by Elle Kennedy
The fact that I’m searching the crowd for him makes me feel like a total loser. Truth be told, Allie’s not the only one wondering what my deal is. I’m wondering too, because seriously, why am I so obsessed with this guy? He doesn’t know I exist. And he’s a jock, to boot. I may as well be interested in Garratt Graham, for fuck’s sake. At least he offered to go out with me.
And what do you know—the second I think about Garrett, the devil himself enters the room.
I didn’t expect to see him tonight, and I immediately duck my head so he doesn’t spot me. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, I’ll chameleon into the wall behind me and he won’t know I’m here.
Luckily, Garrett is oblivious to my presence. He stops to talk to a couple of guys, then saunters toward the bar on the other side of the room, where he’s immediately swarmed by half a dozen girls who bat their eyelashes and thrust their boobs out to get his attention.
Beside me, Jimmy rolls his eyes. “Jeez. The big man on campus routine gets old, huh?”
I realize he’s looking at Garrett too, and the disgust on his face is unmistakable. “You’re not a fan of Graham’s?” I say dryly.
“You want the truth or the house line?”
“House line?”
“He’s a member of this frat,” Jimmy explains. “So technically that makes us brothers.” He air-quotes the word. “And a Sigma man loves all his brothers.”
I have to grin. “Okay, so that’s the house line. What’s the truth?”
The music swells, so he leans in closer. His lips are centimeters from my ear as he confides, “Can’t stand the guy. His ego’s bigger than this house.”
Look at that—I’ve met a kindred spirit. Another person who’s not a card-carrying member of Team Garrett.
Except the conspiratorial smile I give him is clearly taken the wrong way, because Jimmy’s eyes go heavy-lidded. “So…wanna dance?” he drawls.
I don’t. At all. But just as I open my mouth to say no, I glimpse a flash of black from the corner of my eye. Garrett’s black T-shirt. Crap. He’s spotted me and now he’s heading our way. Judging by his determined stride, he’s ready to do battle with me again.
“Sure,” I blurt out, eagerly grabbing Jimmy’s hand. “Let’s dance.”
A slow smile spreads across his mouth.
Uh-oh. Maybe I sounded a bit too eager there.
But it’s too late to change my mind, because he’s leading me toward the dance floor. And just my luck—the song changes the second we get there. The Ramones have been replaced by a Lady Gaga track. Not a fast one, either, but the slow version of “Poker Face.” Great.
Jimmy plants both his hands on my hips.
After a beat, I reluctantly hold onto his shoulders, and we begin to sway to the music. It’s awkward as hell, but at least I managed to evade Garrett, who is now regarding us with a frown, his hands hooked in the belt loops of his faded blue jeans.
When our gazes meet, I shoot him a half-smile and a what-can-you-do look, and he immediately narrows his eyes as if he knows I’m dancing with Jimmy just so I don’t have to talk to him. Then a pretty blonde touches his arm, and he breaks the eye contact.
Jimmy twists his head to see who I’m looking at. “You know Garrett?” He sounds more than a little wary.
I shrug. “He’s in one of my classes.”
“Are you friends?”
“Nope.”
“Good to hear.”
Garrett and the blonde duck out of the room just then, and I mentally pat myself on the back for my successful evasion tactics.
“Does he live here with you guys?” God, this song is taking forever, but I’m trying to make conversation because I feel like I have to finish out the dance after being so “enthusiastic” about it.
“No, thank fuck,” Jimmy answers. “He’s got a house off-campus. He’s always bragging about it, but I bet you his father pays his rent.”
I wrinkle my forehead. “Why do you say that? Is his family rich or something?”
Jimmy looks surprised. “You don’t know who his dad is?”
“No. Should I?”
“It’s Phil Graham.” When the groove in my forehead deepens, Jimmy elaborates. “Forward for the New York Rangers? Two-time Stanley Cup champ? Hockey legend?”
