Hate to Love You

I didn’t spare a look at Becs or Aby. I felt a flash of remorse for forcing the matter, but the professor called time. We had to go around and present our discussion. When it came to us, Shay stood. “We came to a deadlock.”

The professor folded his arms over his stomach. “You have five members. How could there be a deadlock?”

Shay glanced to me before saying, “Two for life. Two for choice. And one person who doesn’t have an opinion yet.”

I felt surprise from the two girls, but for some reason, I wasn’t surprised he was pro-choice. I glanced at Linde. I never would’ve imagined what his opinion had been just by looking at him.

As if feeling my attention, he looked over and dipped his head in a nod.

There it was.

I got what so many guys coveted from a starting football player at Dulane University. The nod of respect.

I grinned back, and he matched it.

My chin lifted an inch higher.

I just made my first friend in poli-sci, but my enjoyment was short-lived.

The professor announced, “Okay. Good discussion. Now exchange numbers and information with your group members. This is the group you’re going to be doing your final presentation with at the end of the semester. It’s one-third of your grade.”

I groaned and let my head fall to my desk.

Shay’s laughter fell down on me. He leaned close to my ear, whispering, “Look at that. More to look forward to.” He patted my back. “Thanks, Clarke. I knew this class wasn’t going to be boring.”

I suddenly had a bad taste in my mouth.

My reservations were up the day I met my roommate. Again—bad memories from high school, but the initial meeting went fine.

Her name was Missy.

She had a round, pimply face with a large forehead. Almost coarse-like black hair hung down past her shoulders. She was a couple inches shorter than me and quiet. Good gracious, she was quiet, but she laughed when she found out I had never watched Titanic.

She could quote the entire thing. And shocker, her bin of movies were chick flicks.

We looked at mine: all action-adventure.

She turned her nose up at Gladiator.

Really?

The similarities ended there—the fact that we both liked some (I’m being generous with that word) movies.

Her best friend and the best friend’s cousin also lived in our dorm. I went once to an ice cream shop with them and saw the pity in their eyes when Missy relayed the lack of Titanic in my life. I was put in the help category. Meaning, they thought I needed help and I was no longer in their group because it’s obvy I’m weird.

Dirty Dancing, A Walk to Remember, Hope Floats, and so many other movies were the repertoire of their conversation. I wasn’t allowed in. There were inside jokes, inside quotes, even a weird inside-type of laugh.

The one friend I did have was Kristina. She was a gift from above, though she lived two floors below, and I always jumped at her movie night invite.

Sometimes, I was tempted to ask how high, but I refrained. She wouldn’t have gotten the joke.

See, I could have my own inside jokes. Take that, snotty roommate and two friends.

Insert karate chop here.

Kristina had a heart-shaped face and short, auburn hair. She was nice, really and truly nice, and she was gorgeous. A small chin under plush lips and hazel eyes, mixed with an infectious laugh, and if she hadn’t come to college with a steady boyfriend, she would’ve been “wifed up” real quick.

Even now, after leaving poli-sci and seeing her standing by the post before the food court, there was a handful of guys giving her the double look. They looked, turned away, and had to look back. A couple narrowed their eyes, saw the ring on her finger, and turned back to their friends.

I shook my head as I drew abreast. “That promise ring Abram gave you was a stroke of genius.”

She lifted her head from her book and frowned. “What?”

Reaching into my backpack for my ID, I gestured to her finger. “You would’ve got hit up if it wasn’t on.”

“Oh.” She rolled her eyes before ducking her head down. “I’m sure it didn’t. And it isn’t a promise ring. It’s just—” Her finger fiddled with it. “I don’t know. It was an ‘I love you’ gift.”

I nodded. “And it works. Everyone knows someone loves you.” I coughed into my fist. “I.e., you’re taken.”

She laughed. “Stop, Kennedy.”

Then her eyes trailed behind me and rounded. She sucked in a breath.

It was like I knew.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood, though not from fear. From a different emotion, and I ignored it. I ignored the delicious shiver that wound down my spine because that didn’t make sense, but I knew who had come up behind me. I felt him, and because of that, I was on edge right away.

“Clarke.”

Damn him.

A low and smooth chuckle. That voice was a caress in and of itself. I was sure a few panties were melting in our close proximity.

I rotated around. Instead of the smirk I assumed would be tugging at his lips, he wore a serious expression. It made his eyes even more smoldering, if that were possible.

He held out a hand.

I looked at it, saw it was empty, and brought my eyes back to his. “Yes?”

“Give me your phone.” His hand didn’t move. “You didn’t exchange numbers with anyone.”

I moved back a step. “Why?”

“I live off-campus. You’re not going to be able to look me up in the school directory.”

He had a point.

“I’ll look you up on Facebook or Snapchat.”

“No, you won’t. Give me your phone.”

I felt it being pulled out of my pocket, and I was too late. Kristina wore a smug grin as she quickly coded in my password and then handed it over. “Here. It’s all ready for you.”

“Hey!” I tried to grab it, but Shay moved in, blocking me with his back. I ended up pressed against him and bit back a growl. It was as if he was an athlete or something in how quickly he moved. My hands rested against his back, and I felt his muscles tense there, shifting under his shirt. He typed in his information, but paused to grin over his shoulder. “Feel free to explore more. I won’t turn down a quick grope.”

I pulled my hands back as if I’d been burned. I shifted to the right, but he moved with me. He continued to block me as he finished and then handed the phone back to Kristina. “Thank you for the assist.”

“You’re welcome.” She held her hand out. “Kristina Collins.”

He shook it, starting, “Shay Co—”

“—Coleman.” She laughed. “Trust me. My roommate and friends are fully aware of who you are.” She looked at me. “I wasn’t aware you were friends with Kennedy, though.” She made it sound like I’d been holding back tickets for the Super Bowl.

“Oh.” Shay shifted back, coming aside me again, and threw his arm around my shoulder. A girl gasped a few feet away. He pulled me against his side. “We’re good friends. You’ll be seeing more of me. Trust me.” He released me, but not before his hand skimmed down my back and rested on my ass. He patted me, leaning in and whispering, “A grope for a grope, right?” He swatted me there and headed off, chuckling under his breath.

I ignored the attention we had garnered.

Kristina hit me on the shoulder. “Kennedy! You know Shay Coleman?”

I grimaced, turning for the food court. “No. I technically don’t.”

“That didn’t look like you were strangers to me. He touched your ass.”

I repressed a shudder. “Don’t remind me.” A line had formed for the cafeteria, and we stood at the end. “And I meant it. Today’s the first day I’ve ever talked to him. We got put in a group for discussion.”

“Why’d he give you his number?”

“Because we have to do a final presentation at the end of the semester.” I saw the excitement forming. “The whole group, not just us two.”

“But still.” She reached for my arm. “Sarah, Laura, and Casey are going to go nuts over this. Casey, especially. She’s been fawning over him since the first football game.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">