CHAPTER FOUR
Natalia
On my way to class the next day, I repeatedly attempt to convince myself that it is just like any other day. Just focus on your classes, and your work. Nothing else. Ignore the wonderful smell of Luke at all costs. Who’s to say he’ll even sit by me again anyway? Maybe he’ll decide to torture someone else today.
After finding a decent parking spot, I make the trek across campus to my class. I’ve always loved walking around campus. The buildings here remind me of old missions or pueblos. Palm trees are strategically placed throughout the campus, giving it a tropical feel. Inhaling a deep breath of the fresh air, I smile as I walk into the lecture hall for class. There are only two other people here. I’m always early to every class. I hate being late to anything. Just the thought of being late makes me want to break out in hives. A shiver crawls up my spine and I shake it off, forcing myself to finish any work for my other classes. If I’m being honest, there isn’t very much work to be done because I finished everything ahead of time. I always do.
With a good twenty minutes to spare before class starts, I occupy myself with mapping out my paper for one of my other classes. It’s not due for another few months, but what’s the harm? It never hurts to be ahead of schedule. I don’t know how much time passes, but when I feel someone sit next to me, my muscles tense in anticipation. I timidly tilt my head toward the seat, disappointed at the sight before me. A blonde girl with glasses and chipped red nail polish is carefully setting out her class supplies, effectively deflating my hopes that it would be Luke in her place. Maybe it’s a good thing she sat there instead of him. He’s obviously too much of a distraction for me. I still can’t tell if I like him or loathe him. His attitude gets on my nerves, and his humor completely irks me. He’s definitely good looking. I don’t think there’s any girl on this campus who can deny that. But looks aren’t everything, and I’m not sure Luke has any other good attributes other than his looks, which is really sad.
Class begins, and I push all thoughts of whoring quarterbacks aside to focus. Halfway into the lecture I notice someone slide into the unoccupied seat beside me, but I don’t pick up my head to acknowledge who it is. I can’t risk missing a word of this lecture and fall behind. I swear this professor talks like he’s an auctioneer or something. My hand is starting to cramp, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I contract carpal tunnel after taking this damn class. I know professors say to only write down the important things, but I don’t know how to do that. Everything that comes out of his mouth sounds important—so I write it all down. A clean and woodsy scent infiltrates my senses, causing my hand to falter with my frantic writing.
Jesus, that smells good. It almost smells like sandalwood and…Luke. My suspicions are confirmed as I peek out of the corner of my eye, and lo and behold, there he is. Forcing my eyes back to the podium so I don’t ogle him, I try to refocus.
I groan when I look up at the professor standing at the podium. He’s already switched to the next slide, and now I’ve missed those notes. I strain to listen in on what he’s saying, but I can’t decipher what he’s talking about since he’s moved onto the next topic. Propping my elbows on the desk, I drop my face into my hands.
Sometimes I really, really, hate college.
Is the master’s degree really worth it? I silently ask myself.
“I can be your tutor if you really need me to.”
His voice sends a jolt of electricity through my body, and I snap my gaze up to his.
Luke is leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed behind his head. Today he’s dressed in another Aztec’s football shirt and a pair of basketball shorts with a stark white pair of Nike’s. His scent wafts around me, and I take inconspicuous sniffs so I don’t seem like a complete weirdo.
Who am I kidding? That ship has already sailed.
His cologne or whatever the hell it is, is freaking magnificent. Someone needs to bottle that up and save it for later, maybe even sell it somewhere. I snap out of my idiotic thoughts, immediately noticing he doesn’t even have a notebook or pen out. His desk is empty.
“How the hell can you possibly tutor me if you haven’t even been taking notes?”
I hate that I probably always come off as a bitch around him, but his distracting good looks irritate me. I’m not like most girls. I can see a hot guy and look the other way without a care in the world, my mind already onto the next school project that needs to be done. But something about Luke makes my brain turn to mush, forcing me to act out like an irrational asshole. Luke shrugs.
“I don’t physically need to take notes. I have a good memory.” He taps his temple with his index finger. “Everything gets saved right up in here.”
I huff out an exasperated breath. “Sure, let me know how that works out for you.”
“It’s worked out pretty good for me so far.”
I do my best to ignore Luke because quite frankly I’m close to throttling him. His talking is distracting me from the lesson that I’m now behind on.
