my shoulders and grit my teeth before jutting out my chin in defiance. If he thinks he can burrow under my skin that easily, he’s seriously mistaken.
By the time his onyx-colored depths return to mine, there’s a slight curl to his upper lip and a dark look filling his eyes.
“Nice tits, McAdams. New push-up bra? They look bigger than usual. I like it.”
“Fuck off, Rhodes.” It takes effort to resist the urge to hunch over so that my breasts aren’t as noticeable. Although, let’s face it, when you wear a D cup, that’s difficult to do. I’ve always been sensitive about the size of my boobs, and somehow, Crosby has figured it out.
He smirks as if pleased by my reaction. I have no idea what I did to provoke his ire, but it’s been directed at me since Andrew first introduced us. If it had been possible to avoid the surly boy with the messy dark hair and lip ring, I would have done so after just one meeting. Unfortunately, that was impossible given that Andrew and Crosby are teammates, friends, and roommates. They share an apartment together off campus.
In the beginning, I went out of my way to be nice, figuring that with enough time and kindness, his attitude would thaw and he’d soften his stance. That never happened. If anything, his temperament grew nastier. Once it dawned on me that we were never going to sit around a campfire and sing Kumbaya, I avoided and ignored him.
Even though Andrew and I broke up six months ago, I still run into Crosby on campus and at parties. Sure, I could avoid the football players all together, but I refuse to give either of them that much power over my life. That being said, am I going to miss any of them, with the exception of Easton, when I graduate from Western in the spring?
Nope. Not even a little.
That’s not to say they’re all bad dudes. A couple of Sasha’s soccer teammates are dating football players and they seem like nice guys. But after Andrew’s total mindfuck, I have zero interest in getting wrapped up with another self-absorbed jock. There are too many girls at Western throwing themselves at their feet. Most of the ones who hooked up with Andrew knew he had a girlfriend and didn’t give a crap.
So much for girl code.
After I dumped his ass, a good number of them came out of the woodwork to share all the gory details. Then they were all about pussy power and solidarity. Not so much when they were hoing around with my man behind my back.
“What?” He grins. “It was a compliment. You should take it that way.”
“Please,” I snort, “nothing that comes out of your mouth could be misconstrued as complimentary.”
His smile widens, and the tiny silver hoop pierced through the corner of his lip glints in the sun. Without realizing it, my gaze drops to the metal. His tongue darts out to play with it, and a punch of arousal explodes in my core.
His voice dips as he looms closer. “Is that what you want, McAdams? My sweet words?” He practically purrs the question.
My heart kicks into overdrive as my attention snaps to his eyes. An unwanted sizzle of electricity snakes down my spine. One would think from our contentious past, the only thing he would do is piss me off.
Turns out that’s not the case.
For whatever reason, Crosby is the only guy on this campus capable of making my hormones sit up and take notice. If there were away to stomp out the unwelcome attraction rushing through me like liquid fire, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
But there’s not. Trust me, I’ve tried. Which is precisely why I go to such great lengths to avoid him. I would say like a clap diagnosis, but…
That hits a little too close to home.
I clear my throat. “Hardly.”
He eats up more distance between us until it becomes necessary to tip my chin upward to hold his flinty gaze. It takes every ounce of self-control to stand my ground instead of scrambling backward in retreat.
The buzz of attraction zipping through my veins is not only disconcerting but refuses to be extinguished. His bright white teeth flash in the sunlight, and my attention is reluctantly snagged by the small metal hoop. I’ve never been attracted to guys with piercings. Or who are dark and moody.
Crosby is—and has always been—the exception to the rule.