“Why Tuesday?”
I shrugged. “I have class.”
She laughed, and I escaped to the bathroom, closing the door and finally letting myself breathe. Stepping in front of the mirror, I stared at myself for a moment before noticing a mark on my neck. I leaned forward. “Is that a freaking hickey?” I touched the spot with my fingertips. It was definitely a hickey. Shit. “Well, at least things can’t get worse.”
Famous last words.
CHAPTER 4
OWEN
Rain poured down,drumming against the awning over classroom 356. I shoved my hands deeper into my hoodie pockets as I shouldered one of the metal pillars holding the roof up, watching the water cascade over the edge.
Harlow had been dodging me for days, leaving me no choice but to lurk outside her classroom like a stalker waiting to have the most uncomfortable conversation of my life.
I sent 12 texts, called 7 times, and even showed up at Jax’s house hoping to catch her, but she wasn’t there.
The classroom door swung open, and I sucked in a breath, straightened my spine, and tried to look like a guy who had his shit together.
A few students trickled out with backpacks slung over their shoulders and earbuds in their ears. Then a few more. A group of girls who were laughing about something, and a guy who looked like he had just woken up from a nap.
Harlow emerged, and my heart did a weird little flutter-squeeze that I ignored because it was Harlow. She was off-limits.
Her long, blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, with strands framing her face. She was wearing tight, dark, ripped jeans, an oversized grey sweatshirt, and white sneakers.
She looked effortlessly beautiful.
She was smiling one of those bright, unguarded smiles that crinkled at the corner of her eyes. The kind of smile that was so contagious, I found myself smiling, and for half a second, I thought it was for me.
It wasn’t.
My stomach dropped as I followed her gaze to the tall guy walking beside her. He was over six feet, with dark hair that looked like it was styled to be messy, and an athletic build, not hockey, because I’d recognize him, but maybe a football player.
Jealousy hit me square in the chest and squeezed until I could barely breathe. I had zero, actually less than zero, rights to feel that way, but it didn’t stop the feeling.
“Harlow.”
Her head snapped up, blue eyes locked on mine. Her smile evaporated. “Owen?” She blinked once before her gaze shifted to Captain Perfect and then back to me, her expression passing through confusion, recognition, and ending in dread. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.” My gaze lifted to the guy, letting every ounce of territorial bullshit I had no business feeling bleed into my stare. Get lost, dick.
He got the message.
“Uh, I’ll, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, giving an awkward laugh. “Catch ya later.”
He didn’t exactly run, but his departure had an abort mission quality to it.
“What do you want, Owen?” Her tone could’ve frozen the rain mid-fall.
“Like I said,” I stepped into her personal space. “We need to talk, and you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Gosh, I wonder why.” She turned on her heel, ponytail swaying, but I caught her arm, stopping her.
I pulled her close, lowering my voice. “We need to talk.” She jerked her arm out of my grasp, and I let her. “Do you want to do it here, in front of everyone, or somewhere more private?”
She glanced around at the handful of students still lingering in small groups under various awnings, waiting out the rain. “Fine,” she sighed, shoulders sinking in defeat. “The third floor of the library is always empty.”
I nodded, gesturing forward. “After you.”
