Campus Heartthrob (The Campus Series Book 2) Page 2

  A quick scan of the room as I beeline to the staircase solidifies that Carson wasn’t yanking my chain. Kira is nowhere to be seen.

  Carson is right about one thing—I need to do something about this situation before it spirals any further out of control. I refuse to spend the rest of senior year looking over my shoulder and avoiding my own house. I need that chick to understand that we are never getting together. At this point, there’s no way we can even be friends.

  “Kendricks, where you going?” Crosby Rhodes shouts from his sprawled-out position in an armchair.

  I flick my gaze at him. Like most of the other guys, he’s surrounded by a handful of females. Being on the football team will get you all the chicks you could ask for. Having a lip ring and a sullen attitude will get you twice as many.

  Go figure.

  “Got a test to study for,” I call back, trudging up the steps.

  “Come on, Kendricks, let me kick your ass in a little GTA,” Easton adds from the couch he’s stretched out on.

  It’s a tempting offer, but still...

  “If memory serves, aren’t I the one who kicked yours the last time we played?” I shoot back.

  Easton smirks before shoving his chestnut-colored hair out of his bright blue eyes. If I’m not mistaken, a few girls in the room sigh. “Maybe. How about a rematch, then?”

  “Sorry, not tonight.”

  It might not seem like it, but I’ve never been a slouch in the partying department. Freshman year is nothing more than a blur. I spent most of it shitfaced, attempting to drown the grief that had been my constant companion.

  Big surprise—it didn’t work.

  What did end up happening is that I almost flunked out of college and got my ass kicked off the football team. Coach Richards pulled me aside at the end of the season and told me that I had a choice to make—either pull myself together or get the hell out of his program.

  I could do one or the other, but not both.

  That conversation had been a rude awakening, and it had been exactly what I needed to hear. The year before, I’d lost one of the most important people in my life. Losing football on top of it wasn’t a choice I was willing to make. I returned home and dried out over the summer. I focused on working out in the gym and getting stronger so I could prove to Coach that he hadn’t made a mistake in recruiting me. When I returned to Western for my sophomore year, I swapped out the alcohol for pussy. I guess if you can’t drown your sorrows in beer, girls are a close second. Except...it doesn’t actually solve anything or make your problems disappear. You just run the risk of an STI.

  “Lame ass,” Easton shouts after me.

  Knowing that I don’t have anything to prove, the taunt slides easily off my back. My accomplishments and the records I’ve broken over the years speak for themselves. “Yup.”

  As I disappear onto the second floor, I swing right and pass by two doors before arriving at mine. Now that Kira is no longer a concern, my mind gravitates to the exam I need to cram for. I grab hold of the handle and push open the thick wood before crossing over the threshold. I probably have three solid hours of work ahead of me. After doing my damnedest to flunk out freshman year, it’s taken a lot of focus and determination to raise my GPA. The fact that, two years later, it’s over a three point zero is a source of pride for me.

  I’m jerked out of those thoughts by a noise as my gaze cuts to the queen-sized bed at the far end of the room.

  And the naked girl lying on top of it.

  “Hey, Brayden,” Kira coos, shifting on the comforter as she spreads her legs wide. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Well, hell.

  Chapter Two

  Sydney

  “Are you absolutely sure that you can’t squeeze me in?” I plead, phone shoved against my ear as I search the Union for my bestie. It’s noon and the place is packed with hungry students making a pitstop.

  “Sorry, sweetie. If you had gotten ahold of me a few days earlier, I might have been able to slide you in, but someone else beat you to it and booked the last of my free time. I just can’t do it,” Marco finishes.

  Damn.

  Damn.

  Damn.

  “No worries,” I say with forced lightness before spotting Demi and Rowan camped out at a table in the corner. “I’m sure I’ll find someone else.”

  Hopefully.

  “I really am sorry, Syd. You know how much I love working with you.”

