by S. M. Soto
He calls everyone babe, Nat, don’t feel too special.
“You know this is just a ride, right?” I find myself saying into the silence of his car. “You’re not expecting anything from me? Because I don’t even like you.”
Luke mashes his lips together, trying to stifle his laughter, and I frown once again. Why is he always laughing at me?
“I know for certain I don’t like you either, so rest assured there’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a ride.”
I should feel better now that he’s said that, but instead I feel like he’s just slapped me in my face. I mean, I know I’m not the prettiest girl in the world but damn, doesn’t he find me the least bit attractive? Way to squash a girl’s self-esteem.
The rest of the ride to my apartment is in awkward silence. Or maybe I’m just feeling awkward after he basically said he doesn’t like me and thinks I’m ugly. Sure, he didn’t say that in so many words, but try telling that to my brain. That piece of gray matter interprets things any way it wants.
He throws the car in park, and I shuffle quickly to get out. Before closing the door, all I can offer is one word.
“Thanks.”
As lame as it is, I hurry up the stairs to my door and rush inside. I rest my body against the door, and my chest heaves with the realization of what this night turned into.
Holy shit.
I just got a ride home from the Luke Caldwell. Pulling away from the door, I drag myself into my room and lie on my bed, staring up at the stark white ceiling. Thoughts of Luke cloud my mind and I’m no longer interested in studying.
CHAPTER 2
Natalia
It’s been two months since I last saw Luke, and for that, I’m all too thankful. A few weeks after my ride home with him and I still wasn’t able to get him out of my head. He’s everywhere I look, and I often find myself searching for him on campus—which is just absolutely crazy because I’ve never seen him on campus anyway. Luke Caldwell might as well be a ghost. He’s untouchable. After a few weeks, I am slowly—but diligently—purging him from my mind and getting back to the way life was before I ever met Luke Caldwell. Work and school; work and school.
The fall semester is going to start in a few weeks, so I’ll need to prepare myself for another busy workload. I’ve already talked to my boss CJ at the Bar and Grille, asked if I can leave early on Tuesdays and Thursdays for classes. The class I’m most excited about taking is Psych of Personality. It’s required for my major, which is psychology, but unlike most other students, I’m looking forward to it. I’ve always wanted to be someone with a career that actually helps people, especially because of the way I grew up. I didn’t really know my mother all that well as a child, and I think that undoubtedly messed with my childhood. My dad was married with a child of his own—Georgina—and he went off and found himself a little sidepiece who turned out to be my mother. He traded in the older model, which was Gina’s mother, for a newer model who was my mother. She was from Mexico, and she wasn’t a legal documented citizen. My dad knocked her up and, well, lo and behold, here I am. Instead of being the better man and divorcing Gina’s mother to marry my own, he strung her along until she had me—he strung both women along, actually.
I briefly remember parts of her but not everything a young girl should remember about her mother. I remember what she smelled like—coconut and vanilla bean meshed together. I spent most of my teenage years searching for a fragrance that matched hers to a T. It took me a while, but I finally managed to concoct a fragrance similar to hers. I can hardly remember what her voice sounded like. She would sing to me in Spanish when I was just a little girl. It was beautiful. I can’t remember the song or the words, but I do know that whenever she sang it, I was happy. I vaguely remember what she looked like. Usually, I have to stare at the pictures I have of her until they spur buried memories of my childhood. Three damn pictures are all I have left of my mother. The first, her holding me as a baby. The second, our smiling faces shoved in front of the camera. And the third, my mother sitting on a rock somewhere, smiling at something in the distance. That one’s my favorite. It captured her beauty perfectly. Tan skin, full red lips tipped into a smile, with big brown doe eyes, and long thick strands of dark hair blowing behind her. She was the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen to date. The epitome of beauty. I can easily see why my father fell for her. She was stunning in every way.
Gina’s mother was furious when she found out my dad knocked up another woman, so she did what all scorned women do when they know they’re close to losing their happily ever after. She sabotaged my mother by having her deported back to Mexico. I was only four years old at the time.
Can you say fucked up? I know I can.
We kept in touch with her as best as we could, but my father would never let me go visit her or my family in Mexico. Eventually, he stopped allowing the calls, and I lost contact with my mother. It was hard. Especially since I didn’t understand why any of this was happening. I was just a kid.
I still don’t know why he kept me away from my mother, the woman who I’m positive would’ve given her life for me. I can’t ask him about it because the conversation always turns into a heated argument. I get that I was born as an American citizen, but what I don’t get is why couldn’t she take me with her? I mean surely Gina’s mother would’ve preferred that instead of my father moving me in with his family. It’s hard to believe becoming a Mexican citizen is harder than becoming an American citizen. My only guess—my mother didn’t want me to be stuck in Mexico with her. She had to have been working here for a reason, and maybe it was to get away from the place she grew up in.
