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One guy looked up, beer in hand. He smiled, but then turned as a football flew out from the open door, smacking him in the back. Curses exploded.
Definitely fraternity row.
My spine stiffened as I picked up my pace, hurrying past the houses. I hit an intersection, stepped out, and nearly got slammed by a silver truck—one of those big ones, maybe a Tundra—as it sped onto the narrow road I needed to cross. My heart jumped as the truck slammed its brakes, blocking my path.
I took a step back onto the curb, confused. Was the driver going to yell at me?
The tinted passenger window rolled down, and I about fell flat on my face.
Cameron Hamilton grinned at me from behind the wheel, baseball cap on, turned backward. Wisps of dark hair curled up under the band. And he was shirtless—totally shirtless. And from what I could see of him, just his chest, it was a mighty fine chest. Pecs—the guy had pecs. And a tattoo. On the right side of his chest, a sunburst, flames trailing back over his shoulders in vibrant hues of red and orange.
‘Avery Morgansten, we meet again.’
He was the last person I wanted to see. I had the shittiest luck known to man. ‘Cameron Hamilton … hi.’
He leaned over, dropping an arm over the steering wheel. Correction. He also had some really nice biceps. ‘We have to stop meeting like this.’
And that was the truest thing ever spoken. I needed to stop staring at his biceps … and chest … and tattoo. Never thought the sun could be so … sexy. Wow. This was awkward.
‘You running into me, me almost running over you?’ Cam elaborated. ‘It’s like we’re a catastrophe waiting to happen.’
I had no idea what to say to that. My mouth was dry, thoughts scattered.
‘Where are you heading?’
‘My car,’ I forced out. ‘I’m about to run out of time.’ Not necessarily true, because I had been generous with the quarters so I wouldn’t end up with a parking ticket, but he didn’t need to know that. ‘So …’
‘Well, hop in, sweetheart. I can give you a ride.’
Blood drained from my face and rushed to other parts of my body in a really odd and confusing way. ‘No. It’s okay. I’m right up the hill. No need at all.’
The grin spread up on the side, revealing that one dimple. ‘It’s no problem. It’s the least I can do after almost running you over.’
‘Thank you, but—’
‘Yo! Cam!’ Beer Guy jumped off the porch and jogged down the sidewalk, passing me a quick look. ‘What you up to, man?’
Saved by the frat boy.
Cam’s gaze didn’t veer from me, but his grin started to slip. ‘Nothing, Kevin, just trying to have a conversation.’
Giving Cam a quick wave, I hurried around Kevin and the front of the truck. I didn’t look back, but I could feel him watching. Over the years, knowing when someone was staring at you when you weren’t looking had become a talent of mine.
I forced myself not to run to the train station, because running away in front of the same guy twice in one day was beyond the acceptable level of weirdness. Even for me.
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I was behind the wheel of my car and had the engine humming.
Jesus.
I dropped my head against the steering wheel and groaned. A catastrophe waiting to happen? Yeah, sounded about right.
Chapter 3 (#u686c50ba-6ae7-5fe7-9ea1-07e1f898d73d)
Sitting through a three-hour-long sociology class Tuesday night hadn’t been as bad as I thought it would be, but by the time class let out, I was starving. Before I headed back to my apartment, I stopped by Sheetz—a convenience store/gas station we didn’t have in Texas—and got an MTO. A made-to-order salad, heavy on the fried chicken strips and ranch dressing.
Mmm. Healthy.
My apartment building parking lot was packed with cars, some even in the nearby field that butted up to West Campus. It hadn’t been like this when I’d left for my evening class and I wondered what was going on. I managed to find a parking spot all the way near the main road and as I turned off the ignition, my cell rattled in the cup holder.
I grinned when I saw it was a text from Jacob. We’d exchanged numbers earlier in class since he lived in one of the dorms.
Art sucks was all his text said.
Laughing, I sent him a quick text back about our homework, which was to identify what painting belonged to what era. Thank God for Google, because that was how I was completing the assignment.
