And that, my friends, had been the end of that.
Lexie’s advice was to forget about my cheating asshole of an ex by hooking up with a bunch of hot French guys.
I hooked up with two semi-hot French dudes and buried myself in dance which was the reason I’d been accepted to study at the Conservatoire de Paris in the first place. After a few months, my heartache lessened. I stopped thinking about Finn, my dad, his new wife, their kids and I just concentrated on soaking up everything I possibly could.
It took some time to adjust but after about two months, I found myself with an amazing new life in a city renowned for its art and culture. There was no way I was going to allow anything to ruin this once in a lifetime opportunity. After about ten months, I stopped thinking about Lexie and coming back to Barnett University and started wondering if maybe I could live here for the rest of my life.
Or, at the very least, the next few years.
When I mentioned this possibility to my dad, he made it perfectly clear that he would not be footing the bill for a life in Paris and said, in no uncertain terms, he wanted me back at Barnett come August. Undeterred by his directive, or perhaps because of it, I’d searched for enough scholarship and grant money to pay for me to continue studying in Paris. Needless to say, I hadn’t been able to pull it off which is exactly why I was back at Barnett for my junior year.
“So, do you like it?”
My eyes swing back to Lexie who is standing there with all this hopeful expectation lighting up her eyes. A tiny smile tugs at the corners of my lips because it really is good to see her after all this time apart. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
Looking very much like the best friend I left behind fifteen months ago, a huge grin spills across her beautiful face right before she hurtles herself at me for a third time.
Chapter Two
Hang onto your panties ladies, because Roan King is kicking off the first day of the fall semester by stripping off his shirt... and yeah, it's definitely a majestic sight to behold. Is it possible that he’s even more ripped and gorgeous than last year? Someone hand me a napkin, I'm starting to drool over here... KingOfCampus.com
How could I have forgotten that jet lag is a total bitch?
It should really be called ass lag or maybe even ass drag would be a more accurate description because my ass is literally dragging on the ground and it's only nine fifty in the morning. I have a whole freaking day stretched out ahead of me.
Oh god… that thought makes me want to weep.
I just want to lie down right here in the middle of campus and cry.
And no amount of highly caffeinated beverages seems to be helping with that affliction either. Because I've been steadily pouring them down my throat since I pried open my blurry eyes this morning. My fingers are tightly wrapped around drink number three as we speak.
I hate to say it, but it already feels like I’m off to a crappy start. Here it is the first day of classes and I'm practically running clear cross campus because I’m late. Why exactly did I think packing up my entire life in France and traveling home the day before fall semester started was such a brilliant idea?
Oh... that’s right... I had wanted to squeeze every single moment I possibly could out of Paris. Which, come on… you really can’t blame me for. Because of that, I'd spent all of yesterday unpacking and organizing. Basically running around like a chicken with my head cut off before collapsing onto my lovely double sized bed at midnight. And then I’d slept for eight solid hours.
Yeah. Eight blissful, dead-to-the-world hours.
And I'm still dragging like I haven't slept a single wink.
Hauling my ass out of bed this morning had been a monumental accomplishment on my part. I'd wanted to pick up my books at the campus bookstore before they ran out which actually happened to me freshman year. Unfortunately the line at the bookstore had been way longer than I’d anticipated which has now made me late for my ten o’clock business ethics class.
I can't believe what a bunch of freaking procrastinators go to this school!
I, on the other hand, have a completely legitimate reason for waiting until the last minute to get my books... Okay... fine... yes, I could have technically ordered them online... But I hadn't wanted to think about Barnett until absolutely forced to. Because thinking about Barnett meant I had to accept that the life I’d created for myself in Paris would be coming to a screeching halt.
So now here I am, trying to hustle my way across campus.
In dire need of something to pull me out of this mental fog, I hoist the Frappuccino to my lips. Instead of giving me a much needed jolt of energy, it just makes me feel even more jittery than I already am. My sunglasses are sitting on the bridge of my nose, shielding my eyes from the overly harsh sunshine I would be all but basking in on any other given day. My super-sized iced coffee drink is in one hand while my phone is in the other because it keeps pinging with incoming messages. My bag is slung across my nonexistent chest. As I move along the wide sidewalk towards Adler Hall, it feels as if I'm fighting exhaustion with every step I take.
