“Fallon,” Trevor says, his tone flat.
Fallon’s affable grin fades. “Trevor. Don’t you have someplace to be?”
“No.”
“Well, we do.” Before I know what’s going on, Fallon takes my bag and then my arm and starts walking away with me in tow.
I hear Meredith and Trevor shout something behind us and Fallon lifts his middle finger in the air and continues walking.
Luckily, my brain engages and I pull to a stop. “Wait one damn minute. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“We’re going someplace so we can talk, kitten.”
“First, stop calling me kitten.” He laughs at that and shakes his head. “Second, you ask politely, asshole. You don’t just grab someone and kidnap them.”
“You are a sight for sore eyes, kitten.”
This guy. Julien said he thought Fallon liked me in high school. Ryder doesn’t want me hanging around him for some reason. I wonder if Jayson has an opinion. My curiosity gets the better of me. I look around and see a bench between two trees in the quad, so I walk over to it. If Fallon wants to talk to me so badly, he’ll follow.
Once I reach the bench, I sit down and text Ryder.
Me: Just got abducted by Fallon. In the quad near Mason Hall.
Fallon places my bag at my feet then leans up against an adjacent tree. He plants his hands in his pockets while cocking his head, staring at me, that all-knowing smirk once again plastered across his roguish face.
My phone dings but it’s not Ryder.
Meredith: Trevor is losing his shit. Text me later. OMG! Fallon Montgomery! Holy crap girl!
I place my phone back in my pocket.
“You’ve got your audience, Fallon. So talk.”
“Shit, kitten.” He takes one hand out of his pocket, unwraps a stick of gum with his thumb and middle finger, and pops it in his mouth. “Don’t know if you remember or not, but I used to smoke. Mostly weed. I quit. Gum seems to help keep the cravings down.”
“Good for you. It’s better for your health,” I reply not knowing where he’s going but following his lead.
“Possibly.” He eyes me, taking me all in. “You look good.”
“Thank you,” I reply, all polite. He grins.
“Heard you don’t remember shit.”
“Yep,” I respond, popping the “p” at the end. Fallon’s grin turns into a deep laugh.
“Fallon.”
“Elizabeth.”
“Ah, so you can say my actual name.”
He laughs even harder, seeming to enjoy our banter. I give up. This guy is nuts. I wind up smiling at him while trying to strangle my responding chuckle. He slides his back down the trunk of the tree and sits, legs outstretched, like we’re here to shoot the shit with one another, all the time in the world.
“You seem to know my story,” I say. “I take it we were friends or something?”
“Not quite,” he replies.
“So what were we then?”
