King of Campus

I give a stiff little nod to Sam who rather smartly doesn’t utter one damn word.

My eyes arrow right back to Dylan before I grit out, “Where’s Lexie?”

“Shower. We’re heading out soon. You coming?” The way he asks this has me suspecting that maybe he’s hoping I’m not.

Even though I had zero intention of going out tonight, my eyes slide to a still smirking Roan before I jerk my thumb in his direction. “Is he going?”

Dylan shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Ummm, yeah.”

“Then no,” I shake my head emphatically, “I’m not.”

He shoots a questioning gaze towards Roan before muttering under his breath, “Lexie won’t be happy about that.”

As if on cue, the bathroom door opens and out billows a ton of steam along with my roommate. She’s wrapped in an oversized tan colored towel. Dylan yanks his eyes from the TV screen before quickly jumping to his feet. “Yeah… I’m going to help Lex get dressed.”

“Hey, babe.” Unaware of the thick tension that has descended upon us, she commands, “Go get changed, girl. We’re hitting a couple first-day-of-school parties. Plus, we have to celebrate you finally getting your ass back to America.” She makes a few hand gestures which are meant to send me scurrying to my room to change. “Shoo now… go on and be quick about it.”

Feeling absurdly aggravated that the bane of my existence is sitting in my very own living room, grinning at my obvious irritation, I shake my head. “No thanks. It’s been a long day and I’m still feeling jet lagged.” Although I’m pretty damn sure I could have been cajoled into going out for a drink or two to celebrate being back at Barnett. But there’s no way in freaking hell I’m going anywhere with that tool bucket.

That being said, I head to my room before closing the door softly behind me. Even though I want to slam it so the door rattles on its hinges, I don’t. The last thing I want is to give that egomaniac out there the satisfaction of hearing me slam my bedroom door like some two year old in the midst of a temper tantrum.

But it’s hard.

Slumping onto my bed, it finally sinks in that I’m going to be constantly running into this guy. It’s totally unavoidable. Having a class with him for the rest of the semester is bad enough. Now I find out that he lives right next door? And his friend is going out with my best friend?

Perfect.

Just fucking perfect.

God, this day just keeps getting shittier and shittier. Every time I think I’ve reached rock bottom, I somehow manage to jackhammer down to a new level. It’s enough to have moisture gathering in my eyes. Five minutes later, there’s a gentle knock on my door. Not waiting for an answer, Lexie pushes it open before peeking her head around the corner.

“Come on, Ivy-Girl, you have to come out with us. We can’t celebrate you being back at Barnett without you.” Her lips tug up into a small smile before she adds, “Well, we can but it won’t be half as much fun.”

Meeting her eyes, I halfheartedly say, “I’m just really tired. I think I’m going to shower, watch a little TV, and hit the sack. We’ll celebrate this weekend for sure.”

Silently she searches my eyes as if she’s sifting through them for the truth, which she probably is. Without another word, she steps into the room before closing the door quietly behind her. Then she plunks herself down next to me on the bed. The mattress dips under our combined weight.

Lexie and I have been best friends for a really long time. She knows me well enough to understand that something isn’t right. Plus, I’m pretty much betting that Dylan filled her in while helping her get dressed. Honestly, I’m surprised they’re out so quickly.

“So what’s the deal with Roan? What happened today?”

Before I can even begin to deny it, she arches a brow and cuts me off. “Dylan said you two had some kind of run in,” she pauses, her lips twitching, “and it didn’t go well?”

Rolling my eyes, I launch into the whole embarrassing coffee debacle. By the end of my story, her lips are doing way more than twitching. Clearly she’s having a hard time keeping a straight face.

I raise a brow before gritting out with as much outrage as I can muster, “He’s a total self-absorbed tool who propositioned me for sex.”

Those words have her bursting out in laughter.

Which only ratchets up my annoyance. “It’s not funny! It’s insulting,” I sniff before adding, “For all womankind.” Neither of us mention that I’m not exactly a hard core feminist. But still… “Not just me.”