The Deal

I’m functioning on four hours of sleep. Kill me now. On the bright side, nobody saw Garrett drop me off at the dorms earlier, so at least my honor is still intact.

My morning classes drag on forever. I have a theory class followed by a music history seminar—both require me to actually pay attention, which is hard to do when I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ve already chugged three coffees today, but instead of giving me an energy boost, the caffeine just drained the meager energy I had to begin with.

I grab a late lunch in one of the campus dining halls, choosing a corner table in the back and sending out leave me alone vibes because I’m too damn tired to make conversation with anyone. The food succeeds in waking me up a little, and I’m early when I walk through the huge oak doors of the philosophy building.

I near the Ethics lecture hall and stop in my tracks. None other than Justin is loitering in the wide corridor, his dark eyebrows knitted as he texts on his phone.

Even though I showered and changed at the dorm, I still feel like a total slob. My outfit consists of yoga pants, a green hoodie, and red rain boots. The weather forecast called for rain that didn’t come, so now I feel like an idiot for my choice of footwear.

Justin, on the other hand, is sheer perfection. Dark jeans hug his long, muscular legs and his black sweater stretches across his broad shoulders in a delicious way that makes me shiver.

My heart beats faster the closer I get. I’m trying to decide if I should say hello or just nod in greeting, but he solves that dilemma by speaking first.

“Hey.” His mouth curves in a half smile. “Nice boots.”

I sigh. “It was supposed to rain.”

“That wasn’t sarcasm. I’m totally digging the boots. They remind me of home.” He notices my quizzical look and quickly elaborates. “I’m from Seattle.”

“Oh. Is that where you transferred from?”

“Yep. And trust me, if it’s not raining there, then something’s wrong. Rain boots are a necessity for survival when you live in Seattle.” He tucks his phone in his pocket, his voice taking on a casual note. “So what happened to you on Wednesday?”

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

“The Sigma party. I looked for you when I was done playing pool, but you were already gone.”

Oh my God. He was looking for me?

“Yeah, I left early,” I answer, hoping I sound equally casual. “I had a nine o’clock class the next morning.”

Justin slants his head. “I heard you left with Garrett Graham.”

That catches me off guard. I hadn’t thought anyone saw Garrett and me leave together, but clearly I was wrong. And apparently word travels faster than the speed of light at Briar.

“He gave me a ride home,” I reply with a shrug.

“Oh. I didn’t know you guys were friends.”

I smile impishly. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Holy shit. I’m flirting with him.

He smiles too, and the sexiest dimple I’ve ever seen appears in his chin. “I guess you’re right.” He pauses meaningfully. “Maybe we ought to change that.”

Holy shit. He’s flirting back.

And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m starting to think Garrett’s hard-to-get theory actually holds water. Justin seems curiously fixated on the fact that I left the party with Garrett.

“So…” His eyes twinkle playfully. “What are you doing after cla—”

“Wellsy!”

I swallow a groan at the cheerful interruption from—who else—Garrett. A slight frown touches Justin’s lips as Garrett strides up to us, but then he smiles and nods at the unwelcome intruder.

Garrett holds two foam cups in his hands, and he thrusts one at me with a grin. “Got you a coffee. I figured you might need it.”

I don’t miss the strange look Justin shoots in our direction, or the flicker of displeasure in his eyes, but I gratefully accept the cup and pop the lid, blowing on the hot liquid before taking a tiny sip. “You’re a lifesaver,” I breathe.

Garrett nods at Justin. “Kohl,” he says in greeting.

The two of them exchange a manly hand slap type of thing, not a shake, but not quite a fist bump either.

“Graham,” Justin says. “I heard you handed St. Anthony’s asses to them this weekend. Nice win.”

“Thanks.” Garrett chuckles. “I heard you got your ass handed to you against Brown. Bummer.”

“There goes our perfect season, huh?” Justin says ruefully.

Garrett shrugs. “You guys’ll bounce back. Maxwell’s arm is ridiculous.”

“Tell me about it.”

Since I rate sports talk on the same level of boring as politics and gardening, I take a step toward the door. “I’m heading in. Thanks for the coffee, Garrett.”