Morgan

Thirteen Years Ago

Sitting in my seat in the front row of the lecture hall, I try to listen as Professor George starts to talk, but my neck is sore and aching. I roll my head, hand pressed to the back of my neck, trying to ease the pressure.

It doesn’t work.

My neck is stiff because I spent the night on the floor of my best friend, Joely’s, dorm room—and not by choice.

Joely and I had gone to high school together, and we’d decided to come to Northwestern together. We’d agreed that we’d room separately, so we could meet new people.

Joely had gotten an awesome roommate—Hannah.

I’d gotten the roommate from hell—Tori.

And I had to crash on Joely and Hannah’s floor because Tori had locked me out of our room.

The thought alone makes me grind my teeth in anger, and I ignore the ache in my chest when I recall the reason she’d locked me out of our room.

Wilder Cross.

The guy I stupidly have a crush on. Not that he even knows my name. A girl like me doesn’t register on the radar of a guy like Wilder.

He’s ridiculously beautiful with a head full of dirty-blond hair and bright blue eyes, the kind that you just want to fall into, and along with all of that is a tall, muscular body that tells me he visits the gym often. He’s the full package.

He’s part of Northwestern’s elite. The rich, beautiful crowd.

And he spent last night in my dorm room, screwing my roommate.

It makes sense that he would go for someone like Tori. She might be a bitch, but she’s gorgeous. Thin, big boobs, long, dark hair, and olive skin. She looks like she just stepped out of a L’Oréal commercial. And she comes from a wealthy family. Her dad’s the head of some bank or something.

She’s Wilder’s kind.

I, on the other hand, come from a working-class family. My dad is an electrician, and my mom is a beautician. I’m here at Northwestern on a scholarship. I’ve always been too focused on schoolwork to care about boys, but the moment I saw Wilder, there was just something about him. Something I liked.

Until last night, that is.

Of course, I’ve heard the gossip—that Wilder is a player and a self-righteous prick—but I’ve always chosen not to listen to rumors.

My mom has always said that what people project isn’t necessarily a true reflection of themselves. She says most people will only ever show you what they want you to know, and if you want to know more, then it’s up to you to dig a little deeper and get to know them properly. So, I never make snap judgments about people.

Maybe that should change.

Because I was clearly wrong about Wilder. Not that I had known much about him before last night. But, in the little I’d gleamed from him in my time at Northwestern, I’d thought he seemed nice. He was always smiling and joking around with his friends. And I’d figured, even if he was a man-whore, it didn’t make him a bad person, so long as he was up-front with the girls he was man-whoring with.

But I was wrong.

Wilder isn’t a nice guy.

He’s an asshole in the first degree.

Late last night after a long-ass shift at Starbucks, I was tired, and all I wanted to do was fall facedown on my bed and sleep. But, when I got home, I couldn’t get in my room. The door was locked, and my key wouldn’t turn, like the lock had been jammed from the other side.

Stupidly, I had a flash of worry for Tori—until I heard a load moan come from behind the door and the sound of Tori giggling. That was when I realized that Tori had locked me out of our room. It wasn’t the first time she’d pulled this kind of shit on me. So, I saw red. I hammered on the door, and when Tori finally opened up, wearing only her bra and panties, she had a scowl on her face, her dark hair all tousled up.

Then, I saw Wilder lying on her bed, naked, except for his boxer shorts.

And I wanted to throw up.

“What?” Tori snapped, like I had no right to even be knocking on our door.

I blinked at her in surprise. “Um, I’m really tired, Tori. I’ve had a long day, and I really just want to go to sleep.”

“So?” Her hand went to her hip.

“So, can you find somewhere else to…” I gestured a hand in the direction of Wilder without looking at him. I wasn’t going to say the words, and I definitely wasn’t going to look at him again.

“No,” she said.

“No?” I echoed in surprise.

“No. I’m busy, and we’re going to be busy all night, so you’ll have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

While she was saying that, Wilder had gotten up from her bed, and he came up behind her, sliding his hands around her waist and kissing her neck.

All I could do was stare at them. Angry at what she’d said and crushed, watching him touch her like that.

Then, his eyes lifted, and he looked straight at me. His eyes were glazed from alcohol. “Let her in,” he said to Tori but not taking his eyes off me. “She can watch. Maybe even join in. She looks like she could do with some loosening up.”

I heard a strangled noise, and when Wilder smirked, I realized that it had come from me.

Embarrassment stung my cheeks. I curled my hand into the hem of my work shirt.

“You ass!” Tori slapped his arm as she turned in to face him. “Aren’t I enough for you?” She pouted.

“Course you are, babe.” Wilder let an arm drop from around her and shut the door in my face.

I was too flabbergasted to react.

Then, I heard Tori say from behind the door, “You didn’t mean that, did you? About her joining in?”

He chuckled, deep and low. “Course not. I was just fucking around.”

“Good, because I didn’t think Wilder Cross was into fat chicks.”

Fat? I’m not fat!

Okay, sure, I had curves, and I was a size eight or ten, depending on the store, but that wasn’t exactly fat.

Is it?

He laughed, and that hurt more than her fat comment. Because his laughter only confirmed that he agreed with her.

And it was proven when he said, “You know me, babe. Anything over a size four, and I show her the door.”

I sucked in a painful breath as I staggered away.

I didn’t want to hear any more. I’d heard enough.

He thinks I’m…fat.

I’d never been called fat before. I knew I wasn’t super skinny, but fat never came into the equation.

I glanced down at my body, suddenly seeing myself through their eyes…his eyes.

Tears started to blur my vision, and I swiped a hand over my eyes. I hated them both in that moment…and myself for letting them get to me like that.

And for having a crush on such an asshole.

An asshole who only cared about the physical size of a girl and had no qualms over kicking me out of my room with no regard for where I would be sleeping tonight just so he could get laid.

Those two things told me everything I needed to know about Wilder Cross.

The bang of the door in the lecture hall brings my eyes to it, as it does everyone else in here.

It’s Wilder, arriving late for our lecture. His arm is slung around the shoulders of a girl who’s not Tori. Honestly, I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen her in this lecture before. He probably just picked her up outside.

She’s definitely under a size four, so I guess she won’t be shown the door.

Meow. Saucer of milk needed in the front row for yours truly.

I will not let Wilder’s idiot comment from last night bother me. I don’t care what he thinks about me.

Only that’s a lie, and I do care.

Wilder strides through the lecture hall, heading for the seats, with his minus-four companion in tow. Neither of them apologizes to our professor for their tardiness.

Assholes.

But, even still, my eyes track him without my permission.

Without warning, he looks straight over at me, like he felt me staring at him.

Heat rises in my cheeks, but I don’t look away. I let all my anger into my eyes.

I want him to know that I’m pissed at him for last night.

I see a whisper of confusion cross his brow, like he can’t figure out why I’m annoyed with him.

The fact that he can’t remember annoys me even more. The moment—no, I was so insignificant for him that he can’t even remember.

My hands curl into fists, and my pulse starts to throb in my neck.

I want him to remember. And I want him to feel bad.

I watch in those seconds that feel like hours, hoping for a hint of an apology in his eyes. Hell, I’d even take guilt.

But I get neither.

I get something, but honestly, I’d rather have had his ignorance.

Because do you know what the bastard does?

He smirks and winks at me.

My heart falls into the pit of my stomach, and hurt and embarrassment fill me.

And that is the exact moment that I stop crushing on Wilder Cross and start hating on him instead.