The Graham Effect (Campus Diaries, #1)

Those silvery eyes gleam half a second before he cups my cheek with one hand. I’m not drunk enough to be doing this. In fact, I’m sober enough to know it’s probably a terrible idea.

“Beck, toss us some more cups,” Shane calls from outside. “Dumbass over here just stepped on like four of them.”

“It was an accident,” I hear Patrick protest.

The interruption allows me to collect my hormones and my common sense.

Beckett drops his hand, a rueful smile on his lips. “I’ll be right back.”

“Actually, perfect timing,” I say as I watch him pull some red cups off the stack at the table. “I need to pee, anyway.”

“Use the bathroom upstairs,” he offers.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. Turn left at the top of the stairs, end of the hall. That’s mine and Ryder’s.”

“Thanks.”

I set my empty bottle on the counter and dart upstairs. The music isn’t as loud up here. I welcome the muffled respite, needing to clear my head. I reach the bathroom door just as the one across from it swings open and a dark-haired girl slides out of the bedroom.

“Oh, sorry,” she exclaims after bumping into me.

We jump apart with awkward laughs.

“All good,” I say.

I tense slightly when I realize it’s Carma. I was right. They did go upstairs. I resist the urge to peer into the bedroom to see if Ryder is still in there. I imagine him adjusting his shirt. Zipping up his pants.

She notes my wary expression and quickly adds, “Don’t worry, I’m allowed to be up here. I left my necklace in Ryder’s room last time I was here, so I was just grabbing it.” She holds up a silver pendant with a tiny silver cross dangling off it. “Anyway…have a good night.”

“You too,” I murmur.

I watch her go, trying to ward off the prickly sensation pinching my gut as I duck into the bathroom to pee. While I wash my hands, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Wondering if I should have worn more makeup. I only dabbed on some concealer and lip gloss earlier. I look unnervingly plain compared to the woman I saw in the hall.

Then again, I can’t look that bad, considering Beckett has been eye-fucking me all night. I feel a tug between my legs at the idea of doing more than eye-fucking each other. God, some release would be nice. Going solo feels good, but sometimes a girl just needs a really good dicking.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Beckett leans against the wall waiting for me.

“Hey,” he says. “Thought maybe you’d gotten lost.”

“Nope.” I smooth out my hair before tucking it behind my ears. It’s rare that I wear my hair down. Usually I keep it in a braid.

Neither of us makes a move toward the stairs. Beckett’s gaze conducts a slow perusal of my body, this time lingering on my braless breasts rather than my midriff.

“You really do look incredible. Don’t think I can stress that enough.”

“Are you hitting on me right now?”

“Yes. Do you want me to stop?”

I slowly shake my head. “No.”

He moves closer to me. Those gray eyes dancing. He’s that type, I can tell. The guy who’s always down for a good time. For a laugh. A screw.

“There’s something about you,” he says, his voice low, husky.

“Is that a line?”

“No. I don’t use lines. I say what’s on my mind. And there’s just something about you that makes a man…” He drifts off, thoughtful.

“Makes a man what?”

“All jumbled in the head.” He smiles. “I look in your eyes and kind of get lost in them.” He sounds a bit sheepish now. “I know that does sound like a line, but I swear it’s the truth—”

Before he can finish, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him.

He’s startled. Then I feel his lips curve against my mouth in another smile.

“Sorry,” I blurt out, blushing from a pang of embarrassment. “I should have asked if I could do that. Is it okay?”

He responds by kissing me again.

The next thing I know, I’m pressed up against the wall, my hands twined around his neck, his tongue in my mouth. He’s a good kisser.

A shiver dances through me when I realize he’s hard. I feel him against my leg. And I’m melting into him. Warming up to the idea of throwing caution to the wind and letting myself feel good. If I’m going to hook up with anyone tonight, Beckett seems like a perfect candidate. Like someone who’s not going to expect anything else or want more from me.

His tongue touches mine again, and suddenly I hear loud throat clearing.

We break apart. My pulse careens faster when I see Ryder standing at the top of the stairs.

“Sorry to interrupt.” He drawls the words, yet there’s a sharp edge to them. “Got a little problem.”

Beckett glances over his shoulder, but Ryder’s looking at me, not him.

“Your boyfriend’s downstairs.”





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


RYDER



I don’t get jealous


“WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?”

Colson’s face is thunderous as he watches me descend the staircase. You can tell “pissed off” is not a natural state for him. He gives off a real Boy Scout vibe. Mr. Good Guy who’s always smiling and taking everything in stride. Right now, though, his jaw is tighter than a drum. He blustered up the driveway a few minutes after I sent Carma on her way. With his lackey in tow, of course. When they burst inside, Trager’s red face and clenched fists begged Case to unleash him on the world, but Colson kept his friend in check.

Now it appears both men are ready to explode.

“I told you I was going to get her,” I answer indifferently.

I nod over my shoulder. Gigi’s hurrying down the steps after me.

Relief floods Colson’s eyes when he sees her. Then he notices Beckett behind her.

“What the hell? You were upstairs with him?” he snarls.

“I was using the bathroom,” Gigi says.

The lie leaves her mouth smoothly, but we both know that’s not what she was doing up there.

I can’t explain the jolt of…something…that surges through me at the memory of finding her and Beckett up against the wall.

Fuck.

I think that something might be jealousy.

This girl is starting to get under my skin. I don’t like it.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Case is oozing disapproval. “Why are you hanging out with these guys?”

“We got invited to a party,” she answers with a shrug. Unruffled by his visible displeasure.

“Who’s we?”

“Mya and me. What are you doing here?”

“We were driving back from Malone’s, and I saw your car on the street. At first, I was like, No, there’s no fucking way Gigi would be here.” Bitterness hardens his voice. “And yet here you fucking are.”

Trager pipes up obnoxiously. “These assholes sprained Coffey’s wrist, G,” he reminds her.

“Hey, that was all you,” Shane tells Trager, rolling his eyes. “You threw your man into a table. Don’t put that on us.”

“Your boy Hawley started it!”

I’ve already tuned them out. Colson has too. He’s too busy frowning at Gigi.

“Go get Mya,” he orders. “We’re leaving.”

She appears like she wants to argue. Then she releases an annoyed breath and surrenders. “One second.”

She charges toward the kitchen. The music starts up again, blessedly drowning out whatever’s yapping from Trager’s mouth. Guy is such a douchebag.

While we wait for Gigi, Colson’s attention remains firmly fixed on me. A hard glare like I’m the one responsible for this.

But as always, Beckett’s dick gets us in trouble. The only surprising part of that is that Gigi Graham fell for it. She doesn’t seem like the type to go for one-night stands with fuckboys.

My mood grows darker, and it was already pretty dark before Colson decided to storm into my house. Started around the time Carma also decided to show up unannounced, claiming she forgot her necklace when she was here. For all I know she had the thing stashed in her pocket when she came tonight. I know I’m a suspicious asshole, but I tend to err on the side of cynicism. Expect the worst, then be pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong. Which rarely happens.

Maybe that’s not the healthiest way to live your life, but it’s how I’ve lived mine since I was six years old. Saved me a lot of disappointment over the years.