Campus Heartthrob (The Campus Series Book 2) Page 4

  I share everything going on with the family and then in my own life. There’s a natural ebb and flow to my voice. Sometimes I’ll lapse into silence before picking up the thread of my previous conversation.

  I tell him about soccer, knowing he would take pride in my accomplishments. Peter died before he could graduate from college. It’s disconcerting to realize that I’m now the same age as him when he passed away.

  Instead of dwelling on that uncomfortable thought, I fill him in on my classes. He’s the only one I’ve told about my growing fears that accounting isn’t the right career for me. Every day that passes, more doubts mushroom up until it feels like I’m being suffocated by them. Most of the time, I’m able to shove the uncertainties aside and ignore them.

  I’ve always had a good head for math. It comes easy to me. And accounting is the same way. Even though I excel in my classes, I don’t particularly find pleasure in them. By the time I realized this, it seemed too late to backtrack and major in something else. If I want to graduate on time, then I need to stay the course. At this point, I’m hoping that I’m wrong and once I start working, everything will fall into place. The prospect of ending up in a career that I hate for the rest of my life is a scary one.

  Once I get all my fears off my chest, the tension knotted in my shoulders loosens and I can finally relax. My eyes close as bright sunlight pours down, warming my skin.

  Sitting against my brother’s gravestone in the cemetery on such a gorgeous autumn afternoon feels wrong. The days I visit should be dark and gloomy, overcast with the threat of severe storms. Sometimes, I search through the upcoming forecast, trying to seek out the most miserable day.

  It’s like a cosmic joke. No matter what I choose, it turns out to be gorgeous. Always sunny. Even in the dead of winter when everything should look bleak and desolate, the sun will throb in the blue sky and the untouched snow will look like it’s sparkling with diamonds. There are times when the tree branches ice over and shimmer in the light. It’s resentfully that I’ll admit how magical they look.

  Nothing in a cemetery should be beautiful.

  Even though Peter has been gone for a while, it’s still strange that life carried on without him. Wasn’t the world supposed to grind to a halt on its axis? Didn’t people realize that a vital part of our family had been cut off and removed?

  Maybe we managed to pick up the shattered pieces and stumble on without him, but, in a way, we’re just like Humpty Dumpty. None of us will ever be put back together again. How is it possible to not fall completely apart when someone is ripped from your lives?

  Peter’s death rocked the very foundation of our family. There were times when I didn’t think I could bear the loss. And my parents...

  They were steeped so deeply in grief that it was difficult to witness. There is nothing worse than watching your mother and father—the very same people who are pillars of strength—sob like babies. There were times when I couldn’t remember what Mom’s face looked like without a constant river of tears flowing down her pale cheeks. Dad retreated quietly into his work. For the first couple of months, it almost seemed like we would splinter apart. Mom was the first to pull herself together before forcing Dad into counseling along with the four of us.

  As painful as therapy was, I’m not sure we would have survived the ocean of grief that surrounded us without it. It’s all too easy to feel like you’re alone and drowning in the darkness.

  Even though coming to the cemetery is a lot like picking at a healing scab and making the wound bleed all over again, there isn’t a choice in the matter. I refuse to forget about Peter. And talking to him, telling him about all the family gossip makes me feel like he’s still here, listening to every word. I can almost imagine his responses, and they make me laugh.

  And that’s exactly how I want to remember him.

  Laughing and full of life.

  Chapter Five

  Brayden

  Harsh breath escapes from my lungs in a rush as I push open the front door and walk inside the house I share off-campus with four other guys. Almost immediately, voices assault my ears. There’s nothing uncommon about that. It would be strange if they didn’t. Five signatures might be on the rental agreement—Rowan, Carson, Asher, Easton, and yours truly—but at any given time, there’s at least a dozen people hanging out. Sometimes guys from the team crash at our place if they need to get away from the dorms or their roommates. There’s also usually a handful of die-hard groupies, looking for any lap to settle on.

  I’ll fully admit that I took advantage of the pussy situation freshman year and delved straight in, sleeping with as many girls as possible. When you’re an eighteen-year-old guy and all these females are hanging on you, spreading their legs without the least bit of encouragement, it’s hard to say no.

  Even after I stopped drinking, the girls remained a constant. But last year, something began to change, and I curtailed all the fucking around. That doesn’t mean I stopped dipping my wick completely, but it no longer held the same appeal as it once did. Now, I’m more discriminating. Plus, a dozen or so guys on the team tested positive for chlamydia because they all bang the same groupies. As much as I enjoy screwing, it’s not worth an STI. Not even a curable one.

  “Hey Kendricks, take over for me,” Carson calls out, eyes laser focused on the game he’s playing. “I gotta take this call.”

  I shake my head and point to the guy across from him. “Give it to Asher. I’m sweaty from my run.”

  Carson’s gaze flickers to one of our roommates before he scowls. “No way, he’s shit at this game, and he’s totally baked.”

  Asher grins. He can barely crack open his eyes. The guy could easily be blindfolded with dental floss. “He’s right, dude. I am sooo baked.”

  I shake my head. “Fine.”