  Marco has modeled for me several times throughout the years, and he’s the absolute best. We usually end up laughing and joking around the entire time.

  Even though he can’t see me do it, I wave a hand. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’ll find another model. I’ve got time.”

  Sort of.

  “Okay, girl. Talk soon.”

  “Yup.” I hit disconnect and drop onto the bench opposite them.

  Demi and Rowan have turned into one of those couples who sit on the same side of the table, even when they’re alone. It’s super barfy. As much as I’d like to roll my eyes, I can’t. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s Demi. Her last boyfriend put her through the wringer. The guy was a real jerk. Not only did she find him in a compromising situation with his pants around his ankles with one of our teammates, Annica—what a bitch—but he then proceeded to spread around campus that she was the one cheating on him.

  The only good to come out of that situation is that Rowan was finally able to win Demi over. And the rest is relationship history.

  As much as I hate to admit it, I’m a little jelly of what they have. My last relationship was a veritable roller-coaster of emotions. High-highs and low-lows. It was a constant whirlwind of breakups and makeups before we finally pulled the plug and decided to go our separate ways. I can’t say that the making up part wasn’t a blast, but the constant bickering was exhausting. What I learned from that epic fail is that sometimes it’s just not possible to make a relationship work—no matter how much you both want it. Ethan was a great guy, but we weren’t meant for the long haul.

  The second thing I discovered?

  That I need to take a legit hiatus from men.

  Ethan wasn’t my first break up. I’ve had a long string of ill-fated relationships. I have a nasty habit of extracting myself from one disastrous situation only to dive headfirst into another. After the latest debacle, I’m taking a little time to get to know myself and figure out what I really want.

  And you know what?

  It’s kind of nice.

  All right, the lack of sex isn’t great. But other than that, I’m happy.

  Fine, if not entirely happy, then at least content.

  We’ll just go with that.

  Anything less and I would be venturing into pathetic territory, and I’m unwilling to go there. I don’t need a man to be satisfied, and that’s what I’m set on proving to myself once and for all. I’m perfectly content on my own.

  Except when I’m around these two lovebirds. And all their obnoxious canoodling.

  They’re seriously too cute for words.

  It makes me want to puke. Or cry into a pint of Cherry Garcia.

  Rowan whispers something in Demi’s ear and a light blush blooms in her cheeks. I can just imagine what he’s saying. Or promising.

  Ugh.

  See what I have to deal with?

  I’d be better off eating lunch by myself.

  “All right, you two,” I grumble, “break it up before I have to get out the hose.” And contrary to popular belief, I will, indeed, hose these two off. Their sexual chemistry is enough to induce immaculate conception.

  Demi straightens before shoving Rowan back a couple of inches. Although, let’s face it, he’s not going far. The guy is completely enamored by her. I suspect it’s been that way for years. There was once a time when Demi professed to hate her father’s star quarterback and did everything in her power to avoid him. I had no idea how Rowan did it, but he managed to break through all her barriers, and now they’re Wes
tern’s most swoonworthy couple.

  “Hey,” Demi greets. There’s a breathless quality to her voice. “What’s up?” She does her best to blink the sexual haze from her eyes before inspecting me with more care. “That’s a whole lot of unhappiness going on there,” she says, pointing to the general vicinity of my face.

  “It’s nothing.” I shrug and attempt to downplay the desperateness flooding through me. I’m practically drowning in it. “I need to find a male model for an art class project. Unfortunately for me, all of the usual suspects have been snapped up.” My voice drops as I reluctantly admit, “I should have done this weeks ago, but I was so bogged down with my accounting course. I’ve made a few calls, but everyone is booked up tight.”

  “No worries, Syd. I’ll model for you,” Rowan offers. “How hard can it be to strike a pose?” Looking robotic, he makes a few gestures with his hands.

  A genuine smile lifts my lips.

  Have I mentioned how much I adore Rowan?

