“The old fashioned way?” I laughed and she smirked at me.
We stood up, gathered our bags and left the union. We huddled together in the chilly wind and walked toward class. We weren’t in the same major, but we had two of the same gen-eds together this semester. And probably if I didn’t think an undergrad in Bio-Chem wasinsane, I would have switched majors just so we could have all our classes together.
Britte had aspirations to be a surgeon.
I had aspirations to join the peace corp. Or become a teacher. Or a guidance counselor. Or a psychologist. Or something. I wasn’t really sure yet, but surgeon was not in the what-I-want-to-do-with-my-life running.
“Oh, no,” Britte whispered and then tried to steer my body into the grass.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, skipping forward so she couldn’t push me into the mud puddles lining the sidewalk.
She made a high pitched squeaky sound and whispered harshly, “Colton.”
She was right. Oh no.
I told myself to keep my head down, to focus on the sidewalk and not even look his way, but obviously I couldn’t stop myself. My eyes flickered up and met his almost immediately. Ick.
Britte grabbed my arm with two hands and squeezed tightly. I absently swatted her away while keeping my eyes locked on Colton. Good grief, he was annoyingly good looking with his inky black hair, styled into a short faux hawk, and his startling blue eyes that didn’t seem to match the rest of his tanned skin.
“Hey Ellie-belly,” he greeted as soon as we were close enough. Was there ever a more annoying nickname? His voice was all concerned compassion and it only made my fingers itch to smack him. “How are you?”
How are you?As in, if he was my therapist and I was about to divulge all of my traumatic-post-breakup-secrets. Psht.
“I’m great,” I forced out a smile, feeling how fake it was by how my cheeks nearly cracked.
“Mmm,” he answered thoughtfully. “I heard you skipped the last couple weeks of classes, Els. Is something going on?”
“Are you kidding?” Britte screeched at him.
“Hey come on, Britte,” Colton put his hands up and backed up a step. “That’s not fair.”
I snorted before I could stop myself. “Yes, Colton, something is going on.”
“Is it because of me?” his voice dropped to a troubled whisper, it was his signature move. It was how he got me in the first place. Junior year, Lennox stopped by my high school to do this career day thing as a “favor” to me, more like a favor for my parents so they could show off just how big and successful he had become. He utterly embarrassed me by talking to my history teacher about what I could do to improve my grade infrontof my class.
If he would have just asked me I would have told him I wasn’t struggling intellectually, that just happened to be the most boring class in the history of the world and I couldn’t bring myself to pay attention.
Instead, Lennox completely humiliated me and then belittled me and by the time Colton found me I was pathetically desperate for a knight in shining armor. Not that he stood up to Lennox, nobody stood up to Lennox, or Grayson or even Beckett, but he did listen to me, gave me a sympathetic ear and then he asked me out on a date.
At the time I thought he was really sweet. Fast forward three years, I’m realizing his whole “listening-ear” thing was just a way to get in as many girls’ pants as he could. Ick. I was such an idiot for wasting so much of my life on him.
Especially whenhewas the one that dragged me right back into the epicenter of my family drama.
I opened my mouth to respond, to tell him that it was in fact because of him and that he could take all his concern and compassion and shove it right back up his…. butt, when-
“Ellie.”
I shivered. My name on that deep, rumbling voice, I mean how could I not?
“Hey,” I cleared my throat nervously, “Fin Hunter.”
My eyes slid from Colton’s shocked expression to the amused expression on Fin Hunter’s face. His scruff was one day longer, his chocolate brown eyes crinkled and amused and his books held so casually in his arms it was like he was born to be a college student.
“You look nice today, Ellie,” his grin grew. “less-“
“Don’t say it,” I bit out, not even wanting to hear or think or remember the word “missionary” ever again.
He laughed outright at that and then took a step forward. His hand slipped under my back pack strap, sandwiching it tight and hot to my collar bone. He tugged on it playfully, bringing me a stumbling step toward him. And then he looked down at me as if no one else were watching us, as if no one else were anywhere near us.