The one hockey team I know anything about is the Chicago Blackhawks, and that’s only because my dad is a rabid fan and makes me watch the games with him. Ergo, I have zero knowledge of a man who played for the Rangers, what, twenty years ago? But I’m not surprised to hear that Garrett hails from hockey royalty. He’s got that superior sense of entitlement down pat.
“I wonder why Garrett didn’t go to college in New York then,” I say politely.
“Graham Sr. finished out his career in Boston,” Jimmy explains. “I guess the family decided to stay in Massachusetts after he retired.”
The song blessedly comes to an end, and I hastily excuse myself by pretending I need to use the washroom. Jimmy makes me promise to dance with him again, then winks and wanders off toward the beer pong table.
Since I don’t want him to know I lied about the bathroom, I follow through on the pee charade by leaving the living room to loiter in the front parlor for a bit, which is where Allie finds me a few minutes later.
“Hey! Are you having a good time?” Her eyes are bright and her cheeks are flushed, but I know she hasn’t been drinking. She promised to stay sober, and Allie never breaks her promises.
“Yeah, I guess. I think I’m taking off soon, though.”
“Aw no, you can’t go yet! I just saw you dancing with Jim Paulson—you looked like you were having fun.”
Really? I guess I’m a much better actress than I thought.
“He’s cute,” she adds with a meaningful look.
“Naah, he’s not my type. Too preppy.”
“Well, I know someone who is your type.” Allie wiggles her eyebrows before lowering her voice to a teasing whisper. “And don’t turn around, but he just walked through the door.”
My heart takes off like a kite in a windstorm. Don’t turn around? Don’t people realize that saying that is guaranteed to make someone do the exact opposite?
I swivel my head toward the front door, then swivel it right back because oh my God. She’s right. Justin has finally shown up.
And since the glimpse I stole was far too fleeting, I rely on Allie to fill in the blanks. “Is he alone?” I murmur.
“He’s with a few of his teammates,” she murmurs back. “None of them brought dates, though.”
I do my best impression of a person who’s just talking to a friend and is in no way crushing on the guy standing ten feet away. And it works, because Justin and his buddies walk right past Allie and me, their loud laughter quickly swallowed up by a swell of music.
“You’re blushing,” she teases.
“I know.” I groan softly. “Fuck. This crush is so stupid, A. Why are you letting me embarrass myself like this?”
“Because I don’t think it’s stupid at all. And it’s not embarrassing—it’s healthy.” She grabs my arm and proceeds to drag me back to the living room. The stereo volume is lower now, but animated chatter continues to buzz through the room.
“Seriously, Han, you’re young and beautiful, and I want you to fall in love. I don’t care who it’s with as long as—why is Garrett Graham staring at you?”
I follow her startled gaze and smother another groan when Garrett’s gray eyes lock onto mine.
“Because he’s stalking me,” I grumble.
Her eyebrows soar. “For real?”
“Pretty much, yeah. He’s failing Ethics, and he knows I did well on the midterm so now he’s demanding I tutor him. The guy can’t take no for an answer.”
She snickers. “I think you might be the only girl who’s ever turned him down.”
“If only the rest of the female population was as smart as I am.”
I gaze past Allie’s shoulder and scan the room for Justin, and my p
ulse speeds up when I spot him by the pool table. He’s wearing black pants and a gray cable-knit sweater, and his hair is messy, falling onto his strong forehead. God, I love that just-rolled-out-of-bed look he has going on. He’s not all gelled up like his buddies, nor is he wearing his football jacket like the rest of them.
“Allie, get your cute ass over here!” Sean shouts from the Ping-Pong table. “I need my pong partner!”
A pretty blush blooms on her cheeks. “Wanna watch us kick some beer pong butt? Minus the beer,” she adds quickly. “Sean knows I’m not drinking tonight.”
I’m hit with another jolt of guilt. “That’s no fun,” I say lightly. “You’ve gotta have the beer to play the pong.”
She firmly shakes her head. “I promised you I wouldn’t drink.”
“And I’m not planning on sticking around for much longer,” I counter. “So there’s no reason for you not to get your buzz on.”
