I’m tempted to swear like a sailor. How is it possible that I feel nothing for the guy I’m actually dating, and yet my pulse skitters out of control for someone I don’t even like? It’s so freaking ironic. It’s been this way since we met, and nothing I do stomps it out. I can try to fool myself into believing it’s not there, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
It’s a relief when Professor Peters takes his place at the podium and clears his throat. Once he’s captured everyone’s attention, he delves headfirst into the probability of dependent and independent events.
Grateful for the excuse to ignore Rowan for the next fifty minutes, I open my textbook and concentrate on the lesson. Just as the blond boy fades into the background, his bare knee bumps into mine. Electricity ricochets through my entire being. I glance at him to see if he’s noticed the strange energy we always seem to generate and find his ocean-colored gaze fastened to mine.
My guess is that he does.
Damnation.
2
Demi
“All right, folks, I think I’ve imparted enough information on you for one morning. I can see that your brains are on the verge of exploding. Please remember that today’s assignment needs to be turned in online by midnight. Late work will be downgraded fifty percent.”
A chorus of grumbles and groans follow that announcement.
Professor Peters lips twitch in amusement. It’s no secret that he doesn’t give a damn whether students pass or fail this course. Statistics is a requirement for all health science degrees. If you don’t understand the material and refuse to seek out help, you’re screwed and doomed to repeat it. Over and over and over again. And Professor P is the only instructor who teaches this specific course.
I’ve heard tales of students having to retake his class three or four times to eke out a passing grade. That would be seriously soul-sucking. Luckily, I’ve always been advanced in mathematics and took statistics in high school. So far, we’re a couple of weeks in, and I haven’t found this class to be a challenge. I’ve got an A.
By the time Professor Peters dismisses us for the day, I’ve packed up my belongings and am ready to bolt from the room. I need to escape from Rowan’s presence. I was ridiculously aware of him the entire period.
What makes no sense is that there’s a group of girls in this class who constantly fight for his attention. If the guy is looking to get laid, he needs to explore other options. Instead, he ignores them and sits next to me every day.
It’s maddening.
Without a word, I haul my backpack onto my shoulder and wiggle past him. As I make it to the aisle, a puff of relief escapes from my lungs, and I take the carpeted staircase two at a time. A few people say hello as I fly through the double doors and into the already crowded hallway. The more space I’m able to put between myself and Rowan, the sooner I can find my equilibrium. Rowan Michaels has the nasty habit of throwing it off every single time. I’m unwilling to examine the reason for that.
The guy is totally annoying.
Case closed.
Midway down the corridor, my shoulders loosen from around my ears. The rest of the day should run smoothly from here on out. As soon as that thought pops into my head, a muscular arm is thrown around my shoulders, and I’m hauled against a hard body. A clean fresh scent, which is a strange concoction of sunshine and the ocean, is a dead giveaway as to who has a firm hold on me. It’s one that is purely Rowan Michaels.
Damn.
Damn.
Damn.
This guy will seriously be the death of me. Just like he taunted an hour earlier, I should have realized he wouldn’t let me escape that easily.
“Hey, you took off before I could ask if you needed a ride to dinner.”
A kernel of dread fills my belly and I’m not sure why. It’s not like we’re going out, and we’re certainly not friends. Not really. I can barely tolerate the guy. So, what does it matter if I tell him about Justin joining our threesome tonight?
I wince. That just sounded plain wrong.
I suck my lower lip into my mouth and gnaw on it. Rowan is going to find out sooner or later, so what does it matter if it turns out to be sooner? Already I know that he won’t be thrilled