No fucking way.
She’s a communications major? Gotta be. No other reason to enroll in this class.
Fuck my life.
There are forty thousand students at Waverly, and I can’t escape my salty neighbor.
Mac glances in my direction and it’s enough to get my feet moving again. I make my way to the third row and slide into the empty desk next to the she-devil.
“Why am I not surprised?” she whispers, flipping her hair and filling the air between us with the scent of jasmine. “Of course you’re on a first-name basis with the professor.”
“I’ve never met the guy before today.” I open my bag and pull out my laptop. “But I think it’s safe to say he’s a fan of Wildcat football. Unlike some people.”
She’s quiet for a long time, those dark, wide-set eyes fixed on me, and I take the opportunity to study her. Straight nose. High cheekbones. Stubborn chin. She’s wearing a loose black-and-white checkered tank top that reveals just a hint of cleavage, red shorts, and chunky black booties. Despite the scowl on her face, she looks fine as hell.
When she finally speaks, I’ve almost forgotten what we were discussing.
“It’s not the sport I have a problem with.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” It’s one I could’ve done without.
Fact is, I still haven’t figured out what it is I’ve done to piss this girl off and it’s driving me nuts. When no one copped to the itching powder incident, I half wondered if it was her. The gymnastics team had access to the building and I sure as hell wouldn’t put it past the she-devil.
But even worse?
The little demon slipped into my fantasies again this week with those goddamn Sailor Moon pajamas, nipples straining against the soft white cotton and her silky blue hair—
“Yeah, well, just because you two are besties, don’t think it means I’m going to let you copy my notes.”
So much for the fantasy.
Screw the fantasy. The reality is even better. Sutton’s hot when she’s dishing all that snark.
Which definitely has me questioning my sexual kinks.
Never thought I’d be into pain—or is it degradation?—but here we are.
“I can do my own damn work, thank you very much,” I whisper. “Turns out, I’m more than just a pretty face.”
I bump her arm as I pull up a fresh document on my laptop and she huffs out a breath.
So I do it again, a big-ass smile on my face.
I can feel her side-eye, but pretend not to notice.
The seats are narrow as hell and I’m a big guy. We’re bound to rub elbows every now and again.
Thank Christ the class only meets once a week.
Any more and there would probably be bloodshed.
Mac holds up a sheet of paper and hands it to a guy in the first row. “I’m passing around a seating chart. Please fill in your name when it comes to you. The seat you currently occupy is now your assigned seat for the duration of the semester.”Fuck me. “As an adjunct professor, I’m only on campus once a week, and this makes it easier for me to get to know you by name. And because I’m only on campus once a week, my office hours are limited. I suggest you get to know your neighbors should you miss a lecture and need notes.”
Yeah, right. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ask Sutton for a favor.
Mac walks us through the syllabus and his expectations for the semester and I tune out, but when he mentions the internship at Sports Stream, I’m all ears.
“You’ll notice this class is full.” He gestures around the small auditorium. “I’m told there’s also quite the waitlist.”
