Campus Heartthrob (The Campus Series Book 2) Read online

  Carson.

  False alarm. If there’s anyone I trust with my sister, it’s him. The guy is like family. He hung out at my house while we were growing up more than he did at his own. Carson is an only child, and his parents work a shit ton of hours. I always got the feeling that he was lonely. Mom would joke that he was her unofficial third child. Elle is more like a sister to him than anything else.

  “Hey,” I greet, pulling up alongside them and interrupting their conversation.

  They both startle at my unexpected appearance.

  Almost nonchalantly, Carson takes a step away from her before shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Hi. What’s up, man?”

  “Not much,” I mutter, glancing around.

  Now that I realize there’s nothing to be concerned about, thoughts of Sydney rush back in to fill my head. The only positive in this situation is that I haven’t caught sight of Kira. I thought for sure she would be here by now, waiting to pounce. I’m not naive enough to think that my announcement has finally done the trick. There’s no way she’s going to roll over and give up at this point. She’s too invested. “You haven’t seen Sydney around, have you?”

  Carson’s brows slide together. He knows exactly why it’s imperative that I nail down her location. “Nope. Still haven’t been able to get hold of her, huh?”

  I shake my head. “She’s avoiding my calls.”

  “Strange that she would do that,” Carson says with a smirk. “She really seems to enjoy your company.”

  “Who’s Sydney?” my sister cuts in, gaze bouncing between us.

  My attention flickers to her. There’s no way in hell I’m telling Elle about this situation. She’d probably laugh herself silly. And then she’d turn around and tell our mother. Like I need that.

  No, thanks.

  Instead of answering, I pull out my phone and text the blonde for what feels like the dozenth time in the past two hours. Do you think she could bother with a response?

  Of course not. She’d much rather ignore my ass and make me sweat.

  A big smile breaks out across Elle’s face. “Well, well, well.” She turns her attention to Carson as laughter bubbles up in her throat. “It looks like my brother has a crush.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  Before Carson can open his trap—because the last thing I need at the moment is him egging her on—I grumble, “I do not have a crush.”

  Mirth dances in my friend’s eyes. I can almost see the temptation to add kerosene to this particular fire.

  “Does Mom know about this?” Elle asks.

  I’m reminded once again why I prefer not to party with my sister. I don’t need her watching every move I make and reporting back to our parent with her findings.

  When she arches a brow, I roll my eyes. “She’s my partner for a project. It’s nothing more than that.”

  Elle tilts her head. The suspicious look in her eyes says that she’s not buying what I’m attempting to sell. “And you need to talk to her about a class project on a Saturday night while celebrating your win from this afternoon?”

  Fair enough. That sounds lame even to my own ears. Obviously, I should have come up with a more plausible explanation. This one isn’t going to cut it.

  How has this become my life?

  No, I’m serious.

  Taking out a restraining order would have been a hell of a lot easier than all this subterfuge. Clearly, I’m not good at it.

  With a glare, I turn the conversation around on her. “What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you would stay away from the football parties.”

  Not to mention, the football players.

  Make it guys in general and we’ll call it a day.

  Something flickers in her dark eyes before being snuffed out as she lifts a slender shoulder. “Do you remember my friend Madison?”

  Nope. Not at all. I couldn’t pick her out of a lineup that consisted of two girls.

  When I shake my head, she gives an impatient huff. “Anyway, her boyfriend is on the football team. I think his nickname is Sausage.”

  Right.

  The dude’s actual name is Kevin Anders. One of the first practices of his freshman season, he inhaled so many damn sausages for breakfast that he ended up barfing them up all over the turf. Coach Richards just shook his head and ordered him to clean up the mess. It doesn’t matter how many years—or decades—pass, he will never live down that poor decision which is exactly how he earned his nickname.

  If the guy is lucky, Coach will send him onto the field during the last quarter for a snap or two if we’re up by enough points. From what I’ve gathered, he’s not working with a lot of brain cells. And he’s definitely not the type of guy I want hanging around my sister. Then again, I can’t think of any dudes I’d want her spending time with. Luckily, that hasn’t been a problem. If she’s messing around, it’s not in front of my face. And I’ve never caught wind of any gossip making the rounds on campus either.

  “Did you come with friends?” I glance around, wondering how she ended up with Carson.

  She waves a hand toward the kitchen. “They went to get something to drink. They’ll be back soon.”

  Just what I need to deal with—a bunch of underage girls getting drunk off wine spritzers or some equally sugary drink. Cleaning up their puke will be the perfect cap to this disastrous evening.

  I narrow my eyes. “Are they bringing a beverage back for you?”

  Elle meets my stare head on. She isn’t easily intimidated. Not even by me. “Is that a roundabout way of asking if I plan to drink tonight?”

  I give her a tight-lipped smile. “Yup, that’s exactly what I want to know, squirt.”

  When a flash of grief fills her eyes, guilt swiftly slices through me.

  She draws herself up to her full height before saying stiffly, “You know I don’t drink.”

  No, she doesn’t. Not after what happened to our father. Elle doesn’t even like it when Mom has a bottle of wine in the house.