  As soon as I step into the living room, I notice Kira tucked around the corner on the couch.

  Goddamn it.

  I shoot Carson a scowl. The motherfucker could have warned me that she was here, lying in wait. I would have avoided coming home at all costs. That’s when I remember that I didn’t take my phone on my five-mile run.

  This girl is the last person I want to deal with. The plan was to hit the showers and delve straight into homework. I’m trying to nudge my GPA up as much as I can before graduation. With six semesters under my belt, I’ve got my work cut out for me.

  I force myself into the living room. As soon as I’m close enough, Carson passes off the controller. I drop onto an empty couch cushion and focus on the screen. Maybe if I ignore her long enough, she’ll give up and leave me alone. After I kicked her ass out of my bed the other night, I’m hoping she finally got the hint that I’m not interested in what she’s offering up.

  I almost snort, knowing that it’s an unlikely scenario.

  Even though my attention is fastened to the television, I notice her rise from the corner of my eye. A second later, she settles next to me. When her slender hand brushes against my thigh, I know I’m in trouble. I also realize that I need to do something drastic, otherwise this will never end.

  But what?

  What the hell am I supposed to do?

  This chick refuses to take no for an answer.

  “Hi, Brayden.”

  It’s tempting to ignore her. Although, it’s not in my nature to be a dick. But maybe that’s what I need to do. I’m running out of options, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

  “Hey,” I say in a clipped tone. Hopefully, my whole I’m not interested in talking to you vibe is coming across loud and clear.

  When I don’t keep the conversational ball rolling, she clears her throat and makes a second attempt. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

  “I’m kind of in the middle of something,” I mumble.

  Persistence is an attractive quality in the opposite sex, but not to this degree.

  Hasn’t she ever heard that no means no?

  “How about after?”

  My low
er jaw locks. “I’ve got to take a shower and hit the books. I don’t have time tonight.”

  Her slender shoulders collapse as she rakes her teeth across her lower lip. A wounded look enters her eyes.

  Fuck.

  I just want to get out of here.

  Hell, I’d leave the damn house if there were someplace else to go. Maybe I should gather up my books and hit the library for a while. Best case scenario, she’ll take off when I don’t return. Worse case, I’ll find her waiting naked in my bed again.

  Where the hell is Carson?

  Seriously, who the hell is he talking to on the phone? Who would call that guy?

  He needs to get his ass back in here so I can leave.

  The moment my blond teammate steps into the living room, I jerk to my feet and pass off the controller. I make it three steps before slender fingers lock around my bicep, halting me in my tracks.

  “Please, Brayden?” Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. “I just want to talk for a few minutes.”

  Air escapes from my lungs in a slow hiss as I plow my hand through my hair. I’m so damn tempted to shake her off. Instead, I keep all of my frustration bottled up inside.

  “Kira,” I say patiently, “we’ve been through this before and nothing has changed.”

  Her blue eyes turn glassy as wetness fills them. The tears somehow manage to simultaneously piss me off and make me feel like a grade A asshole. I have a sister who is two years younger than I am and a sophomore at Western. I’d beat the piss out of any jerk who caused her a moment of heartache. That being said, I hope she would have enough self-respect not to throw herself at a guy who has made it perfectly clear that he’s not interested.

  “Why don’t you want me? Aren’t I pretty enough for you? Smart enough? What is it? What do I have to do so that you’ll give me a chance?” Not only does desperation fill her eyes, it wafts around her like a stink. “Just tell me what I have to do. I’ve been in love with you since freshman year.”

  Fucking hell.

  How am I supposed to answer that?

  “You don’t love me,” I mutter as heat stings my cheeks. I glance at the guys sitting around in the living room. Carson and Easton are smirking. Crosby is doing his damnedest to hold back his laughter. “You don’t even know me.” Not really. The guy she wants to be with is Brayden Kendricks, wide receiver for the Western Wildcats. The football player who will most likely get drafted by the NFL this spring.

  All Kira sees is a handsome and popular façade. This girl doesn’t know the first thing about me. We’ve talked a handful of times and they’ve all been surface-level conversations. It’s ridiculous that she would even think she has such strong feelings for me.

  I shift my weight, wishing that she wasn’t so intent on forcing this uncomfortable discussion. Especially in front of a roomful of teammates. I’ll never live this down.

  “If you gave me a chance,” she steps closer, her fingers squeezing my arm, “I could make you happy.”

  My heartbeat picks up speed. This girl is really starting to freak me out. I’ve jokingly thought about taking out a restraining order. I might actually have to go through with it.

  “Yo Kendricks, maybe you should give her a chance,” Asher calls out. “She seems like a real sweetheart.”

  I shoot him a scowl. Of all the fucking times for him to wake up and take part in the conversation, it would have to be now.

  It feels like a thousand-pound weight has settled on my chest and the walls are closing in on me. I have no idea where the words come from, but they’re shooting out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  “I’m already dating someone,” I blurt.

  “What?” She straightens to her full height, which is still a good eight inches shorter than I am. “You’re going out with another girl?” Before I can respond—with what, I have no idea—she fires off another question. “When did this happen and why didn’t I know about it?” Her eyes narrow to slits. “I haven’t seen you with anyone lately.”

