I stumbled back a step, my eyes quickly darting up.Who the fuck put a wall by a fountain?It made no sense, but it all came together when my gaze landed on not a wall but a body. A hard, muscular form wearing a loose T-shirt that looked comfortable as fuck. Almost as toned as my boyfriend but not quite. It was hard to compete with a wide receiver who spent hours at the gym and on the field. My boyfriend was lean and fit in all the right places.
Still, it hadn’t felt good and startled me, which in turn pissed me off. My brows bunched together as I searched for the face attached to the body standing in my way.
The sun glared at his back, mostly blocked by his form, but as my eyes moved, I had to angle my head to avoid the bright beam. A bit of dark scruff adorned his jawline and chin, making me think he’d been in a rush as well this morning and hadn’t had time to shave. His lips were full and curved; chiseled cheekbones carved the side of his face. Warm amber eyes sparkled as I stared into them, a wisp of dark hair falling over the side of his face. His features made me think he might have a bit of Asian descent in his family tree. Most girls would find him attractive, and he was, but he wasn’t my type. Too pretty. Too smug. And something naughty.
No fucking way.
It couldn’t possibly be him.
He took the few moments I glanced him over to do the same to me. The smirk hooking on his lips spiked a flare of irritation, and I swore that, despite my taking a step back, he was closer than he should have been, invading my personal space. I could smell the traces of cologne that clung to his black T-shirt.
“Hey. I know you. Where have I seen you before?” he pondered in a rugged voice, rubbing a hand over his stubbly chin.
I backed up a step and then another, my calves bumping into something hard and damp. Then I was falling, arms flailing out in front of me.
He reached for me, amusing eyes going wide with surprise. My fingertips just touched his as a shriek escaped, but I slipped past before he could latch his hand to mine.
Splash.
My ass landed on something hard, legs up in the air as my hands caught me from going flat on my back. Water soaked my clothes, a splatter of droplets spraying over my face.
I didn’t move. Not immediately. Just sat in the fucking fountain, unable to believe what happened.
I squeezed my eyes closed and groaned.
Fuck. My. Life.
Like why? I knew I should get out of the fountain, that the longer I sat here, the more of a spectacle I made, but I wanted nothing more than to sink into the water, crawl into a cave, anything but open my eyes and seehimstaring atme.
I’d only seen him once—the night I chose to erase from my memory—but seeing him brought it all back. I worked hard to forget and forgive, for both Micah’s and my sake. Micah had always been important to me—always would.
But this guy… he’d been a fleeting moment’s mistake. A blip that meant nothing other than the intent to hurt someone else. I had used him, and that wasn’t something I was proud of. Even if he knew what I had been about that night, I still couldn’t wipe away that he was also the start of my vice. I couldn’t really blame him for the addiction that was still a part of my life, despite that I kept telling myself I’d quit. It had given me something to do other than dwell, something to ease the turmoil that had spun within me.
I never did get his name, then or now.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone gentle, perhaps even with traces of humor. I couldn’t fault him for finding the situation amusing. In a few hours, I would definitely be laughing about it with Kenna, Josie, and Ainsley. I hoped.
Forcing my eyes to open, I shoved down the embarrassment, trying to gain some semblance of dignity. Kind of difficult when I looked like a drowned cat. I shoved strands of my wet honey-colored hair off my face.
He extended a hand, concern warming those amber eyes.
Whispers and a few giggles fluttered from the dozen or so people passing by. Most of them kept casting glances at the guy offering to help me. He had a look that people took notice of. He was that kind of guy.
And me, apparently, I was the type of girl who made a fool of herself. What a way to make a spectacular first impression. I had a feeling this would haunt me the entire four years of college. I would be known as fountain girl or some other more genius nickname since I couldn’t seem to come up with anything catchy.
Why me?
I took his hand, and he pulled me to my feet, helping me step out of the fountain. In the process, my foot got twisted at my poor attempt to gather my bearings. I fell into him, my palms flattening on his chest. He chuckled, despite his shirt getting wet.
My cheeks burned.
Wow. You would have thought I didn’t know how to walk. “I swear I’m not drunk or this clumsy,” I assured, backing up, my eyes on the front of his shirt.
“If you say so,” he said as if he didn’t believe me.
I glanced up then, detecting a trace of humor that had my hackles rising. If there was one thing I detested in this world more than liars, it was being laughed at. “This is your fault, by the way,” I replied, my voice sharpening a bit. I shook out my arms. “Fuck, my phone,” I muttered, realizing it was no longer in my hand.
The guy and I both glanced at the fountain.