Campus Heartthrob (The Campus Series Book 2)

by Jennifer Sucevic

  Everything inside me lifts.

  This right here could be my way out of this mess!

  I tap the screen before punching in my password and pulling up the message.

  Sorry. All booked up at the moment.

  There’s a sad face emoji to rub a little more salt in the wound.

  Damnit!

  That leaves Brayden as my only viable option. I can’t afford to push off this project any longer. With everything else going on, I’ll need at least a month to prepare a portfolio of drawings.

  Unwilling to accept defeat just yet, I fire off one last text.

  Are you sure? I just need a few hours of your time.

  I tack on the pleading emoji so he realizes how desperate I am.

  “I thought after Ethan, you were going to take a break from guys. What happened to dating yourself for the time being?”

  I shake my head, unable to come up with a plausible explanation. I really hate when people use my own words against me. Now I have to backtrack without sounding like a boy-crazy flake. When it comes to guys, I have a terrible track record. My relationships inevitably tank. And I end up hopping from one guy to another. This thing with Brayden makes me look like I’m reverting back to old patterns of behavior.

  “What can I say?” It’s almost painful to force out the next words. They taste like bitter ashes on my tongue. “When the right one comes along, you just know it.”

  Demi’s eyes grow wide. Just as she opens her mouth to respond to that absurd statement, my cell dings with another text. I say a quick prayer that Leo has taken pity and relented.

  Instead, I find a message from the very last person I want to hear from.

  Let’s meet at Denby’s Diner in an hour to hash out specifics.

  A third text rolls in five seconds later.

  Sorry, love. Can’t do it.

  With no other choice in the matter, I reluctantly agree to meet Brayden.

  Chapter Twelve

  Brayden

  Looking pale and grumpy, Sydney drops onto the seat across from me at a diner that’s a couple of blocks away from campus.

  “Hey,” she greets in a monotone voice.

  “Nice to see you, too,” I shoot back easily.

  She glares before rolling her eyes.

  Before either of us can delve into this much-needed conversation, a waitress sidles up to the table to take our breakfast order. Sydney picks up the menu and peruses it. “I’ll take oatmeal, a side of fruit and,” she purses her lips, “a yogurt with a large coffee.”

  The girl flicks her gaze in my direction. It only takes a moment before recognition dawns across her face, and she beams. “You’re Brayden Kendricks!”

  I force a polite smile to my lips. It’s not uncommon to get recognized both on and off campus. At the moment, though, it’s not helping matters with Sydney. She’s already irritated. Having some overzealous fan gush in front of her will only make matters worse. “Yup, I am.”

  The waitress edges closer before dropping her voice. “Can I get your autograph before you leave? My boyfriend would kill me if he knew that I waited on you and didn’t ask. All he talks about is how you’ll turn pro at the end of this year.”

  “Sure, no problem.” I shift uncomfortably on my seat, just wanting her to take my order and move it along so I can talk with Sydney. When she continues to stare with a perma-grin plastered across her face, I clear my throat. “I’ll have eggs and lightly buttered wheat toast. Coffee, black. Thanks a lot.” I flash a tight smile, willing her to take the hint and walk away before this situation can turn any more awkward.

  It takes a long, drawn out moment for her to snap to attention before scribbling on her notepad. As she takes a reluctant step in retreat, her gaze stays pinned to mine. “I’ll be right back with your breakfast.”

  Sydney cocks her head. “All the hero worship must be exhausting.”

  There’s not much I can say to that. If I bitch about people bothering me, then I’m an asshole. If I flash a smile and tell her that it’s all part of the job, I look like an egomaniac asshole who loves the adoration.

  Either way, I look like an asshole. It’s a no-win situation.

  Yeah, I know. Boo-hoo, Brayden. Life is tough.

  And Sydney, unfortunately, already thinks I’m a gigantic asshole. I don’t need to do anything that will further confirm her suspicions.