“But I want you to stay,” she protests.
“How about this? I’ll stay for another half hour, but only if you allow yourself to have some actual fun. I know we made a deal in freshman year, but I’m not holding you to it anymore, A.”
I mean every word, because I really do hate that she has to babysit me every time we go out. It’s not fair to her. And after two years at Briar, I know it’s time for me to lower my guard, at least a little bit.
“Come on, I want to see you show off those mad beer pong skills.” I link my arm through hers, and she laughs as I drag her over to Sean and his friends.
“Hannah!” Sean says in delight. “You playing?”
“Nope,” I reply. “Just cheering on my bestie.”
Allie joins Sean at one end of the table, and for the next ten minutes, I watch the most intense beer pong match on the planet unfold. But the entire time, I’m wholly aware of Justin, who’s chatting with his teammates across the room.
Eventually, I wander off because I finally do need to use the restroom. There’s one on the main floor near the kitchen, but the line is crazy long and it’s ages before I get a turn. I quickly do my business, then walk out of the bathroom—and slam into a hard male chest.
“You should really watch where you’re going,” a husky voice remarks.
My heart stops.
Justin’s dark eyes twinkle with humor as he places his hand on my arm to steady me. The moment he touches me, heat sears my flesh and unleashes a flurry of goose bumps.
“Sorry,” I stammer.
“No worries.” Smiling, he pats his chest down. “I’m still in one piece.”
I suddenly notice that there’s no one waiting to use the washroom anymore. It’s just Justin and me in the hallway, and God, he’s even better looking close up. He’s also much taller than I realized—I have to tilt my head to meet his eyes.
“You’re in Ethics with me, aren’t you?” he asks in that deep, sexy voice of his.
I nod.
“I’m Justin.”
He introduces himself as if there might actually be someone at Briar who doesn’t know his name. But I find his modesty is adorable.
“I’m Hannah.”
“How’d you do on the midterm?”
“I got an A,” I admit. “You?”
“B minus.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “Really? I guess we’re the lucky ones, then. Everyone else bombed it.”
“I think it makes us smart, not lucky.”
His grin makes me melt. Seriously. I’m a puddle of goo on the floor, unable to look away from those magnetic dark eyes. And he smells fantastic, like soap and lemony aftershave. Would it be inappropriate if I pressed my face in his neck and inhaled him?
Uh…yeah. It would.
“So…” I try to think of something clever or interesting to say, but I’m too nervous to be witty at the moment. “You play football, huh?”
He nods. “Wide receiver. Are you a fan?” A dimple appears in his chin. “Of the game, I mean.”
I’m not, but I suppose I could lie and pretend to like his sport. Except that’s a risky move, because then he might try to talk “shop” with me, and I don’t know enough about football to carry a whole conversation about it.
“Not really,” I confess with a sigh. “I’ve seen a game or two, but honestly, it’s too slow for my liking. Seems like you guys play for five seconds, and then someone blows a whistle and you stand around for hours before the next play starts.”
Justin laughs. He’s got a great laugh. Low and husky and I feel it right down to my toes. “Yeah, I’ve heard that complaint before. It’s different when you’re playing it, though. A lot more intense than you’d think. And if you’re invested in a team or certain players, you pick up the rules a lot faster.” He slants his head. “You should come to one of our games. I bet you’d have fun.”
Holy shit. He’s inviting me to one of his games?
“Uh, yeah, maybe I will—”
“Kohl!” a loud voice interrupts. “We’re up!”
We both turn as a blond behemoth pokes his head out of the living room doorway. It’s one of Justin’s teammates, and he’s wearing a look of extreme impatience.
“Coming,” Justin calls back, then gives me a rueful smile as he takes a step toward the bathroom. “Big Joe and I are about to kick some ass in pool, but I’ve gotta hit the can first. Talk later?”
“Sure.” I keep my tone casual, but there’s nothing casual about the way my heart is racing.