  Fuck. This situation with Kira is making me lose my damn mind. I’m tempted to drag a hand across my face.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, feeling like an asshole.

  An awkward silence falls over the three of us. I’m about to apologize for a second time when a flash of wheat-colored hair catches my attention. Relief instantly floods through me.

  “All right, gotta go.” I take two steps before swinging back around. My gaze locks on Carson as I stab a finger in my sibling’s direction. “Keep an eye on her.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter!” she yells.

  Since I’m not about to get drawn into an argument, I don’t bother with a response. Elle might not think she needs someone to look out for her, but she does. My sister is too damn pretty for her own good. When she showed up on campus freshman year, I had to knock more than a few skulls together before word caught on not to mess with her. I’m happy to report that the guys now steer clear. She’s no longer on their radar and that’s just the way I like it.

  Whatever choice words Elle continues to spew get lost in the raucous noise of the party as I shove my way through the thick crowd in order to reach Sydney. Who knows, maybe she’ll surprise me and help me out of this sticky situation.

  Then again, maybe pigs will fly out of my ass.

  Statistically speaking, the chances of swine taking flight are astronomically higher.

  Chapter Seven

  Sydney

  It’s Saturday night and I’m more than ready to cut loose. I need a drink to help shake off the heaviness of visiting my brother’s grave. It’s like this every time. It’ll take a couple of days to tamp down all of the sadness and grief attempting to break loose beneath the surface. There would probably be less emotional upheaval if I didn’t visit quite so often. But how can I do that?

  The guilt alone would eat me alive. And part of me likes sitting against the smooth surface of his headstone. Sharing my life makes me feel closer to him. For a few minutes, I can
pretend that he’s not really gone. I keep waiting for the pain of his loss to fade, but it’s been four years and that has yet to occur. I’m beginning to doubt it ever will. I think the grief is something I’ll carry around with me forever.

  So, yeah...I need a drink. Pronto. Maybe a couple of them to take the edge off and help me forget.

  Arm in arm, Demi and I stroll up the sidewalk to the football house. As much as I don’t want to be here, my bestie told Rowan that we would make an appearance at some point in the evening. She also assured me that we wouldn’t have to stay long. I plan on holding her to that.

  My phone vibrates in my back pocket for the umpteenth time today. Irritation swiftly bubbles up inside me as I grit my teeth, not bothering to pull out the cell and glance at the screen. There’s no need to. I already know who it is.

  Brayden Kendricks has been blowing up my phone for the last two days.

  What the hell is that guy’s problem?

  Does he think we’re suddenly friends and he can talk to me whenever he likes?

  No, thanks.

  Since he refuses to comprehend what my silence implies, it looks like we’ll need to have a discussion as to what it means when someone ignores your advances. Although, that won’t be happening tonight. I have zero interest in dealing with him at the moment. Not when I’m already feeling emotionally raw.

  He tried to catch me at class the other day, but I slipped out of the room a few minutes early so I could meet up with my advisor to discuss my credit situation. All she did was reconfirm that if I scrap the accounting degree and get out of business all together, it’ll end up tacking on an additional year of classes. There is no way I want to stick around Western for that long. For all intents and purposes, I’m stuck. I keep reassuring myself that it won’t be as bad as I think. I’m actually a whiz at crunching numbers. The question is—how much will I enjoy doing it forty hours a week?

  It’s yet another problem to wash away with a massive glass of alcohol. Just like when it comes to dulling my grief, it’ll be a temporary measure. A flimsy Band-Aid until I can work through everything in my head.

  When my phone buzzes thirty seconds later, Demi asks, “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

  Not a chance in hell.

  “Nope.” I have zero intentions of responding to Brayden’s texts or calls. This is exactly why I was reluctant to give him my digits in the first place. If he thinks he can wear me down and we’ll hook up, he couldn’t be more wrong.

  “What if it’s important?”

  “It’s not.”

  With a curious expression marring her brow, she shrugs and drops the subject.

  It’s oh so tempting to block his ass. The thought brings a smile to my face. That would serve him right for making such a nuisance of himself. Maybe some girls—all right, most girls—clamor for his attention, but I’m not one of them. Not after what happened freshman year. As soon as that thought pops into my head, I shove it away. It’s just another thing I refuse to dwell on.

  After climbing five steps onto a rickety front porch, we wait to be admitted inside. The freshman football player who is supposed to be manning the door is making out hot and heavy with a girl. His tongue is shoved so far down her throat that I’m pretty sure he’s touching her tonsils.

  I clear my throat, hoping they’ll splinter apart, but that doesn’t occur. If anything, the sucking action becomes more voracious. I’m almost impressed with his hoovering skills. But also slightly repulsed. It’s doubtful there’s a drop of spit in that girl’s mouth.

  Eww.

  Demi gives me a little side-eye. “Maybe we should just walk in?”

  “Probably.” We slip inside while their mouths are still fastened. “I think Rowan needs to find someone a little more dedicated to his job.”

