“Oh yeah?” I call out over a yawn. “How so?”
“Lets just say he acts like the sexual harassment guide that all the employees received was a how-to.” Cal says with disgust. “A real womanizer.”
His comment has me scrunching up my face. “Huh, I’d think you two would hit it off then.”
“What does that mean?” his tone defensive.
I shrug even though he can’t see me. “Two peas in a pod.”
“You think I’m a sleazy womanizer?” he asks, and I can hear his surprise.
“I know so,” I state emphatically, folding my arms across my chest, refusing to back down because he’s offended at hearing the truth. Good.
Click! The fluorescent tube lights above me go on, filling my room with their brightness. “What the hell?” I shout. My eyes are slowly adjusting when I see a shirtless Cal in drawstring, checkered pajama pants filling the fully open doorway. His brows are furrowed, and he looks pissed. Hot AF, but angry as fuck, too.
“Is that what your problem is?” he asks with his hands on his hips, and I spy that sexy V line that dips below his loose pants.
“Um … my problem?” I stumble out momentarily confused.
His intensity silences me. The color of his eyes resembles a rich, dark chocolate bar, my favorite. I can’t hold his gaze, so I shift my attention down to stare at his pecks instead and immediately realize my mistake. Sitting up ram-rod straight, my sheet slips to my waist as I glare back at him.
Thankfully, I’m at least wearing my cute, yellow, silk camisole set to bed. To be honest, I wore it just in case we should see one another tonight. This is not the occasion I was expecting, though. “My problem is that you’re in my room.”
“Tough. You think I’m a womanizer?” He repeats.
“No, I know you are a womanizer, player, fuckboy, or whatever you want to call it.”
Cal jolts his head back as if I slapped him. “And what makes you think this?”
I point to where he is standing. “We share a connecting door, remember? The one you just barged through.”
“Your point?”
“My point is I hear you all the time in there with girls.”
“So what? They’re just friends.”
“More like friends with benefits,” I shoot back.
He’s shaking his head and looking at me like I’m the deranged one. “Benefits like studying, you mean? My mom raised me better than that, and my sister would chew me out if I acted like a fuckboy,” he says while stepping farther inside my room. “I’ve only had two relationships since being at Thatcher College. One freshman year and most recently, my ex-girlfriend, Trina, but we broke up last year before summer break.”
I give him a look that I hope says I wasn’t born yesterday. “And what about the porno I overheard at the start of this school year?”
He stills, looking slightly embarrassed. Although shouldn’t I be the uneasy one for enjoying that performance a little too much?
“You heard that?” Cal asks gaping.
“Every high note.” I nod and he swears and rubs a hand over his face and facial hair stubble.
“That … well, was a drunken night with Trina after seeing one another again at the Fall Festival. I guess we had some unfinished business.”
I’d say, but I hold my tongue and he continues. “But we both know we’re not right for one another and it only reminded us later the reasons why we ended it.”
“Why aren’t you right for one another?” Crap, I didn’t mean to ask that question. It just sort of popped out on its own. Was she “not like” other women, too?
He walks forward and sits down at the foot of my bed. He doesn’t have to hop up like I do, either. He releases a slight sigh. “We had nothing in common.”
A pang erupts in the pit of my stomach. Neither do we. This time, though, I manage to keep that remark to myself, and Cal goes on talking. “She’s in college to party, but I have a track scholarship to maintain. Not blowing my chance at a free ride for the best education around.”