“So, what do you do for fun?” he suddenly asks, and I purse my lips, deciding if I should ignore him, or give him an answer. I turn to face him, deciding it’s in my best interest to answer, maybe then he’ll shut up.
“I mostly hang with my roommate Sam, or my friend Aliza from work. Other than that, it’s just pretty much work and school for me.”
His face sours like he’s in actual pain from hearing my answer. “God what a shitty life.”
“Hey! It is not. It just means I’ll be ready to start my career that much faster,” I hiss in a whisper. He doesn’t realize how badly I want to start my career, distancing myself from my dad and sister.
“And what about everything else? Aren’t you interested in experiencing your college years at all? You won’t be young forever.” He throws it out there like it’s something that hasn’t crossed my mind before, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“I know that asshole, but I’m also not the type of girl who enjoys going to wild parties.”
“I figured that much,” he suggests, making me frown further. “I can already imagine what your home life looks like. You and your roommate sitting around reading textbooks all day, braiding each other’s hair.” He sighs dramatically for show. That gets a laugh out of me.
Samantha reading a textbook? I’d pay to see that. Pretty sure the only things Samantha reads are text messages and the food labels on her Oreo cookies.
“Not even close. My best friend is the exact opposite of me. She’s the outgoing party girl who sleeps with any guy who looks capable of giving her an orgasm.”
Luke’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Yeah, most people don’t when they see us together.” I shrug, used to people’s surprise when they find out who my best friend is.
“Is there a reason you two are holding a conversation during my lecture?” Our professor’s voice rings out through the lecture hall and my body freezes—turning into a statue. My face visibly heats, and I flinch in mortification.
Oh God. This is bad. So bad.
My mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish. I don’t even know what to say to get out of this situation. I sink farther into my seat with the weight of everyone’s stares on me and Luke.
“Sorry, professor. My friend here was asking if I had any Pepto-Bismol, you see she’s been having the runs all morning, and didn’t want to have to keep getting up to disrupt your class.”
I swing my gaze to Luke, and stare at him in horror. Did he really just say that? In front of a class full of two hundred students, maybe more? If it’s possible for my face to turn any redder, it does. All I want to do is disappear—die of embarrassment. I take a chance looking at the professor who is just nodding his head in understanding.
Is he seriously believing this?
Oh God, if he believes it, so will everyone else.
I sink farther into my seat, any lower and I’ll slip right onto the floor. When the professor begins his lecture again, I whip my head around to face Luke, practically throwing darts with my eyes.
“Seriously? The runs!” I hiss. Luke sputters a laugh and shrugs like it shouldn’t be a big deal.
“Crisis averted. You’re welcome.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and his mouth twitches, hiding a smile.
Easy for you to say.
“I hate you. I hope you know that.”
Luke shrugs. “Join the club, baby girl.”
I do my best to ignore him the remainder of the class as well as all the stares I’m now getting from everyone else.
Have I mentioned how much I hate him? Because I do.
Once we’re dismissed, I hastily gather my stuff in my bag, trying like hell to escape before everyone else. I’m going to be known as the girl with the runs forever, thanks to jock-jackass.
“Hey, Luke,” a sultry voice purrs beside me, blocking my escape route. The girl is absolutely gorgeous. All legs and perfect skin. Luke smiles at her, making a show of looking her up and down, obviously liking what he sees. I roll my eyes at the two that are so obviously eye fucking each other.
“Well, well, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he says smoothly, and she giggles like a horny little school girl. I swear I almost gag. Shooting to my feet, I try to a move out of the aisle but she’s blocking my way. Her eyes don’t shift to me at all, almost as if I’m invisible, like it’s not even worth it for her to look at me.
“Excuse me,” I say irritably. She doesn’t look at me, just shoulders past me, falling into Luke’s open arms.
Man-whoring up close and personal. How great is that?
I roll my eyes and walk to my car in an irritable mood. I hate going to work when I’m upset because I don’t like taking my problems out on my customers, but damn, Luke has a way of getting under my skin.
Thankfully, by the time I clock in for my shift, my fury has subsided. Don’t get me wrong, I still hate Luke, but at least now, I’m not walking around like a ball of anger, ready to explode. The Bar and Grille is just as wild and lively as it always is. On the outside, it looks like your average beach shack, but on the inside, it’s incredible. There’s a wall of floor to ceiling windows with an amazing view of the beach, a fully stocked bar, dark mahogany wood with dim lighting, in-house bands playing music and beach fixtures strategically placed throughout the restaurant. CJ, the owner, worked really hard on renovating the inside. His father, who was the original owner of the Bar and Grille before he passed away, wanted the Bar and Grille to be a place that made people feel comfortable, and I think CJ mastered that with his renovations. The place is buzzing with the loud clatter of plates and shouts from my fellow co-workers as they hustle back and forth.