I honestly don't know how I'm going to make it through an entire day like this without falling into some kind of narcoleptic state. My eyelids are just on the verge of drooping when I crash into a hard body. Instinctively I clutch my phone in one hand as my half-filled coffee drink gets dumped all over the person who has the sad misfortune to end up colliding with me.
I may not have been fully awake before this unexpected collision, but I certainly am now. My mouth falls open in shock and a fair amount of horror as I watch icy brown droplets course their way down a male t-shirt covered chest.
"Oh my god," I finally squeak. I'm all but dying of mortification as hot licks of embarrassment set fire to my normally pale cheeks. "I’m so sorry." Now would be a perfect time for the sidewalk to crack open and swallow me whole.
Yep... right now.
Right now, damn it.
What makes matters even worse is that he has yet to utter a single word. The last thing I want to do is force my gaze up and actually make eye contact. At this very moment, I’m desperately racking my brain for an exit strategy. Like sprinting away from the humiliating mess I've just caused in the middle of campus. I can hear people laughing in the background. It's like the dull roar of an ocean filling my ears.
Just when I think I might die of total shame, a deep voice finally rumbles, "I generally enjoy when a girl soaks me... but not like this."
I have to shake my head as his words slowly filter their way through my brain.
Wait a minute...
Did he... did he seriously just say that to me?
I have to be imagining the innuendo... right?
Embarrassed or not, my head whips up as my widened eyes snap to his.
Inhaling a sharp breath, it gets stuck in my throat before I pretty much swallow my tongue. If I hadn't already been stunned into silence by the whole god awful predicament now playing out, that face would have totally done me in because the guy standing before me is absolutely gorgeous.
He makes Lexie's boyfriend, Dylan, look like some hideous troll in need of a bridge to hide under.
Tousled inky black hair paired with the most brilliantly vibrant turquoise colored eyes I've ever seen. Frozen in place, I’m unfortunately powerless to look away. As I continue studying the unique hue of his eyes, I realize they hold a knowing smirk.
As if the coal black hair and bright blue-green eyes weren't enough of a showstopper, I can't help but notice that his lashes are long and thick enough to make any woman gnash her teeth in jealousy. High cheek bones and beautiful full lips complete the picture.
Hmmm... that perfect cupid's bow of a mouth looks to be firmly set into a knowing grin as well.
Even though I'm finding it rather difficult to look away from his stunning face, my eyes slowly fall to his wide, strapping chest which is highlighted rather nicely by an incredibly tight fitting red cotton t-shirt that hugs him in all the right plac
es.
As if this guy has any wrong places...
Because, trust me, he doesn’t.
I'm seriously starting to feel light headed over here. Like I need to sit down and put my head between my knees just so I can breathe through this whole ordeal. That’s when I notice the huge brown stain marring that perfectly chiseled chest of his. His jeans, which seem to be riding rather low on his lean hips, are also dripping with my chilled coffee as well.
This feels like one of those horrendous first-day-of-school nightmares that people jolt awake from in an icy cold sweat. Then, once they realize it's nothing more than a terrible dream, they fall back against their pillows in relief.
Except this is actually happening to me.
Which makes it, like, a thousand times worse.
I'm just about to open my mouth and stutter out yet another lame apology, when I hear, "Hey, King, what the hell happened to you?"
Hearing those words thankfully breaks the strange spell that has fallen over me at the sight of him as I blink my eyes a few times before giving my head just a bit of a shake. I’m hoping the movement will somehow jump start my brain into action. That’s when I realize this little incident is drawing a whole lot of unwanted attention. Thank god I'm wearing huge sunglasses that cover my eyes and face. Otherwise this guy would get a good look at me.
Anonymity is the only thing getting me through this moment.
"I-I... maybe I have a napkin in my bag." Not that a napkin or Kleenex is going to do anything to clean up that drippy mess. But it's the only thing I can think of. Other than run away and never see this gorgeous guy ever again. Which is a shame. As I slide my phone into my bag, I start rummaging around in it.
