The Graham Effect (Campus Diaries, #1)

I scroll through my contacts until I find Darby’s name. Nick Lattimore’s girlfriend. I have her number from when she was planning Nick’s surprise party last year.

I compose a quick message, keeping it as vague as possible. Only the people in this house know about Gigi and me, or that I’m even dating someone, and I’d like to limit that information as much as possible.

A couple hours later, I get a text that Darby’s on her way. Not long after that, the doorbell rings. I throw open the door.

“Hey,” I say awkwardly.

“I don’t understand this,” she says in lieu of greeting.

I don’t understand it either.

She comes in, smacking a quick kiss on my cheek. She’s wearing combat boots and a tight sweater beneath her winter coat. Darby’s a cool chick. Confident, energetic. Always wondered what she was doing with a serious bastard like Nick.

“Called in the cavalry, I see,” Beckett mocks when we pass the living room. “Hey, Darby.”

“Beck.”

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” I tell her. “You want anything to drink?”

“Tea, please.”

I’m pretty sure nobody in this house drinks that, but I rustle around in the cabinets because Shane’s mom is the one who stocked them. Knowing her, she’d have made sure we had some of everything. Sure enough, I find some herbal tea and get the kettle going.

“I know this is weird,” I tell Darby.

“Literally the weirdest thing ever.”

“But I just needed a chick’s perspective on something.”

She flops down at the kitchen table, eyes alight with curiosity. “On what?”

“It’s, ah, a woman problem.”

“You called me here to talk about your love life?” she shrieks. Then she lets out a calming breath and speaks in a reverent voice. “This. Is the greatest day of my life.”

“It has to stay between us,” I warn.

“Luke Ryder has a girlfriend.”

“Why is that so shocking?”

“Oh my God. You don’t even know how excited I am right now. You’re seeing someone?”

I nod.

“Is it serious?”

“I think so.”

“Oh my God.”

“Stop saying that.”

Darby narrows her eyes at me. “So how did you screw it up?”

“Who says I did?” I grumble.

“Did you?”

I pause. “Yes.”

Grinning, Darby kicks out another chair with her foot.

I carry her tea over and set it in front of her. After a beat of reluctance, I sit down, sigh, and proceed to give her a quick rundown of my fight with Gigi. Leaving out names, locations, and any pertinent details that might be used against me in a court of law.

When I finish by voicing my irritation that my apology supposedly wasn’t sufficient, she starts to laugh.

“What?” I glower at her. “You think she’s right to be mad at me?”

“Do you even know why she’s mad?” Darby counters, echoing Gigi’s sentiments from the phone call.

I swear, do all women belong to some sort of telepathic network where they just know why they’re angry?

“Because I snapped at her.”

“Oh, Ryder. You silly, stupid man.”

She’s still chuckling as she reaches for her tea. The steam rises into her eyes when she takes a sip.

“Okay, let’s recap. Something happened to put you in a crabby mood.”

“Yes.”

“So you went over there in a bad mood.”

“Yes.”

“She asked you what was wrong and you said to drop it. Then she pushed and you snapped at her.”

“Yes.” Guilt pricks me at the reminder that I snapped at my woman.

“And you apologized for snapping.”

“Yes,” I say in frustration.

“But she’s telling you she’s not mad that you snapped at her. She’s mad because…?” Darby lets that hang, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

“No, you don’t get it. She hasn’t told me why she’s mad.”

“You should know why!” Darby sputters in amazement. “Dude. She’s upset because you wouldn’t fucking tell her why you were in a bad mood. What was the thing that happened to upset you? What, do we live in some mystery land where we don’t talk about things? The whole point of dating someone is to get to know them and share in all their moods. Their good moods, their bad moods. If I have a bad day, you damn well know Nick’s going to hear about it. He’s going to know every single detail.”

“You realize you’re a chick, right?”

She snorts. “You think Nick doesn’t tell me things too? Like, when he and his younger brother got in a huge fight last month, that’s all he talked about.”

“I’m not a talker,” I mutter.

“Then don’t be in a relationship.”

I sigh.

“Seriously, Ryder. There are different rules in play now. If you’re just hooking up with someone, banging here and there, you don’t have to talk about important things. But the second you start dating them, the expectations change.”

I rub my forehead. “I don’t like that.”

“Well, hate to break it to you, but that’s how relationships work. You have to talk. If something’s wrong, the other person wants to hear it. They need to hear it.”

My stomach churns. The idea of telling Gigi about the prosecutor’s call or my dad’s whereabouts, his parole hearing…it twists my insides.

But then I think about Gigi and how easily she tells me how she’s feeling, even when it makes her uncomfortable. And I realize I don’t give her anything in return other than orgasms.

Darby grins at me over the rim of her teacup. “You know I’m right, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I grumble. “I know you’re right.”

A sudden commotion sounds from the hallway. A loud crash, as if the front door flew open and smashed the wall. Thunderous footsteps then barrel down the hall.

I jump out of my chair just as Nick Lattimore comes tearing into the kitchen. He looks at me. Eyes Darby at the table. Then, before I can blink, he pulls his fist back and sends it flying toward my face. I dodge at the last second, so the blow only grazes my cheekbone, but there’s no dodging the accompanying jolt of pain.

“What the fuck?” I demand, as Shane, Beckett, and Will run into the kitchen.

“Lattimore, stop,” Shane says, pulling him away from me. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Me?” he roars. “He’s making a play for my girlfriend, and you’re asking what’s wrong with me?”

“Are you crazy? I’m not after your girlfriend,” I growl.

“You sent her a text that says, and I quote: Come over to my place and don’t tell your boyfriend.”

I falter. “Oh, in hindsight, that was worded poorly.”

Beckett doubles over in laughter. “Jesus. That’s fucking priceless, mate.”

Darby rises from her chair. “Sorry, Ryder, I know you told me not to say anything, but Nick and I don’t keep secrets.” She punctuates that with a look.

Point taken.





CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE


GIGI



He led me to you


I RETURN FROM MY POSTDINNER RUN TO FIND RYDER SITTING ON my couch. I jolt in surprise, tugging my earbuds out. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

He gets up. “Wanted to see you. Mya let me in before she headed out. She said to tell you she’s meeting some Tinder guy for drinks in Hastings.”

As I get closer, I notice a red mark on his left cheekbone. Not quite a cut. Maybe a slight bruise.

“What happened here?” Despite myself, I reach out to touch his face. “Did you get hurt during one of your games this weekend?”

He shakes his head. “Nick Lattimore punched me.”

“What? Why on earth would he do that?”

“He thought I invited his girlfriend over for sex.”

“Do I even want to ask?”

Ryder shrugs. “Darby came over because I needed advice on how to make you not hate me.”

I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I do. His gruff, sheepish admission instantly warms me over. God, this man.

“And I think I figured it out.” Another shrug. “I was hoping we could talk. For real.”

Sweaty and sticky from my run, I unzip my hoodie and take a step toward my side of the suite. “Do you mind if I grab a shower first?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll wait.”

A moment later, I dunk my head under the hot water and let it wash down over me. I think about everything I want to say to him. Everything that’s been weighing on my mind these past few days.

Do I want us to keep going?

Is there even a point?