  It’s like she can smell my deceit a mile away. Maybe this was a mistake.

  No, this is my only chance to break free. No matter what happens, I need to stick to the lie.

  “Well,” I improvise, “we’ve been, you know, keeping it on the downlow. We didn’t want to go public until everything was for sure.” I need this girl to swallow this down—hook, line, and sinker. What I don’t need is for her to fire off more questions that I don’t have answers to. “So,” slowly I inch away from her, “as you can see, there’s no—”

  “Who?” Her hand falls away from my arm before her fist settles on her cocked hip.

  “Who?” I echo, gaze darting away.

  Whose name can I pull out of my ass?

  This whole lying thing is more difficult than it appears. Sweat breaks out across my brow as my mind goes blank.

  “Yeah,” her voice escalates, “I want to know who this girl is.”

  Most of the guys in the other room turn and stare. They’re all ears. You think one of these assholes could jump in and help save me from myself?

  Nope. Not a damn one.

  “Does it really matter? The point here is that I’m in a committed relationship and couldn’t be happier.”

  “Actually, it does. I want to know her name.” The way she tilts her head while eyeing me up reminds me of one of those sly raptors from the dinosaur movies. Kind of scary. “Is there a reason you don’t want to tell me?”

  No, crazy pants. No reason at all.

  It’s all together possible that I’ve made a tactical error in judgment. I’ve got two choices here—I either abandon this sinking ship and admit that I made the whole thing up or I rally and put on a convincing show, so she’ll leave me alone once and for all.

  Hey, it worked for Sydney. She pretended to be dating her ex-boyfriend for a damn month and I was never the wiser.

  Sydney.

  “Sydney Daniels,” I blurt.

  “Sydney Daniels?” The corners of her lips sink into a frown as she silently racks her brain.

  That was probably the last name I should have thrown out. “Yup.”

  Just when I think she might drop the subject and leave me alone, she snaps, “Wait a minute, isn’t that the soccer player from our accounting class?”

  “Yeah,” I admit weakly, “that’s her.”

  “Hmm.” She shifts her stance and taps her pointer finger against her lips. “Looks like I’ll be having a little chat with her for stealing my man.”

  Oh...fuck. Well, that’s not good.

  I scrunch my face and shake my head. “I don’t think that’s necessary, do you?”

  “It’s completely necessary,” she growls. The tears have dried up as anger dances across her features.

  Why the hell did I let Sydney’s name slip out?

  Any other girl on this campus would have been thrilled to be my pretend girlfriend.

  Sydney, on the other hand?

  She’d rather gnaw off her own arm to get away from me. Make that both arms.

  This situation has disaster written all over it. And I have no one to blame but myself.

  Chapter Six

  Brayden

  For the umpteenth time, I glance around the crowded party, searching for Sydney’s blonde head. Why isn’t she responding to my texts or calls?

  I need to find her before Kira does. What irritates me most is that you know damn well that girl will be all over Sydney in order to verify the information. Like she can’t just take my word for it.

  Like I’m some kind of liar who makes shit up.

  Well...maybe in this case.

  My first mistake was trying to pull off this lie. The second was dragging a chick who hates me into this mess. Instead of enjoying the party, my head is on a constant swivel. I have no idea if she’ll go along with the tiny fib I’ve told. Although, if I were a betting man, I’d say probably not.

  If Kira discovers that I lied, it will be game over and I’ll never shake her loose. Th
at thought is enough to send icy tendrils of panic scampering down my spine. There’s no way I can put up with eight more months of her stalker-like tendencies. I’ll have to move home just to get away from her.

  What a fucking mess.

  From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of long blonde hair and my head whips in that direction. I’m about to take off like a man on a mission when the girl turns toward me, and I realize that it’s not Sydney.

  Damn!

  Everything inside me deflates.

  Twenty more minutes drag by without a sighting. I’ve taken up sentinel near the entryway so I can keep an eye on the door. My gaze is coasting over the crowd for the millionth time when it skims over a dark head.

  Wait a minute.

  My attention resettles on the girl in question.

  What the hell is Elle doing here?

  All thoughts of Sydney disappear from my head as I shove my way toward my sister.

  When she was a senior in high school, she applied at several state universities, but I encouraged her to attend Western. How else could I keep an eye on her?

  Most of the guys around here understand that she’s completely off-limits. And if they don’t, I’m more than happy to help them come to that realization.

  With my fists.

  I crane my neck, attempting to catch sight of who she’s talking and laughing with. More than likely, it’s one of the girls from her dorm floor. She’s made a few good friends and they usually travel in a pack, which is smart. A lone female makes for an easy target at one of these parties.

  Her head is bent close to whoever she’s speaking with. I push a few people out of my way until I’m able to catch sight of a broad shoulder and muscular arm.

  Yeah...that’s not going to happen. I’ll be breaking up this little love fest before this asshole can get any ideas in his head. Just as I shove another person out of my way, the dude in question comes into view and relief instantly floods through me as my footsteps slow.