  The first-string QB is a real sweetheart. If he and Demi weren’t so stinking cute together, I’d make a play for him myself. But the guy only has eyes for my bestie. Amusingly enough, everyone else could see that but her.

  I glance at my roommate before smirking at him. “Why thank you, Rowan. That would be incredibly helpful. You’re cool with modeling in the buff, right?”

  He blinks, blue eyes widening before he gives his girlfriend a bit of side-eye. Her lips tremble around the edges.

  “Umm...like, naked?” he asks, shifting uncomfortably on the bench.

  “Yup, we’re talking full-on nudity. And you’ll have to pose for at least a couple of hours so I can draw every inch of you.”

  “Oh.” There’s a pause as ruddy color rushes into his cheeks. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I’m gonna have to retract my offer. There’s only one girl who gets to see the goods.”

  A gurgle of laughter escapes from me as Demi presses a kiss against his cheek.

  “You’re so adorable when you’re embarrassed,” she chuckles.

  She might be laughing, but it’s doubtful she’d be cool with her hot boyfriend posing naked for me. Even if it is for a school art project.

  Just as my phone lights up with an incoming call, a hard body slides into the booth next to me. I pounce on my cell, shooting a glance at the guy now invading my personal space as his hip bumps into mine.

  “Hello?” My gaze becomes ensnared by Brayden’s dark one as I answer the call. He’s way too close for comfort. I blink and attempt to focus on the conversation. It turns out to be another model who isn’t able to sit for me.

  Crap.

  This is turning out to be more problematic than I assumed. I should have realized all the good ones would get snapped up. Honestly, I only meant to put it off for a week or two until a bigger chunk of my accounting project was completed and I could turn my attention to art. Except the class consumed more time than I thought, and now that I’m ready to get to work, everyone I normally partner with is otherwise engaged.

  Where are the procrastinators when you need them?

  Apparently, I’m the only one.

  When Brayden’s gaze takes a leisurely stroll of my body, I shoot him a dirty look before refocusing my attention on the call.

  “Are you sure?” I wheedle. “I promise it’ll only take four hours of your time. Five, at the most. You know how quickly I work.”

  From the corner of my eye, I watch as Brayden shifts toward me. The guy doesn’t even attempt to disguise the fact that he’s listening intently to my private conversation. I can practically feel the burn of his gaze. As much as I try to stifle it, a sizzle of awareness slides through me. It starts in my fingertips before gradually working its way through my body until it reaches my toes. My entire being feels electrified by his perusal. I lock my jaw and steel myself against the unwanted sensations coursing through me.

  If there’s one guy on this campus that I refuse to be attracted to, it’s Brayden Kendricks. Unfortunately, someone needs to give that memo to my hormones. Anytime I’m around the guy, my body goes haywire. It takes effort to stomp out the flames attempting to ignite in my core.

  Barely do I hear the model on the other end of the phone explain that he’s already working with two other art students and can’t possibly take on anything more with his schedule. If I thought that pleading would change his mind, I would happily do it. I’m not above groveling.

  It’s a little disconcerting when I realize that I’m once again staring at Brayden. And that he’s wearing his usual smirk. The one that makes me gnash my teeth every single time he flashes it my way.

  I force my gaze from the dark-haired football player and concentrate on the conversation at hand. “No problem, I understand. Just,” I bite my lip before lowering my voice, “let me know if anything changes with your schedule. I’m kind of desperate here.”

  That’s the third model I’ve struck out with. As I hit disconnect, a disheartened breath escapes from my lips.

  When Brayden’s knee bumps into mine, another unwanted sizzle of awareness shoots through me. “What was that about?”

  My gaze flickers in his direction before skittering away. I find it easier to hold a conversation with the guy if I don’t have to stare at him for too long. He’s not just good looking, he’s stupid pretty. We’re talking chiseled cheekbones. Long, Romanesque nose. Broody mouth. Dark eyes that feel like they can see straight down to your very soul. Perfectly tousled hair that begs female fingers to tunnel through it.

