The Sophomore (College Years #2) - Monica Murphy Page 0,71

Carson’s face. “Hey, Ellie.”

Jackson’s entire demeanor goes cold. His hand drops from my elbow. “What the fuck?”

“You didn’t respond to my texts and calls,” I tell him, my voice low. “I panicked. I thought you forgot about me.”

“I would never forget you, Ellie,” he says, his tone fierce.

“You did tonight,” I point out.

“I’m here now, aren’t I? Jesus.” He runs both of his hands over his head, his fingers sliding through his hair. In this position, the muscles in his arms bulge and flex, his biceps huge.

Regret slams into me, hard and swift. I should’ve never called Carson. I should’ve called Eli and told him to wake up Jackson. I totally messed up.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d show up,” I whisper, wincing when I hear Carson’s car door slam.

Oh God, I really hope this doesn’t turn into a confrontation.

“Ellie,” Carson says, hurriedly walking over to where Jackson and I are standing. “You okay?”

He glares at Jackson, who glares right back.

Carson has balls. Jackson is clearly taller and bigger, his muscular chest on complete display. Which is a total distraction for me, I have to admit. I keep sneaking glances at him. He’s all rumpled and sexy, like he just rolled out of bed, which he totally did. If I could rewind the last fifteen minutes and change how this has all unfolded, I so would.

But I can’t. I’ve created this big ol’ mess and now I have to clean it up as best I can.

“I’m great. Uh, just a miscommunication.” I smile at Carson before I turn my gaze to Jackson. “He can take me home.”

“The fuck he will,” Jackson growls as he goes to stand behind me, his hands curling around my shoulders. “I’ll drive her home.”

His commanding voice tells me—and Carson—that he’s not going to back down.

I whirl on him, giving him a shove. “Stop being a macho asshole. I’m going home with Carson.”

“Ellie, come on,” he starts, but I shake my head.

“Nope, I’m riding with Carson. You can go home.” I flounce away from Jackson before he can say another word, my entire body shaking. I follow Carson to his car, opening the passenger door and climbing inside. He drives a silver Chevy Malibu. A nice, practical car.

For a nice, practical guy. How fitting.

“That’s the guy from the party, right?” Carson asks, once he’s in the driver’s seat and about to back the car out of the lot. “Is he actually your ex or something?”

“He’s just a friend. He was supposed to pick me up, but he forgot,” I say nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal.

“Oh.” Carson nods, still a little confused. “Okay. He seemed kind of mad.”

Major understatement, but I don’t correct him.

“He’s fine.” I wave a hand. “Don’t worry about him.”

The thing is, Jackson didn’t actually forget me. He just fell asleep, like I originally thought. And he seemed really pissed that Carson was here to get me. I probably shouldn’t have gone with Carson, but I felt bad for dragging him out here. Plus, I was still mad, thinking Jackson forgot about me, and then he showed up. Enraged and hot and bossy…I just reacted. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me. Which is silly and petty but…

I’ve made my choice, and I sort of regret it. What I’ve actually done is made everything worse, but it’s too late now.

We make idle small talk while Carson drives me home, but I’m distracted. I swear to God, we’re being followed. By Jackson. And maybe we are.

Or maybe I’m reading too much into things. He wouldn’t follow me. He doesn’t care that much.

By the time we’re at my apartment complex, I’m exhausted. “Thank you for coming to my rescue,” I tell Carson. “Sorry that was such a pain with Jackson.”

“It’s cool. Tell him I didn’t mean anything by showing up,” Carson says, ever the polite one.

I smile and climb out of his car. “I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I didn’t mind coming to get you. I swear,” Carson says.

“You’re the best,” I tell him with a weak smile. “See you tomorrow.”

I shut the door and he watches me approach my apartment building, only leaving when I wave, and he must view it as me reassuring him I’m safe.

What a nice guy. He’s such a good guy.

Seriously, what am I doing, wasting my time with Jackson?

Another car pulls into the lot, and I immediately recognize it. A Mercedes. Jackson, of course. As if he’s been lying in wait for Carson to leave before