Gathering up my bag and food, I climbed out of my car. The air was sticky and I lifted my hair off my neck, wishing I had pulled it up into a ponytail. The scent of autumn was in the air, though, and I was eager to see cooler weather. Maybe even snow in the winter. I headed across the brightly lit parking lot, toward the center cluster of apartments. I was on the top floor—the fifth. It seemed like a lot of students lived here and most hadn’t really started to arrive until today, but as soon as I stepped up on the sidewalk, I knew where all the cars were coming from.
Music thumped from somewhere inside my apartment building. A lot of lights were on, and I could pick up pieces of conversation as I headed up the stairs. On the fifth floor, I found the culprit. The apartment across the hall, two doors down, was throwing a party. The door was cracked open, and light and music spilled into the open hallway.
A little bit of jealousy wiggled inside my chest as I unlocked my door. All the laughter, the noise, and the music sounded fun. It all seemed so normal, like something I should be doing, but parties …
Parties didn’t end well for me.
Closing my door behind me, I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag on the couch. Furnishing this apartment had put a dent in my account, but I’d be here for four years and I figured I could sell everything when I left or take it with me.
And it was all my stuff. That meant a lot to me.
The party raged on across the hall, long after I finished my not-so-healthy salad, changed into sleep shorts and a long-sleeve shirt, and finished my art homework. It was just after midnight when I gave up on reading my English assignment and started back toward my bedroom.
But I stopped in the hallway, my toes curling into the carpet.
A burst of muffled laughter rang out and I knew the door of the party apartment must’ve been open, because it sounded louder than before. I was frozen, worrying my lower lip. What if I opened the door and recognized someone from class? It was obviously a college kid throwing the party. Maybe I would know the person? So what if I did? Wasn’t like I was going to join in when I was braless, wearing my jammies, and rocking the messiest ponytail known to man.
I turned and flipped on the bathroom light, staring at my reflection. Scrubbed of all makeup, the freckles on the bridge of my nose stood way out and my face seemed more flushed than normal. I leaned against the sink my mom would’ve laughed at and pressed my face closer to the mirror.
With the exception of my reddish-brown hair, which came from my father, I was the spitting image of my mom—straight nose, rounded chin, and high cheekbones; with all the cosmetic help she’d had over the years to stay looking fresh, we looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.
Footsteps echoed out in the hall. More laughter.
I made a face at my reflection and pushed away from the mirror. Back in the hall, I told myself to go to sleep, but I found myself walking toward my front door. I had no idea what I was doing or why I was being so nosy, but everything sounded … warm and fun out there and everything in here was cold and boring.
Warm and fun?
I rolled my eyes. God, I sounded lame. It was cold in here because I had the central air cranked like a mother.
But I was at the door and there was nothing stopping me. Yanking it open, I peered out into the stairwell, seeing two heads disappear down the steps. The door to the party was still open, and I stood there, torn. This wasn’t home. No one was going to send me a scathing look or yell obscenities at me. If anything, they’d probably think I was some kind of freak just standing there, half out my door, all bug-eyed, and letting all the cold air out.
‘Bring Raphael back!’ exclaimed a familiar voice and a deep laugh that had my stomach dropping in stunned disbelief. ‘You fucktard!’
I recognized that voice! Oh my God …
It couldn’t be. I hadn’t seen the big-ass silver truck outside, but then again, there were so many cars and it wasn’t like I was searching for his truck.
The door swung all the way open, and I froze as a guy stumbled out, laughing as he set a tortoise—what the fuck?—on the floor. The thing stuck its head out, looked around, and then disappeared into its shell.
A second later, the guy who’d put the tortoise outside was pulled back into the apartment and Cam appeared in the doorway in all his shirtless glory. He reached down and scooped up the little green guy. ‘Sorry, Raphael. My friends are complete, fucking …’ He looked up.
I tried to jerk back inside, but it was too late.
Cam saw me.
‘Assholes …’ He did a double take. ‘What the … ?’
Would dive-bombing into my apartment seem weird? Yes—yes it would. So I went with a very lame, ‘Hey …’
Cam blinked several times, as if he sought to clear his vision. ‘Avery Morgansten? This is becoming a habit.’