  When I fail to respond, she clears her throat and glances away. “So, I’m here. What was so urgent?”

  I jerk my shoulders. I had a whole plan in place and now that she’s sitting sullenly across from me, I have no idea what to say. I just want a chance to smooth over what happened last night. To say that she was less than thrilled to be my girlfriend is an understatement. It doesn’t escape me that any other chick would be jumping at the chance to say they were with me.

  Not this one.

  If the look on her face is anything to go on, she’d rather gouge her own eyeballs out than continue with this farce. At this point, I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to change her opinion.

  I’ve always known that Sydney didn’t like me, but I’m unsure as to the reason why. I’ve never done anything to inspire this kind of intense dislike. Sure, I enjoy giving her shit, but it’s all been in good fun.

  Just as I’m about to broach the subject, a group of college-aged students saunter past on the way to a table in the back. When my gaze flickers to them, they grind to a halt beside us.

  “Hey, Brayden,” one of the guys pipes up, “great game yesterday. Congratulations on the win.” His gaze slides to Sydney. “And congrats, I saw on Snap last night that you two are now an item.”

  “Yeah,” one of the girls chirps, “now you need a ship name. I was thinking something like Brayney. That’s super cute, right?” Her enthusiastic gaze bounces to Sydney.

  I wince.

  This girl is way too peppy for ten o’clock on a Sunday morning. She needs to tone it down. And for everyone’s sake, stay away from any more caffeine.

  Sydney must agree because her only response is to silently burn holes into the girl.

  I clear my throat when it becomes obvious that the blonde across from me isn’t going to respond. “Yeah, that’s a definite keeper. Thanks for stopping by.”

  “No problem, man,” the guy says. “See you around.”

  “Sure will.”

  Once they depart, our waitress returns with our cups of steaming hot coffee. She leans closer and lowers her voice as if she’s spilling state secrets. “I put a rush on the order. It should be out in a minute or so.”

  “Great,” I say. “Appreciate it.”

  She gives me a wink before rushing away.

  “This is a nightmare,” Sydney grumbles, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the unwanted attention. “If I’d realized last night that this would be such a big deal, I wouldn’t have agreed to it.” She glances at the table of people who just stopped by. They all wave when they catch sight of her looking at them. If she’s not careful, they’ll take that as a silent invitation to join us. I’ve had it happen before. “Why do they even care?”

  I shrug. Honestly, I have no idea, but it’s been this way since I stepped foot on campus. What I’ve discovered is that the glare of the spotlight can be blinding. Especially when you’re not used to it. If Sydney thinks this is bad, it’ll be ten times worse once I make it to the NFL. That’ll be on a national scale. The fandemonium isn’t necessarily something I enjoy, but it comes with the territory. You can’t have one without the other. Over the years, I’ve come to accept it.

  “After a week or so, I’m sure it’ll settle down.”

  “Great. Just in time for us to—”

  “Here you go! Hot off the griddle!” The waitress slides my plate of eggs and toast in front of me before doing the same with Sydney’s oatmeal, fruit bowl, and yogurt. She flashes a smile at both of us. “Is there anything else I can get for you, Braydey?”

  Sydney’s mouth falls open.

&n
bsp; “Nope,” I say hastily. “We’re all set! Thanks.”

  “No problem at all! I’ll be back to check on you in a couple of minutes. Otherwise, just wave me down if you need anything.”

  “Will do!” I say, only wanting her to disappear.

  This is going much worse than I imagined. As if to prove that point, an oppressive silence falls over the table as the waitress takes off.

  Is it too much to hope that Sydney is just hangry?

  Maybe if she gets a little grub into her belly, it’ll improve her disposition. Although, that’s probably wishful thinking on my part.

  With a sigh, she mutters, “Are you sure we need to go through with this?”

  When she glances around the restaurant for a second time, I find myself doing the same. As soon as my gaze connects with a table of four girls, they all giggle and wave in unison. I jerk my attention back to Sydney.