  And I haven’t even mentioned his body. He’s like a Greek god carved from marble. The artist in me would delight in sketching him. Especially in the nude. Can you even imagine his sinewy musculature?

  It’s for that very reason I refuse to go there.

  Plus, he irritates the crap out of me.

  “Nothing,” I mutter, wanting to shut down any further conversation. Had I realized Brayden would be gracing us with his presence, I would have politely declined the invitation and grabbed something to go. I refuse to spend any more time with him than absolutely necessary. It’s bad enough that we’re stuck together in a class and somehow got partnered up for our accounting project. Do you have any idea what that’s been like?

  In a word—aggravating.

  Plus, with Demi dating one of his roommates, we’re thrown together even more often than before. Avoidance has become almost impossible.

  Sure, he’s charming as hell. I’ve watched him in action for the past three years. My conclusions on the subject are that he’s nothing more than a fuck boy, and I have zero interest in getting caught up in that.

  “Syd needs a model for her art project,” Rowan pipes up rather unhelpfully when I remain silent.

  I narrow my eyes and shoot him an icy glare. He’s well aware of my feelings for his friend and teammate. One side of his mouth hitches in response as he shrugs.

  Forget what I said earlier about Rowan being a sweetheart. He’s the furthest thing from it.

  “Really?” Brayden says with interest.

  “Naked,” Rowan adds.

  “Well, I have to admit you had me at model.” There’s a pause as he slides closer until all of the distance between us is swallowed up, and he fills my entire line of sight. “Throw in naked and I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

  Air gets clogged in my throat when I realize that I’ve become trapped in his predatory stare. Liquid heat pools in my core. It takes effort to tamp down my body’s natural reaction as my palms flatten against the solid strength of his chest and I push him away.

  “No thanks.” I make sure to add the right amount of contempt to my response. There’s no way in hell I want Brayden to suspect that he can turn me on so easily. We’re talking the flick of a switch. Before I could blink, he’d find a way to use that weakness against me. And I know exactly how he would do it. Even the thought is enough to make me break into a cold sweat.

  “You’re not interested in drawing all this?” He does his best impersonation of Va
nna White while waving a hand down his body.

  “Nope.” Yes! A hundred percent. He’s gorgeous. The guy didn’t win Campus Heartthrob three straight years in a row for his uncanny likeness to the Hunchback of Notre-Dame.

  He shrugs. “Your loss.”

  Probably.

  “Hardly,” I respond in a haughty tone.

  “If you can’t get one of your models to do it, why not get your boyfriend?” Brayden asks, settling against the seat. He stretches out until his arm can drape across the back of the wooden bench we’re squeezed into. “Voilà. Problem solved.”

  Even though his fingers are gentle and barely rest against my skin, I feel his touch down to my bones. It’s impossible to ignore. Every bit of my attention becomes centered on it.

  Why?

  Why him?

  Why does my body react to him like this?

  It’s as irritating as it is disturbing.

  Demi’s brows beetle together as she opens her mouth.

  “Ethan is busy with baseball,” I blurt before she can set him straight. “He’s not able to do it.”

  “Hmm.” His gaze stays fixated on mine. It’s as if everything around us ceases to exist. I feel trapped in place, like a butterfly pinned to a Styrofoam board. All of the oxygen gets sucked from the atmosphere, making it impossible to breathe. His voice dips, turning raspy. “If you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let some dude model naked for you. I’d be the only guy you were catching an eyeful of.”

  “Then it’s lucky for me that I’m not your girlfriend, isn’t it?” Where that comment comes from, I have no idea, but I’m thankful for it. Verbally sparring with Brayden comes second nature to me. I’ve had a ton of practice over the years.

  The humor filling his eyes drains away, leaving a steely glint in its place as we continue to stare. Just when it becomes almost too much to withstand, I force my gaze to Demi. Once my attention is focused elsewhere, the air rushes from my lungs in a burst.