Great. So this is more about my father than me? Exactly what every girl wants to hear.
I force a brittle smile. “Awesome. He’s excited, too.”
That might be something of an overstatement.
Justin nods toward the end of the corridor. “I better get moving. Professor Andrews is a real stickler for punctuality.”
“Yup. See you later.”
This time, when he leans in, our lips align perfectly. The kiss is nothing more than a fleeting caress. There and gone before I can sink into it.
And I’m left feeling...absolutely nothing.
I bury the disappointment where I can’t inspect it too closely before giving him a wave as he takes off. For a moment, I stand rooted in the hallway and watch as he disappears through the crowd. There’s nothing to distinguish Justin from the thousands of guys who look exactly like him on campus. He’s of average height and build with dark hair and espresso-colored eyes. He’s nice enough. Although, if I’m completely honest, he’s a little self-absorbed. He talks about baseball all the time. If Ethan hadn’t introduced us, he’s not someone I would have looked twice at. We don’t have a ton in common.
As much as I hate to admit it, this relationship has probably reached its expiration date.
Now it’s a matter of pulling the plug.
Ugh. I hate breakups. Although, it’s doubtful this will end up destroying him. I’ll have to make it through tonight and figure out the rest.
With a sigh of resignation, I head to the classroom and find a seat tucked away in the far corner of the small lecture hall. A lanky guy I recognize from a few of my other classes settles beside me. He flashes a dimpled smile as we empty our backpacks.
The tiny hair at the nape of my neck rises seconds before Rowan enters the room. It’s like my body knows when he’s within a thirty-foot radius. I glance at him from beneath the thick fringe of my lashes before shifting away. Air becomes wedged in my lungs as I wait for him to take a seat. And it won’t be next to me because I’m—
“Hey man, would you mind moving?”
Surrounded on both sides.
Damnit. I’m hoping the cutie next to me will tell Rowan to go take a flying leap.
What? It could happen. Not everyone at this university is enamored of the football-playing god. Although I realize the odds aren’t stacked in my favor. Rowan is the most recognized athlete on campus. People fall all over themselves to accommodate him.
It’s a little sickening.
Okay, maybe more than a little.
“Sure, no problem, Michaels.” The guy next to me hastily packs up his books before vacating the desk. Unable to ignore him any longer, I glare as Rowan slides onto the seat next to me.
“Did you really think you could evade me that easily?” Laughter brims in his deep voice. A voice, I might add, that does funny things to my insides.
“One can always hope, right?”
“Oh, answering a question with a question.” He leans closer, eating up some of the much-needed distance between us. “I like it.”
I roll my eyes as his lips stretch into a satisfied grin. Irritation bubbles up inside me when sexual tension blooms at the bottom of my belly. Or maybe that tension has settled a little lower.
It’s definitely lower.
I’m tempted to swear like a sailor. How is it possible that I feel nothing for the guy I’m actually dating, and yet my pulse skitters out of control for someone I don’t even like? It’s so freaking ironic. It’s been this way since we met, and nothing I do stomps it out. I can try to fool myself into believing it’s not there, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
It’s a relief when Professor Peters takes his place at the podium and clears his throat. Once he’s captured everyone’s attention, he delves headfirst into the probability of dependent and independent events.
Grateful for the excuse to ignore Rowan for the next fifty minutes, I open my textbook and concentrate on the lesson. Just as the blond boy fades into the background, his bare knee bumps into mine. Electricity ricochets through my entire being. I glance at him to see if he’s noticed the strange energy we always seem to generate and find his ocean-colored gaze fastened to mine.
My guess is that he does.
Damnation.
2
Demi
“All right, folks, I think I’ve imparted enough information on you for one morning. I can see that your brains are on the verge of exploding. Please remember that today’s assignment needs to be turned in online by midnight. Late work will be downgraded fifty percent.”
A chorus of grumbles and groans follow that announcement.
Professor Peters lips twitch in amusement. It’s no secret that he doesn’t give a damn whether students pass or fail this course. Statistics is a requirement for all health science degrees. If you don’t understand the material and refuse to seek out help, you’re screwed and doomed to repeat it. Over and over and over again. And Professor P is the only instructor who teaches this specific course.