  She grumbles something indecipherable under her breath before digging into her bowl of oatmeal. Once she plows her way through most of her breakfast and I’ve demolished mine, it feels like we should get down to business so we’re both on the same page if people start poking around and asking questions. Even though I had to talk her into the situation last night, it feels like I’ve got to do it all over again. If I don’t play my cards right, she’ll end up walking away, leaving me high and dry. And I can’t afford for that to happen.

  “This doesn’t have to be difficult,” I say. “Hell, it might even be pleasant.”

  Her expression flattens as if she doesn’t believe that’s within the realm of possibilities.

  In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have led with that.

  “Anyway,” I clear my throat when she remains silent, “here’s what I’m thinking—we walk around campus together, sit by each other in class, hit a couple of parties over the weekend, engage in a little PDA to make it look legit—”

  “What?” She pokers up on her seat before shaking her head. “PDA? That wasn’t part of the original agreement.”

  I lift a brow. “What’s the problem?” I’ve seen this girl make out with tons of guys throughout the years. She’s no stranger to public displays of affection. So maybe there’s no affection on her part, but still...is swapping spit with me really that big a deal?

  She jerks her shoulders before her gaze falls to my mouth. “I just don’t think it’s necessary. That’s all.”

  I press against the table, swallowing up some of the distance between us. “Trust me, it’s completely necessary.” My mind tumbles back to the party and what it felt like to lock lips with her. It’s definitely something I want to do again. Sooner rather than later. “We need to make this look real. I want Kira out of my life once and for all.”

  “Fine, but I’m not happy about it,” she mutters.

  “Noted.” I tilt my head. “Although, you sure didn’t seem to have a problem with it last night.”

  Color floods her cheeks. Have I ever seen Sydney blush?

  I don’t think so. It’s kind of adorable.

  “I’d be more than happy to provide a refresher. All you have to do is say the word.”

  She shakes her head. “No, thanks. We’ll just save it for when we need to put on a show.”

  “Your loss,” I say with a shrug, leaning back against the booth.

  After last night, I’m itching to get my hands on her again. I’ve had a hard-on for that girl for years. If I can sweet talk her into bed, it just might do the trick in purging her from my system. Although, for obvious reasons, that will be a challenge.

  All this conversation has done is confirmed my earlier suspicions that she can’t stand the sight of me. Under normal circumstances, it would be water off a duck’s back, and I wouldn’t give a shit, but for some reason, with Sydney, it bothers me.

  I’ve never been able to figure it out. Now that we’re going to be stuck together for a couple of weeks, it seems as good a time as any to get to the bottom of her disdain.

  “You don’t like me very much, do you?” There’s a pause. “Why is that?”

  As much as I hate to admit it, air gets wedged in my throat as I wait for a response.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sydney

  My gaze jerks to Brayden in surprise.

  What exactly am I supposed to say?

  The truth? That I don’t like him. Or do I brush off the question and keep everything surface level like I’ve done for the past couple of years?

  It’s not like Brayden and I are friends. We’re barely acquaintances. Even though I’ve tried to avoid him, it hasn’t done much good, or I wouldn’t be stuck in this predicament. Spending the next couple of weeks together won’t make us besties. Much like the accounting project, we’re stuck together and have to make the best of the situation.

  There’s only one thing we have in common. And that’s our friends dating.

  Other than that?

  Absolutely nothing.

  Brayden isn’t anything more than an attention-seeking whore. And I don’t have time for that.

  When I fail to respond, he presses even closer to the table. “Are you going to give me an answer?”

  The question spurs me into tossing one back at him. “Does it really matter how I feel about you?”

  Hurt flares in his eyes before being quickly snuffed out. It’s enough to prick at my conscience.

  His shadowed jaw hardens. “I suppose not, but it would at least be nice to know the reason.”

  This isn’t the conversation I expected to have over breakfast. If I could bolt from the booth, I would. My gaze meanders to the large picture window we’re parked in front of and the deserted streets beyond.