‘Yeah.’ I forced myself to swallow. ‘It is.’
‘Do you live here or are you visiting?’
I cleared my throat as the tortoise’s legs started moving like it was trying to wiggle away. ‘I … I live here.’
‘No shit?’ Those baby blues widened and he swaggered around the railing. I couldn’t help but notice how his gym shorts hung way low on his narrow hips. Or his stomach. It was ripped, taking six-pack into eight-pack territory. ‘You really live here?’
I forced my gaze up and got stuck on the sun tattoo. ‘Yes. I really live here.’
‘This is … I don’t even know.’ He laughed again, and I met his stare. ‘Really crazy.’
‘Why?’ Besides the fact he was standing in my apartment hallway, shirtless and barefoot, holding a tortoise named Raphael?
‘I live here.’
I gaped at him. The whole half-naked thing sort of made sense now and I guess so did the tortoise, but it couldn’t be true. Way too many coincidences. ‘You’re joking, right?’
‘No. I’ve been living here for a while—like a couple of years with my roommate. You know, the fucktard who put poor Raphael outside.’
‘Hey!’ the guy yelled from inside their apartment. ‘I have a name. It’s Señor Fucktard!’
Cam laughed. ‘Anyway, did you move in over the weekend?’
I found myself nodding.
‘Makes sense. I was back home, visiting the fam.’ He shifted Raphael to his other hand, cradling the squirming thing to his chest. ‘Well, hell …’
I was gripping the door so hard my knuckles ached. ‘That’s … um, your tortoise?’
‘Yeah.’ A half grin appeared as he lifted the little guy. ‘Raphael, meet Avery.’
I gave the tortoise a little wave, feeling stupid afterward for doing so. It just stuck its head back in its green-and-brown shell. ‘That’s a very interesting pet.’
‘And those are very interesting shorts.’ His gaze dropped. ‘What are they?’ He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, and I stiffened. ‘Pizza slices?’
Heat swamped my cheeks. ‘They’re ice cream cones.’
‘Huh. I like them.’ Straightening, his gaze drifted up me slowly, leaving an unfamiliar wake of heat behind. ‘A lot.’
I immediately let go of the door and crossed my arms over my chest. One corner of his lips tipped up. My eyes narrowed. ‘Thanks. That means a lot to me.’
‘It should. They have my seal of approval.’ He bit down on his lower lip as his lashes lifted. Those eyes pierced mine. ‘I need to get Raphael back in his little habitat before he pees on my hand, which he’s bound to do, and that sucks.’
My lips twitched into a small grin. ‘I can imagine.’
‘So, you should come over. The guys are about to leave, but I’m sure they’ll be around for a little longer. You can meet them.’ He inched closer and lowered his voice. ‘They’re no way as interesting as I am, but they’re not bad.’
I glanced over his shoulder, part of me wanting one thing and the other part wanting nothing to do with any of this. That part won out. ‘Thanks, but I was heading to bed.’
‘This early?’
‘It has to be after midnight.’
His grin was spreading. ‘That’s still early.’
‘Maybe to you.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘I have cookies.’
‘Cookies?’ My brows rose.
‘Yeah, and I made them. I’m quite the baker.’
For some reason, I couldn’t picture that. ‘You baked cookies?’
‘I bake a lot of things, and I’m sure you’re dying to know all about those things. But tonight, it was chocolate and walnut cookies. They are the shit, if I do say so myself.’
‘As great as that sounds, I’m going to have to pass.’
‘Maybe later then?’
‘Maybe.’ Not likely. I stepped back, reaching for the door. ‘Well, it’s good seeing you again, Cameron.’
‘Cam,’ he corrected. ‘And hey, we didn’t almost run each other over. Look at us, changing up the pattern.’
‘That’s a good thing.’ I was back in my apartment and he was still in front of my door. ‘You should get back before Raphael pees on your hand.’
‘Would be worth it,’ he replied.
My brows knitted. ‘Why?’
