Campus God (Campus)

Little does Brooke realize that she’s just sealed her fate with that one innocuous gesture.

Her eyes flare as she quickly tugs her fingers free and scrambles away. Now that she’s agreed to a truce, there’s only so long I’ll allow her to hold me at a distance. The electricity that snaps and sizzles between us makes me want her even more. I’ve spent years denying myself the one girl I’ve always wanted, and I refuse to do it any longer.

“I need to go,” she mumbles before spinning away and taking off through the sea of students.

Just as she’s about to disappear through the throng, she sends a glance over the curve of her shoulder. Her confused gaze fastens onto mine as a slight smile tips the corners of my lips and I raise a tentative hand. She doesn’t return the gesture. Instead, a frown settles on her features before she turns away and vanishes from sight.

Once she’s gone, I release the air trapped in my lungs as my muscles loosen. Sure, I’ll admit it was a little touch and go there, but, in the end, the conversation went better than expected. Whether she realizes it or not, her agreement to wipe the slate clean is just the beginning.

When my phone chimes with an incoming message, I dig through my pocket before peering at the screen.

It’s unfair that you know who I am. I want a pic of you.

I snort out a mirthless laugh.

Yeah…that’s not going to happen.

At least not yet.

One thing’s for certain, I have my work cut out for me. Most girls on campus think I’m a charming bastard. I guess it’s time to prove just how charming I can be.

11

BROOKE

I hasten my pace as another shiver of unease slides through me. All right…so maybe it’s not one hundred percent apprehension. It might be something more along the lines of—

Nope.

I refuse to go there.

It takes effort to shake away the feelings Crosby rouses so effortlessly within me. How is he able to twist me up into a series of complicated little knots?

Even if I’m physically attracted to the guy, I can’t stand him.

So yeah…that conversation makes no sense. All he’s managed to do is confuse me.

Of all the things I expected him to say, an apology for past transgressions wasn’t one of them. Honestly, I would have expected hell to freeze over before that occurred.

Even though I agreed to wipe the slate clean, does that mean I’m going to forget everything he said and did to me?

Hell no.

The guy has a shit ton to prove before I could ever consider trusting him.

My brows pinch together as I carefully turn the conversation over in my head. The question I’d posed had been legitimate. We’ll both graduate in the spring and move on with our lives. Why bother now of all times?

There’s no point in being friends or getting to know one another on a deeper level. The only upside I can see is that I’ll no longer have to worry about him embarrassing or insulting me. Tension won't fill every muscle, making me jittery and on edge at the thought of running into him.

Instead of pretending to be friends, I’d rather we ignore each other. Then we could coexist peacefully. There’s no reason for us to interact. Maybe the irrepressible energy that snaps and sizzles when we’re in the same vicinity would finally dissipate.

Just as I’m about to turn onto the path that leads to McKinney Hall where my next class is located, Sasha catches up to me.

She huffs out a breath, looking winded as her gaze does a quick scan of my person. “What was that all about?”

I shake my head and scrunch my face. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he’s done the impossible and grown a conscience. If so, that would prove that miracles really do come true.”

When her expression fills with confusion, I reluctantly admit, “He actually apologized for his shitty behavior and claimed we should,” I make air quotes with my fingers, “wipe the slate clean and start fresh.”

Sasha’s eyes widen. “Get out of here.”

“Nope.” I pop the ‘P’ for added emphasis.

“Holy crap. Now that’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming.”

“Maybe.” I jerk my shoulders and continue walking. “Then again, maybe not.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before she asks, “You don’t believe him?”

That’s the million-dollar question.

“I don’t know. He has a lot to prove before I trust anything that comes out of his mouth.” The conversation continues to play on a loop in my brain as I lower my voice. “It wouldn’t surprise me if this were all some kind of twisted game to lull me into a false sense of security before doing something awful.”

Her eyes widen before she whispers, “No way. Do you really think Crosby is that diabolical?”

Honestly?

I have no idea. When it comes down to it, I don’t know him very well. How could I? All he’s done is shut down every attempt I made to get to know him, all the while treating me like shit.