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips when I see Sam sitting next to our friend, Aliza, the new girl. Aliza’s long, golden blonde hair flows behind her back, and her arctic blue eyes look brighter today than they did yesterday. The first day I met her, I knew she needed a friend, so I made it my mission to include her in everything Sam and I did. Her first few days of working here were quiet and kind of awkward, but now, Sam and I are both starting to see bits and pieces of her personality. It brings a smile to my face. It feels like she’s part of our duo now—I never thought I’d meet another person I’d consider my best friend other than Sam, but Aliza has changed that. No one should ever look as sad and alone as she does. There was only one person I knew before her who had that same look—Samantha.
“Hey guys.” I slide into the seat next to Aliza. Both of my friends smile at me.
“Well, shit, look who it is,” Sam says, and I groan.
“Please don’t say shit, poop, or crap for the rest of the day. I don’t ever want to think of those bodily fluids ever again.”
They both furrow their brows, and of course Samantha is the first one to say something.
“Why would I ever say poop, or crap Natalia? I mean seriously, do you even know me at all?” She feigns hurt, placing a hand over her wounded heart. I crack a smile and roll my eyes.
“Forgive me Sam, if hearing those words remind me of the most embarrassing day of my life to date.” I drop my head into my hands, reliving my mortification in class earlier.
How am I going to show my face again?
“What happened?” Aliza asks from beside me. I proceed to tell both her and Sam about Luke and what he said. They both erupt with laughter at my expense.
“Oh God, that is priceless. I can’t believe he actually did that!” Sam cackles loudly, gaining the attention of other tables. “I really need to meet this guy now. He’s A-Okay in my book if you ask me.”
I narrow my eyes at her threateningly. “You will never meet him because I’m staying far away from him from here on out. We’ve only known each other for a week, and I seriously already want to stab him in the eye.”
“That’s pretty devious and evil. Maybe you should stay away from him then, diarrhea girl,” Sam jokes playfully as she and Aliza start laughing all over again at my expense. With a roll of my eyes, I get up from the table to start my shift.
“Hardy, har, har. You’re so funny,” I throw over my shoulder in passing.
***
My nerves are ridiculously jumbled as I walk to psyche class. I’ve had one whole day to prepare for the embarrassing walk of shame that comes with entering this class, and I’m still not entirely ready. Damn Luke Caldwell and his stupid humor.
I hate him. I mean really, really hate him.
I get to class early, as usual, sliding into a seat in the back of the class. Far, far away from the professor, and hopefully most of the students. Maybe I’ll blend into the corner—hopefully no one will even know I’m here. Pulling out my notebook and pen, I wait patiently for the class to fill up. The faster it gets started, the faster I’m out of here. I scroll through my Instagram feed on my phone to pass the time. The lecture hall fills with chatter that grows louder by the second, the class finally starting to fill up with students.
Leaning back in my chair, I continue stalking Kim Kardashian’s Instagram page. I’m not proud of it, but I can’t help it. She’s just so aesthetically pleasing to look at. Perfect face, perfect hair, perfect body; it’s a little unfair. She’s annoying yes, but you can’t deny the woman is freaking beautiful.
“You remind me of her.”
Luke’s voice jolts me out of my celeb stalking. I shift in my seat to face him, furrowing my brows.
“Of who?”
“Kim Kardashian.” He lifts his chin pointedly at my phone. I open my mouth to say something, then wisely shut it, thinking better of it. This is no doubt a joke or a trap. There’s probably an insult in that answer somewhere.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Is that another insult?” I cross my arms over my chest defensively and raise a brow expectantly. Luke chuckles, revealing his perfect smile and perfect teeth—infuriating me to no end.
“Calm down, tiger, it was a compliment.”
I narrow my eyes in scrutiny and grumble. “Somehow, I find that very hard to believe.”
“What’s so hard to believe? You guys have similar features, the tan skin, dark hair—except for her ass. That shit is just out of control. Thigh to ass ratio doesn’t lie, baby, and hers? Well, there’s something fishy going on.”