Around the time I turned twelve, my father sat me down and told me my mother had passed away. Something about pneumonia or asbestos in the chest. It was devastating. I was hurt. Beyond hurt. Because my mission was to one day meet the family that should’ve been mine. I had a plan—once I turned eighteen, the first chance I got, I would find my mother, and make up for lost time. Instead I got stuck with my father and Gina. Yeah, my dad loves me, but not like he loves Gina. He’ll do anything for her, and he almost always does. As for me, he can’t ever find the time to make an effort—which is fine. I get it. He didn’t ask for me, yet he ended up stuck raising me while my mother, who would’ve done most of the work, died. But sometimes I can’t help but be angry and let the hate fester. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for my father’s wife to hate my very existence. I didn’t ask for my half-sister to loathe me. And I sure as hell didn’t ask to grow up without a mother. Call it naïve, but how is any of this my fault? I didn’t ask for it. The few pictures of her that I stole from my father are all I really have left, no other ties binding us together.
I just wish I was given the choice to leave with her instead of being forced to stay here with a dad who doesn’t love me like he loves his first born. This is the main reason I don’t date, because of the fear of dealing with something like this. Yeah, it’s a little far-fetched that it will happen to me too, but you never know. That’s not a chance I’m willing to take. When I’m ready, I’ll find someone who is worth everything, someone who can’t live their life without me in it, someone who is willing to put me first, and we’ll spend our lives together happily. No drama, no fucked-up family issues—just us. For once in my life…I just want to come first.
CHAPTER 3
Natalia
Today’s the first day back from break and I’m beyond ecstatic. The quicker I finish my education, the faster I can get the hell away from Gina and my dad and move on with my life. There isn’t very much diversity here at San Diego State, so my tan skin usually stands out among everyone else. They say your college years are where you build long-lasting relationships, and make some of your best friends, but honestly, I couldn’t disagree more. Some of the students here are complete assholes, which is why I don’t bother befriending anyone. As for the campus, it’s beautiful. Pictures don’t do it justice. With lush green palm trees, white stucco Spa
nish architectural buildings, and clear blue skies, you almost feel like you’re at a resort somewhere in Latin America.
I take a seat in the center of the lecture hall in my psyche class. As I’m pulling my notebook out of my shoulder bag, I hear someone slide into the seat beside me. I roll my eyes in irritation. I hate it when people take the seat right next to me when a class isn’t even full. Like seriously dude? There are hundred other seats to choose from. Why me?
After pulling the essentials out of my bag, I shift to glance at the annoying stranger beside me, and my mouth drops open.
“Was wondering when you’d notice me.” Luke chuckles, showcasing his dimples. I forget to breathe for a second. What the hell is Luke Caldwell doing in this class? My class? And that’s exactly what I ask him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand with narrowed eyes. “Are you following me?” That gets a howling, stomach-holding laugh out of him.
“Wow, it’s amazing you even made it through the lecture doors with that big head of yours,” he teases. “I hear being humble is good every now again. You should try it.” I roll my eyes because, as annoying as he is, he’s completely right. That was a little too assumptive of me to presume he was here just for me. Wishful thinking on my part I guess. “And if you must know why I’m here, it’s obviously because I’m taking this class, all semester long—with you.”
I slouch in my seat and groan. Right when I purged thoughts of him from my mind and finally got my head on straight, this would happen to me. Of course it would. Why me? Thankfully Luke doesn’t talk much during our first class. I sort of forget he’s even sitting next to me. Aside from my sneaky glances out of the corner of my eye, it feels like an ordinary day of class.
Who am I kidding? Of course I can’t forget Luke Caldwell is sitting right next to me during the lecture.
His body heat radiates off him, and the smell of his cologne will permanently be ingrained in my memory. Why do hot guys always smell so good? It’s unfair. You can’t be completely gorgeous and smell delicious too. It’s just not fair to the rest of the decent looking population.
My heart nearly explodes out of my chest when Luke’s firm arm lightly grazes mine. I momentarily forget to breathe as my stomach buzzes with what feels like thousands of angry bees. I can’t explain why the small touch has such a profound effect on me, but all I know is, I’m not happy about it. In fact, it makes me angry. I’m not this girl—I don’t trip over myself and fall over hot guys with freaking hearts in my eyes, but for some reason, here I am, close to doing that. He doesn’t ever need to know that though. For all Luke knows, I can’t stand him. And I plan to keep it that way.
After the professor dismisses us, I gather my notebook, stuff it back in my bag, and get ready to head to my next class. It’s not too far from here, only about a seven-minute walk, so I’ll have a good fifteen minutes to spare before that class starts.
“Where are you heading to now?” I jolt at the sound of Luke’s deep voice beside me. I thought for sure he would’ve been one of the first out of the door when we were dismissed, so I’m more than surprised to still see him here. I shift my eyes and meet his gaze. I’m momentarily lost in the swirling color there. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such intricate eyes. They’re gorgeous—more so than my average brown ones. His eyes are hazel, but not like any hazel I’ve ever seen. The brown is so light I can easily make out green and shards of blue.
Luke continues staring down at me expectantly. His Aztecs football tee shirt hugs his muscles to perfection, and his sweats somehow make him look hotter than usual. There’s something to be said about a guy who dresses casually without thinking twice about it. There’s no doubt in my mind, Luke dresses in whatever way he wants, whenever he wants. He doesn’t have to try to look good or dress nice because he obviously looks good in anything.