  Is there really any point in dredging up the past?

  Will it solve anything?

  Nope. I should change the subject and move on to the only reason I’m sitting here with him.

  “Sydney?” he says, interrupting the whirl of my thoughts.

  My gaze skitters to his. The words escape from my mouth before I can stop them. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

  He blinks, looking as thrown off by my shift in conversation as I was by his. “Remember what?”

  Seriously?

  Was I that forgettable?

  Somehow, that only makes matters worse. Heat floods my cheeks and I wish it were possible to snatch the question from the air. But it’s much too late for that.

  There’s a headache brewing at the back of my skull. It feels like tiny men with hammers are persistently chipping away at a block of stone. Tylenol and Pedialyte haven’t done a damn bit of good. And this mortifying conversation is only making matters worse. My first mistake was getting out of bed this morning. The second was agreeing to meet Brayden. And it was all downhill from there.

  Actually, if we want to trip back further in time, the mistake that started all of this was showing up to that damn party last night. That’s where everything went wrong.

  After Brayden announced that we were Western’s newest item, I tossed back a few drinks. There was a chorus of aren’t you lucky and I wish I were you from the females present. Since I was irritated about being forced into the situation in the first place, it was more than I could withstand. So, I made a game out of it. Every time some stupid girl sighed and said you’re so lucky, I downed a drink. Needless to say, I lost track after an hour. I vaguely recall Brayden taking me home at the end of the night. If memory serves, he might have carried me in his arms.

  That part is fortunately murky.

  Brayden’s dark stare burns into mine. He’s showing no signs of relenting. I hold it for a few heartbeats before shifting uneasily on my seat and glancing out the window for a second time. What happened between us freshman year isn’t worth dredging up. It’s obvious from the confusion on his face that he has no idea what I’m talking about, which only makes matters worse.

  My mind spins, attempting to find a way to backtrack from this mortifying conversation. Unfortunately for me, I’m not running on all
cylinders.

  It’s painful to admit that I’d had a bit of a thing for Brayden first semester of freshman year. Even thinking about it makes me wince. My only consolation is that I certainly wasn’t the only one. To this day, girls crush hard on the handsome football player. The guy wasn’t crowned Campus Heartbreaker three years in a row for nothing. With his dark hair and eyes, it’s not difficult to fall straight into lust with him.

  And I had.

  Hard.

  I’d sighed and stared every time I caught sight of him across campus like a giddy schoolgirl. One night at a party, we ended up talking. One thing led to another and suddenly we were making out. When the petting turned hot and heavy, I’d pumped the brakes, not wanting to go any further. Even in my alcohol-infused state, I’d realized that I didn’t want to have sex at a frat house. Brayden had seemed cool with that. He’d asked for my number, told me he would text the next day and...

  Never bothered.

  In all honesty, I could have lived with that. Guys are notorious for pulling that kind of crap all the time. What was more difficult to swallow was seeing him at a party the next night, making out with another girl.

  Here’s the kicker—he’d looked me straight in the eyes and acted like he didn’t know who the hell I was. At the time, I’d assumed he was being a dick. Like it was some kind of game to see how many girls he could tag and bag in a weekend. If I’d been looking for a way to rid myself of the unwanted crush, that had done the trick.

  I’ve made it a point to steer clear of Brayden like an incurable STI ever since.

  Can you blame me?

  I’m startled back to the present when strong fingers fasten around my chin and manually turn my face until I have no other choice but to meet Brayden’s unwavering stare head on. Unwanted attraction sizzles through me at the innocuous contact. I’m so tempted to rip my chin from his grip. I don’t want him touching me, forcing me to feel sensations I’d prefer didn’t exist.

  What doesn’t make sense is that I dated Ethan for six months and he never stirred these kinds of emotions inside me. Neither did the long string of guys that came before him. There was never this combustible energy that hummed beneath the surface like a live wire.