I do my best to stifle my laugh because that whole family has taken ass proportions to another level. I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling because we all know it’s not real. It’s impossible.
“Well, thanks. I guess,” I say wearily, unable to meet his gaze.
We both stop talking once the class starts. I take notes like the good student that I am while Luke sits there with his phone in hand and nothing else on his desk. I shake my head and roll my eyes. Good luck passing this class, buddy.
Typical jock.
“By the end of class, everyone will need to choose a partner who you will work with for the remainder of the semester. You both will conduct a study on the behavior and psyche of one another. Per the syllabus, this is due the week before finals begin. I suggest you all get started soon.”
I deflate in my seat. Partners, seriously? What are we, in third grade?
I’ve always hated working with a partner for schoolwork. Somehow, I always get stuck with someone who doesn’t care about their grade or the quality of their work, so I’m the one left doing everything. I prefer working alone—it’s faster and error free.
“Alright, when are we meeting up to start this?” Luke asks, and I whip around to face him.
“Excuse me?” I scoff. “What makes you think I’m going to be your partner?” Incredibility laces my voice. Luke tosses his head back and laughs.
“Believe me, the feeling is mutual, but what other choice do you have sweets?”
My jaw clenches in irritation. “I have choices, asshole,” I retort, gaining another chuckle from him.
“Right. Of course you do,” he says sarcastically with a head nod. I avert my gaze, shifting my attention to the rest of my classmates. The majority of the students have already found their partners. I huff out a breath in irritation.
Damn him.
Turning back toward him, internally fighting the urge to wipe the smug look off his face, I physically restrain myself from stabbing him in the eye with my pen.
“You did this on purpose,” I accuse through narrowed slits. He chuckles wholeheartedly.
“You give me way too much credit, sweets. I actually like it.” He winks at me and I know in that moment, without a doubt, this is a test from God. He’s testing me, making sure I won’t murder someone out of anger. It all makes sense now.
“Fine. We can be partners,” I concede in defeat. He smiles victoriously, and God help me if I don’t like the way his dimples deepen.
After class, Luke and I exchange numbers to set up a time and place that best suits the both of us to start the project. Not even five minutes go by in my next class, and I already have a new message from him. I swipe across the screen with a small shake of my head.
Luke Caldwell 10:30 a.m.: Look, now that you have my number I don’t want you booty calling me in the middle of the night, Natalia.
I scoff at his message, quickly typing out a reply.
Natalia 10:31 a.m.: In your dreams.
The text bubble pops up on the screen indicating he’s typing.
Luke Caldwell 10:33 a.m.: No seriously, if you ever need anything don’t be afraid to ask.
My brows pinch together as I read over his message. I’m still having a hard time believing he’s truly said something nice for once. Just as I’m about to respond with a sincere thank you, he ruins it.
Luke Caldwell 10:34 a.m.: Like Pepto-Bismol
Luke Caldwell 10:34 a.m.: Maybe even those anti-diarrheal pills
He adds a whole message filled with the poop emoticons and a scowl forms on my face. I knew it was too good to be true.
Asshole.
Natalia 10:36 a.m.: You’re depraved.
Luke Caldwell 10:37 a.m.: Yeah, I know. Side effect of mommy and daddy issues I guess.
With my fingers hovering over the screen, I stop to think hard about his message. Does he have serious problems with his parents? Maybe that’s why he acts the way he does. It would certainly make a lot more sense. Typically, people who act out never received much attention as kids. Take Samantha for example. My mind formulates its own scenarios of what his home life could’ve been like growing up.
I wonder if his parents were abusive? Or maybe his situation was similar to mine—not enough affection.
Natalia 10:40 a.m.: I’m sorry.
Luke Caldwell 10:41 a.m.: Don’t be, I was kidding.
He adds the laughing emoticon, and I grind my teeth together in irritation. I shove my phone in my bag, ignoring its vibrating the remainder of the class.
That’s pretty much how the next few weeks go. Luke sends me text messages throughout the day, every day, until I beg him to stop. Some are funny, like laugh out loud funny, others are inappropriate, and some are just down right gross. Most of his messages are trivial things, like what he is doing, or when he is really bored, he’ll call me on FaceTime to irritate me some more. For the most part, our relationship hasn’t changed. I still can’t stand him almost as much as he can’t stand me. His bevy of busty college girls still follow him everywhere like he’s some prophet of God. And my focus is still on school.