As Justin shuts the door behind him, I hurry back to the living room on shaky legs. I’m dying to tell Allie about what just happened, but I don’t get the chance. The second I walk into the room, six-foot-two and two hundred pounds of Garrett Graham block my path.
“Wellsy,” he says cheerfully. “You’re the last person I expected to see here tonight.”
As usual, his presence causes my guard to snap into place. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t think frat parties were your scene.”
“Well, you don’t know me, remember? Maybe I’m partying it up on Greek Row every night.”
“Liar. I would’ve seen you here before.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, a pose that causes his biceps to flex. I glimpse the bottom of a tattoo peeking out from his sleeve, but I can’t tell what it is, only that it’s black and looks intricate. Flames maybe?
“So, about this tutoring thing… I thought we should take a moment to set up a schedule.”
Aggravation shoots up my spine. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Never.”
“Then you need to start, because I’m not tutoring you.” I’m distracted now. Justin has reentered the room, his long, lithe body moving through the crowd as he makes his way to the pool table. He’s halfway there when a pretty brunette intercepts him. To my dismay, he stops to talk to her.
“Come on, Wellsy, help a guy out,” Garrett begs.
Justin laughs at something the girl says. Same way he was laughing with me a minute ago. And when she touches his arm and leans in close, he doesn’t back away.
“Look, if you don’t want to commit to the whole semester, at least help me pass this midterm. I’ll owe you one.”
I’m no longer paying Garrett even a lick of attention. Justin leans in to whisper in the girl’s ear. She giggles, her cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink, and my heart plummets to the pit of my stomach.
I was so sure we’d been, I don’t know, connecting, but now he’s flirting with someone else?
“You’re not even listening to me,” Garrett accuses. “Who are you looking at, anyway?”
I tear my eyes off Justin and the brunette, but not fast enough.
Garrett grins when he notices where my gaze was. “Which one?” he demands.
“Which one what?”
He cocks his head at Justin, then shifts it five feet to the right, where I notice Jimmy talking to one of his frat brothers. “Paulson or Kohl—which one do you want to bone?”
“Bone?”
He has my attention again. “Ugh. Who says stuff like that?”
“Fine, should I rephrase? Which one do you want to fuck or screw or drill or make love to, if that’s your thing.”
I set my jaw. This guy is such an asshole.
When I don’t answer, he answers for me. “Kohl,” he decides. “I saw you dancing with Paulson earlier and you definitely weren’t making googly eyes at him.”
I don’t confirm or deny it. Instead I take a step away. “Have a good night, Garrett.”
“I hate to break it to you, but it ain’t gonna happen, Wellsy. You’re not his type.”
Anger and embarrassment flood my belly. Wow. Had he really just said that?
“Thanks for the tip,” I say coolly. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”
He tries reaching for my arm but I bulldoze past him and leave him in my proverbial dust. I do a quick search of the room for Allie, halting in my tracks when I spot her making out with Sean on the couch. I don’t want to interrupt them, so I spin on my heel and head toward the front door instead.
My fingers are shaky as I text Allie to let her know I’m taking off. Garrett’s blunt assertion—you’re not his type—echoes in my mind like a depressing mantra.
Truth is, it’s exactly what I needed to hear. So what if Justin spoke to me in the hallway? Obviously it meant nothing, because in the next breath he turned around and flirted with someone else. It’s time for me to face reality. It’s not going to happen with me and Justin, no matter how badly I want it to.
It was stupid of me to come here tonight.
Waves of embarrassment course through me as I leave the Sigma house and step into the cool night breeze. I regret not bringing a coat, but I hadn’t wanted to carry it around all night, and I figured I could deal with the October chill for the five-second walk from the cab to the front door.
Allie messages back as I step onto the porch, offering to come outside and keep me company until the taxi arrives, but I order her to stay with her boyfriend. Then I pull up the number for the campus taxi service, and I’m just about to dial when I hear my name. A maddening variation of it, that is.
“Wellsy. Wait up.”
I take the porch steps two at a time, but Garrett is a lot taller than me, which means his stride is longer, and he catches up to me in no time.