Laurel
I check my hair at least a half-dozen times, once more running a palm down the loose waves to smooth them, tossing them over my shoulder when I’m done. Tilt my head this way and that in the mirror, the light catching on my large gold hoop earrings.
Add another coat of black mascara. Lip gloss.
My navy-blue t-shirt is long-sleeved, and I throw a vest over the top. Black leggings. Tall black boots.
I want to look cute, but not like I’m trying too hard since Rhett isn’t judging me by my appearance. I’ve noticed that about him—he’s focused on me. Not my hair, or my face, or my boobs.
Still, I want to look cute—for him.
Satisfied with my reflection, I hit the light on my way out of the bathroom, gathering up my backpack, phone, and sunglasses.
Unbutton my vest so my boobs show.
Button it.
Catch my reflection in the mirror by the door, give my hair another fluff.
Rhett is sauntering down the street when I come out of the house, bag slung over his broad shoulder, holding the strap with one hand, the other shoved into the pocket of his dark, slouchy jeans.
He’s got a blue ball cap covering his unruly hair, and I can see the curly ends sticking out of the bottom from my spot on the porch. His Henley sweater is gray, layered over a white t-shirt, the stark white peeking out from beneath his collar.
Man, this guy is growing on me like a weed.
“Mornin’.” His voice is a deep baritone, the kind of deep from having just woken up, the sexy deep that makes your insides quiver, shakes your shoulders.
“Hello to you.” I hold up my offering. “Hungry?”
Two vanilla protein shakes.
Rhett takes one, surprised. “Thank you.”
“I have water bottles in my backpack, too.”
His brows go up. “Really?”
“One for you, one for me.”
We start off under the brisk morning clouds, overcast skies above, an impending rain forecast looming. I sidle a few inches to my left, closer to Rhett’s imposing form.
Brush my elbow against his arm. Once. Twice.
I watch as he bites the inside of his cheek to stop from grinning. To occupy himself, he opens up the protein shake and takes a long pull, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, smiling around the bottle. “What class do you have this morning?”
“Astronomy.”
“Astronomy?”
I laugh, taking a swig of my shake. “Yeah. I had a science gen-ed to fulfill. I dragged my feet freshman year, so I have to take it now.” I shoot him a sidelong glance, eyeing his ball cap, the hair looping around his ears. “What about you?”
We arrive at the crosswalk, stopping to check traffic.
“Global Environmental Policy and Negotiation.”
“Did my eyes just bug out?” I laugh. “Because that sounds intense.”
“It is.”
“How do you manage?”
Those hefty shoulders lift into a shrug. “I just do.”
A cool breeze blows across the commons, and I step closer still, my body aching for physical contact.
“You cold?” he asks, brows drawn. “Do you want to go back for a jacket?”
“No. I’ll be fine once I get inside.” It’s my fault I wanted to look cute and not puffy from a thick coat.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I shiver.
In my imagination, Rhett’s hand moves up and down my back, doing that thing you do when you’re trying to keep someone warm. I’d snuggle into him, settle under his armpit. Bask in his warmth.
Sigh contently.
Instead, we march onto campus in the direction of the science building in a comfortable silence. It feels good being next to him, and when we get closer to my building, I’m tempted to rise to my tiptoes and show him just how—
“Hey Rhett!” A female voice interrupts from behind.
Together, we turn.
A pretty little brunette stands about ten feet away, sheepishly clutching a stack of books in her hands. She’s short, perky, and eyeing him up and down.
“Hey Monica.”
Ah, so he does know her.
She spares me a brief glance but shoots him an eager, blinding smile.
“Are you going to be coming to study group this week?”
“I’m not sure. I’m caught up with all my notes, so…” Rhett’s voice trails off. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“If you can’t make it, maybe we can change it?” She blushes, shrinking down into her winter coat. “I’m sure the others would be glad to see you there.”
And by others, she means herself.
She’s so hopeful.
Something in the pit of my stomach curls, wraps itself around my heart and squeezes.
Monica has a crush on Rhett.
Crap.
Monica has a crush on Rhett, and she’s in his study group for the entire semester.
Ugh.
Not going to lie, insecurity wells up in the form of jealousy, and in a move I’ll later classify as blatantly territorial, I loop my arm through his, relaxing my hand on his bicep. The muscles flex instinctively beneath my palm.
Monica’s eyes slide to that hand, landing and resting there. When her mouth forms a little O of understanding, my inner bitch does a fist pump, throws a parade, and waves at the onlookers.
Yes, that’s right—he’s mine.
“Oh. Okay, well…okay.” Monica’s dull brown ponytail blows in the breeze. “Guess I’ll see you in class.”
Rhett nods, clueless. “Yup.”
“Bye.” She scurries off, and we both watch as she hastily disappears into the university union. I’m holding Rhett by the arm, right next to his warm, heated body.
My hand gives his muscles one solid squeeze before releasing him, stepping away. “Thanks for the company.”
“No problem.” He looks down at the ground then up at me, hair in his eyes. “Have a good day.”