  Demi snorts. “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

  We don’t get more than four steps inside the packed first floor when someone wraps their arms around Demi. That someone—in case you’re wondering—is Rowan. A smile springs to her lips as he moves in for a kiss.

  And that would be my cue to leave.

  You would never know it from Demi’s behavior that there was a time in the not-so-distant past when she couldn’t stand to be in the same room with Rowan. It’s almost amazing how much has changed in such a short span of time.

  “I’m going to grab a much-needed drink,” I shout, attempting to be heard over the pulsing beat of music. “You want anything?”

  It’s not a surprise when Demi shakes her head. She’s never been much of a drinker. With a shrug, I take off through the mass of students packed in here like sardines. Is it too much to hope that we only have to stay for thirty minutes before taking off? I’m sure there are a ton of other parties happening around campus. I’d rather be anywhere but here. Plus, I’m actively trying to avoid Brayden, and that’s difficult to do at his own house.

  At this point, it’s become a game.

  Let’s see how long it takes for him to track me down. Fingers crossed he’ll grow bored and move onto easier prey.

  I pass by the congested living room on my way to the kitchen. I wave and say hello to a couple of people I recognize. A handful of my teammates have shown up to help celebrate the victory on the turf this afternoon. They don’t care which Wildcat team won, they’re just happy to toss back a few drinks and get their party on. And then there are two girls I recognize from my classes. I’ve been here enough times to know that a makeshift bar will be set up at the back of the house, stocked with cheap liquor. I’m looking forward to an icy cold drink. Normally, when I’m out, I’ll have a beer or two, but tonight calls for something more potent.

  We’re talking shots.

  After five minutes of fighting my way through the unwashed masses, I’ve almost reached my destination. Just as the brightly shining beacon that is the keg comes into sight, a girl with long, tawny-colored hair steps in front of me, effectively blocking my way. Since there are so many people crammed in the space, I don’t think much of it. As I try to sidestep her, she quickly shadows the motion so I can’t move past. When I slide in the opposite direction, she follows suit. That’s when I realize that this chick is deliberately messing with me.

  What the hell?

  I give her a quick once over. Other than looking vaguely familiar, I have no idea who she is. What I do know is that she’d better move her carcass before I lose my shit. I’m not in the mood to mess around.

  Not tonight.

  “Excuse me,” I raise my voice over the pumping music, “I’m trying to get through.”

  “Is your name Sydney?”

  “Yeah.” With a frown, I search her face more carefully. That’s when recognition hits. This girl is in one of my classes. Coincidentally, it’s the same one I have with Brayden. Accounting. I’ve never spoken to her before, but I’ve noticed the way she hangs all over him. It would be hard not to. She’d probably crawl into his lap and burrow there if he allowed her to do it. Her behavior has always struck me as needy and clingy. Although, Brayden is such an attention whore, I’m sure he gets off on it.

  Eww. I just vomited in my mouth. The last thing I want to think about is what Brayden gets off on. I shift my stance, willing away the horrific image.

  Before I can ask any further questions, she says, “I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes.”

  Talk? About what? I don’t even know this girl.

  “You want to speak with me?” With a frown, I press a hand to my chest as the party continues to rage on around us. “Why?”

  Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips as she sidles closer. “I wanted to discuss the Brayden situation with you.”

  The Brayden situation?

  What is she talking about?

  More strangely than that...how am I involved in it?

  Is this chick drunk? Maybe high?

  I tilt my head and scrutinize her pupils. I’m not a medical professional, but they certainly don’t look dilated, and she do
esn’t smell like a brewery. I do a careful sniff test. There’s no skunky scent permeating from her either.

  Well, I’m stumped.

  “Just to be clear, there is no,” I use my fingers to make air quotes, “Brayden situation. Honestly, I’m not even sure why you’d want to discuss the guy with me.”

  A hopeful glint enters her eyes as she steps even closer, invading more of my space. “Wait a minute—aren’t you dating Brayden Kendricks?”

  A bark of laughter explodes from my lips. As I open my mouth to tell her that I am most certainly not dating the dark-haired football player—that I would never date him—firm lips collide with mine, cutting off any further protest.

  Chapter Eight

  Brayden

  Every muscle in Sydney’s body goes rigid as my mouth crashes onto hers. One arm snakes around her waist as I haul her close. Her eyes widen before narrowing when she realizes who has a firm hold on her.

  That would be when her struggles begin in earnest.

  I almost shake my head at my own stupidity. This girl is going to fight me tooth and nail.

  Undeterred by her response, I sweep my tongue across the seam of her lips. When she presses them together, I pull away enough to whisper, “Open for me.”

  “Are you insane?” she snarls in response.

  Bingo.

  The moment she snaps at me, I take the opportunity to delve inside.

  Am I taking my own life into my hands?

  You bet your damn ass I am. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

  My tongue sweeps inside to tangle with her own. This is where I need to be cautious. A quick retreat might become necessary. I wouldn’t put it past Sydney to bite me.

  Hard.

  I give Kira a little side-eye, hoping this affectionate display will be enough to satisfy her curiosity and that it won’t become necessary to take this charade any further. The entire issue can be laid to rest, and we can all move on with our lives.