I guess this class really is going to be an uphill battle, especially since I didn’t get the chance to go to the campus bookstore yet to get the ridiculously long list of books I need for my classes.
Mentally adding that to my to-do list for after class, I try to focus as the professor starts his lecture on psychology’s roots and the philosophers that helped create psychology as we know it today, but my mind keeps drifting to the blond beside me who keeps nudging my foot with his.
Fucking Sawyer.
I pull my legs and arms in as tight as I can so he can’t reach me, but that just seems to amuse him even more.
“We can swap seats next class,” Connor whispers to me, and I give him a small but relieved smile.
I mouth the words ‘thank you’ and try to refocus on Professor Crawford and his lecture. This isn’t exactly how I wanted to start my time at Saints U. Especially since I have him for two classes this semester, and him hating me isn’t going to help me at all.
My biggest problem is that Sawyer's presence is very distracting, even with him doing nothing but watching me—which somehow doesn’t even come off as creepy, but it’s more cocky than anything. Freaking asshole.
By the time the professor gives us our first assignment and dismisses us, I’m a frazzled mess. He glared at me the very few times he did look my way, but ignored me the rest of the time.
Apparently, this man isn’t a fan of mine, which makes me wonder what the fuck Sawyer told him. Hopefully I can overcome whatever it is, because I can’t afford to fail his class.
“Don’t sweat it, Not-Red. He’s a pussycat. He’s just feeling you out,” Sawyer whispers to me, making me jump because I hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten.
“Just no.” I sigh, rushing to my feet and nearly falling to my ass in my haste. Sawyer catches me before I hit the ground, his hands gripping my waist, and it would be so easy to be nice to him for helping me, especially because I believe that manners don’t cost a damn thing. But then I remember he didn’t help me before with Travis and that the professor likely hates mebecauseof him, so I stuff down my gratitude.
Am I being a bit of a brat? Most definitely, but he doesn’t get to play hot and cold and expect me to fall at his feet.
So, instead of thanking him, I pull myself out of his grasp and step around Connor. It’s only when I glance back once I’m down a few steps that I notice them standing there, facing off with each other like there's some sort of pissing contest going on.
What sort of fucking world have I stepped into here in Serenity Falls? Sweet baby Jesus, this is insane. Especially since, bless his heart, Connor doesn’t seem much of a match for Sawyer, even if he wasn’t a slim, nerd type, meaning he’s dramatically the underdog compared to Sawyer. Socially, Connor seems more my level, which means in this world, he’ll never be the victor.
Instead of giving them any more attention, I hightail it from the room as fast as my feet will carry me without falling over again. The last thing I need in my life is more drama. I had low-key hoped that my mom marrying a guy rich enough to keep her entertained might mean less drama in my world.
But no. Apparently I’m a magnet for it.
Go. Freaking. Me.
* * *
It doesn’t take me long to find the campus bookstore, though it does take me considerably longer to pull myself out of the fiction section than it should. Young Adult Fantasy Romance is my one true escape beyond sketching and music.
Now the Young Adult section… that one I actually have to resist using the credit card that feels like a lead weight in my pocket. Buying stuff for school? That feels weird.
I never said it made any sense.
Taylor Acorns’Psychoplays through my headphones as I go through my book list from the advisor, trying to get as many used books as I can, but the selection is sparse because I’m so late to get them. Which means I end up buying a ton of them brand spanking new, and it costs a small fortune.
I’m pretty sure my heart stops when the cashier rings up the total cost.
“I could put a deposit on a house with the cost of these,” I grumble, and the peppy blonde girl behind the counter giggles at me.
“Don’t be silly, a house would set you back you millions,” she says, giggling again, and it takes all of my strength not to roll my eyes at her and run the fuck away.
“Of course,” I respond with a tight smile as she bags up the books. Maybe I can buy my fiction hit elsewhere. If only the coffee and cake didn’t smell so good here, dammit.
This place is like my own personal kryptonite.
I’m definitely going to be back here, even with—I squint at her name tag—Amanda and her peppy disposition.
I glance back at the coffee counter, trying not to drool over the thought of an iced peppermint mocha with extra whip.
Screw it.