“You too.” I smile up at him. “What are you doing later?”
“Practice. We have a home meet this week.”
My brows shoot up into my hairline. “You do?”
“Yeah.” He pauses. “It’s at the arena.”
The arena is huge.
“Isn’t that where they have basketball games?”
“That’s the one.”
“Wow. That many people show up?”
Rhett laughs, snaking his fingers under his baseball cap and readjusting it. Plays with the bill, squeezing it tighter over his forehead. “Yeah. That many people show up.”
“How would you find me in the crowd if I showed up?” I playfully tease.
“I have a feeling you’d be hard to miss.” He dips his head, embarrassed.
So freaking adorable.
“I’d love to come see you wrestle. What time does it start?”
“Six. I can…” He trails off. Clears his throat. “I can make sure you have tickets at will call.”
I take that moment to lean in, the front of my vest brushing against his sweater, getting up nice and close. “I would love that.”
I’m not trying to invade his personal space, but I do it anyway. He smells freshly showered and incredible, clean and strong and male. “You smell good.”
His white teeth play peekaboo with his lips. “So do you.”
We stand outside the brick science building, grinning at each other until a girl from my class walks by, staring openly. Curiously. Wiggles her brows as she passes. I don’t know her name, but I recognize her; she sits in the back row, too.
I’ll have to introduce myself.
“I guess I should go inside.”
“Right. I should…” He throws a thumb over his shoulder.
I don’t want him to go. I want to skip class and spend the day with him, doing nothing together. Get to know him better. Find out what makes him laugh. What pisses him off. How he’s settling in with the rest of his team now that the dust on the dine and dash has settled.
“See ya.” I don’t even try to hide my idiotic grin.
Neither does he. “Bye.”
Then I’m rising up on the toes of my black boots, stretching to reach his strong jaw. I kiss the underside of it, stubble pricking my lips in the most delectable way.
His breath stops, lips part.
“Message me later?”
He nods. “I will.”
“Bye.”
God, this is as bad as when I was in high school, flirting on the phone with my teenage boyfriend: You hang up. No, you hang up! I’ll hang up when you hang up…
I peel away from him, stepping backward toward the building before I turn and finally commit to going to class.
Sigh.
“So what’s going on with you and that guy?”
I’m having lunch with Alex—the first time since that day she brought the Get Rett Laid poster—and she’s just switched gears on me after giving me the entire rundown on her boyfriend/sidepiece saga.
Juggling two guys is going to catch up with her, but who am I to judge? Alexandra is going to do what she wants to do, whether it’s wrong or right.
“What’s going on with what guy?” I play dumb.
“You know, the ugly guy from the flyer—the dude from the party.”
My nostrils flare. “Okay, first of all, he’s not ugly. Secondly, his name is Rhett, and he’s a really nice guy.”
My cousin rolls her eyes. “Right.” She clearly doesn’t care. “He’s nice because he has to be.”
“You think it’s fair that people judge me without getting to know me first because I’m attractive?”
“So you agree? You think you’re really pretty?”
“Stop quoting Mean Girls, I’m being serious.” I pick up one of the French fries on my tray and pop it in my mouth. Chew. Swallow. “I’m not going to do that to Rhett—he’s such a good guy.”
“So?”
“So what I’m saying is, he and I have gotten close in the past few weeks.”
“How close?”
“I don’t know…like, I’m waiting for him to ask me on a date, close.”
Alexandra leans back in her chair, stunned. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.”
“Wow. You really do like him.”
“Yeah. He’s great.” I lean forward. “He speaks French and it’s so freaking hot.”
“Shut up.”
“Ugh. Every once in a while he says something I can’t understand and I pretend he’s telling me to take my clothes off and strip down naked.”
“That escalated quickly.”
“I can’t help it. He grew on me really quickly. We haven’t had any deep, meaningful conversations, but I feel this weird connection that’s more than physical—although I totally want to have sex with him too. His body is crazy hot.”
Alex stares. “You should hear yourself.”
My shoulders move up and down. “No apologies.”
“Is this a guy you want to bring home to Aunt Karen and Uncle David?”
“My parents? Yeah, I think they’d love him.”
“Well shit. I don’t know what to do with this information.”
“That’s because your situation is fucked up. Pick a guy and date him. Stop fucking your boyfriend’s roommate. There, I said it.”
“You wouldn’t understand what it’s like being average.”
“Why? Because I have bright red hair and big boobs and guys think I’m nice to look at? How does that make my life easier? All guys do is use me. That’s no fun either.” I pick up another fry, but my stomach is in knots and I can’t bring myself to put it in my mouth. “All I’m saying is, Dylan likes you. Either break up with him or stop seeing Johnathan. The shit is going to hit the fan and you’re going to be standing under it without an umbrella when it does.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Do you care?”
She picks at the food on her tray. “Honestly? Not really.”
“Well then, I’ll worry about my guy problems, and you can worry about yours.” The water I chug goes down smooth, but it feels shitty that my cousin can be such an asshole.