I clear my throat, coming to the realization I haven’t answered his question. Instead, I’ve just been standing here, gawking at him like a mesmerized fangirl meeting someone like Justin Bieber for the first time. For the record, Luke Caldwell is so much hotter than Justin Bieber.
“I, um, I’m heading to my next class over in the EC building.” He runs a hand through his wayward hair, making it somehow look like he just rolled out of bed, but instead of bedhead, his hair looks like something out of a GQ magazine. How is it that I have to spend a good half hour on my hair and all he has to do is run his hand through his in a matter of seconds and the result looks amazing? Un-fucking-fair.
“I’m headed that way for my next class too. I’ll walk with you.” He leaves no room for argument. Thoughts come rushing in all at once, making my heartbeat speed up.
Holy shit, what if we share another class together?
Can I handle being around him again?
Why wouldn’t I though? He’s just a guy. A stupid, gorgeous, man-whoring guy, who just so happens to look like the man of my dreams. What if—
“Hey,” Luke chuckles, snapping me out of the wayward thoughts. “Are you coming? You zoned out for a second.”
I plaster a reassuring smile on my face. “Yeah, of course. Sorry. I was just thinking about my next class. You said you were headed the same way?” I try to keep the jittery nerves I’m feeling out of my voice.
Luke nods, allowing me to lead the way out of the aisle in the lecture hall.
Please don’t say Abnormal Psych. Please don’t say Abnormal Psych. I repeat the mantra over and over again, even though some sadistic part of me hopes he’ll say the same class.
“Yeah, I’m headed to the speech building for Spanish.” I breathe a sigh of relief, or maybe I deflate at his answer. I’m not entirely sure. I keep my fake smile plastered on my face as we walk silently beside each other. I can’t tell if this feels awkward or if I’m just acting weird. Probably the latter.
“Why do you keep smiling like that? You look constipated or something.” Luke looks down at me with a perplexed expression and my face heats.
Oh god. Can this get any worse?
My smile falters, morphing into a scowl and I narrow my eyes in what I presume to be a threatening manner, all the while grumbling insults under my breath.
Great, constipation and my face put in the same sentence is not a good thing. Especially coming from a guy like Luke Caldwell.
“I was kidding Natalia. You just looked like you were thinking too hard.” He nudges my arm with his elbow and my lip twitches, ruining the effect of my scowl.
“You do realize girls don’t like to be told that they look like they’re constipated, right?” I raise a questioning brow, and Luke just shrugs with his dimpled grin in full effect.
“Honestly, I couldn’t really care less. I say what’s on my mind, whenever it’s on my mind. I have a no bullshit policy.” The seriousness implied in his tone makes me downright laugh. A few people walking past us on their way to classes look at me like I’m crazy.
“A no bullshit policy?” I scoff. “Good lord, you are something else entirely.” Luke’s dimples deepen, and he suddenly stops walking, right in front of the statue of Samuel L. Black. I follow suit, cocking my head to the side in a “what’s up” gesture.
“Gotta get to my next class.” He points to the building behind him. “See you around,” is all he says before casually walking away into the building. He’s so calm and collected. He has this natural swagger about him, no doubt due to the fact that he’s a smug bastard who probably gets everything he wants. But nevertheless, it actually looks good on him. He’s probably one of the only men in history who can pull off being as confident as he is. My eyes shift from the doors he just disappeared through to all the people around me staring as intently as I am. It seems like wherever Luke is, that’s where everyone’s eyes are too. He’s magnetic. It’s almost like they all stop to watch his every move.
I shake my head, ridding myself of any lingering thoughts about him. Instead of feeling happy that he’s gone, I feel the complete opposite. I’ve only spent one cla
ss with him, and this is what he’s already doing to my head? How the hell am I supposed to make it through the rest of the semester? I force my legs to move so I can get to my next class. Focus, Natalia, focus. That’s the mantra I use the rest of the day.
Enjoying Scoring the Quarterback so far?
Purchase here:
books2read.com/u/bQxyZe
For any updates on new releases, sales, free books, and behind-the-scenes peeks of upcoming projects, please subscribe to my newsletter: http://eepurl.com/dPFAcr
Join my Reader Group: https://facebook.com/groups/smsbaddies
Sign up for my Street Team: https://goo.gl/forms/WuIztCgZ6JuMkAb03
Sign up for my ARC Team: https://goo.gl/4qtjtk
S.M. Soto was born and raised in Northern California where she currently resides with her son. Her love for reading began when she was a young girl and has only continued to grow into adulthood. S.M. lives for reading books in the romance genre and writing novels with relatable characters. She refers to herself as a bit of a romance junkie. She loves to connect with readers and eat copious of donuts that will surely lead to her demise (carbs are life).
FOLLOW LINKS:
Instagram.com/authorsmsoto
Twitter.com/AuthorSMsoto
Facebook.com/romanceauthorsmsoto
Stay tuned for brand new releases from S.M. Soto!
A Cruel Love
Coming May 9th
Kiss Me with Lies
Coming Fall 2019
Add to your TBR on Goodreads: https://goo.gl/QWo3db