But it's a pit in here. My fingers come in contact with books, a calculator, an extra pair of tights for dance class, a few hair bands (also for dance class), a pair of ballet shoes (yep, you guessed it- dance class), chap stick, hand lotion, sanitizer, my wallet, a protein bar, pain medication, a tampon...
Apparently I have everything except something to help clean him off.
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart."
Well, I have to hand it to the guy... he's definitely taking this like a champ. If someone had spilled an entire drink on me, I'd be pissed as hell.
My eyes lift just in time to see him whip off the snug fitting t-shirt leaving an amazingly bare chest in its place. My mouth instantly dries as my sunglass hidden eyes widen before licking over every exquisite tanned inch of him.
Oh.
My.
God.
Someone must have chiseled this guy from marble. It takes everything within me not to reach out and slowly stroke my hands over him. Because that's exactly what I want to do.
And maybe lick him as well.
Yes... I definitely want to run my tongue over his lustworthy pectorals.
And those abs...
Six pack?
Ha!
Try an eight pack on for size.
This guy's definition is literally amazing.
As someone who uses their body for artistic expression, I can certainly appreciate the utter beauty of a well sculpted form.
God, can I...
"See something you like, gorgeous?"
Even when that cocksure tone hits my ears, I can't stop my eyes from eating him up. He uses the now wadded t-shirt to wipe away some of the wetness that has trickled down his stomach.
Yes, I'm definitely feeling woozy.
And it's not the jet lag that has my brain taking a mental pause either.
As much as I'm having my very own private moment with this guy's amazing body, I can't help but become aware of the catcalls and whistles now coming from all directions. Glancing slowly around me, I realize there are pockets of girls who have also stopped to admire the bare chested Adonis in front of me.
The tips of my ears reignite with heat. Wanting to distance myself from the calamity, I take a hasty step backwards.
Then another one.
"I really am sorry," I mumble again, all the while continuing to back away from him. He's just on the verge of opening his mouth when I suddenly turn and bolt down the wide sidewalk. As I do, I can't resist throwing one last look over my shoulder. Our eyes lock for just a moment before he's swallowed up by a surging crowd of onlookers.
But still his blue-green colored eyes stay fastened on mine as I hightail it to my ten o'clock class which I’m now late for. Not that there's anything good about what just occurred back there, but I'm sure as hell wide awake now. I suppose that's an unexpected bonus regarding the disaster I'm currently sprinting away from. Raising a hand to my cheeks, I realize they're still burning with humiliation.
The only thing I can do is shake it off and move on with the rest of my day.
Barnett has about twenty thousand students so the chances of running into that guy again are slim to none. At least that's what I keep telling myself because it makes me feel decidedly better.
It takes all of five minutes for me to bust through the heavy doors of Adler Hall which is one of the business buildings here on campus. I glance at my schedule. Room 305. Quickly I jog up two flights of stairs before heading down a long echoing corridor until I finally find the room. It's a small class. Probably around twenty-four students since this is a higher level business course.
Luckily, the professor is still talking with a student at the front of the room and hasn't officially started class. Breathing out a heavy sigh of relief, I slide into a desk at the far side of the room and drop my bag to the floor before repositioning my sunglasses on top of my head. I'm winded and still feeling frazzled by what just happened with that guy.
But that's over with now. Other than to fantasize about that amazing chest of his (probably late at night when I'm feeling sexually frustrated), I never want to think about him or the whole mortifying incident ever again.
As far as I’m concerned, it never happened.
As Professor Paulson begins class, I take out my laptop and start typing away. Fifteen minutes into it, my pulse has finally settled and I'm no longer thinking about spilling an entire drink on some unsuspecting stranger when the door to the classroom creeks open and in strolls Mr. Abs of Steel himself. Eyes bulging out of my head, I actually do a double take because I can't believe it's really him. The entire class turns to stare. Even the professor halts her lecture mid-sentence.
Unconsciously I slump in my chair before subtly shielding my face in a lame attempt to hide even though I know there's absolutely no way in hell he'll recognize me. I mean, I had on huge sunglasses that practically swallowed up my entire face. And he’s not even looking in my direction.
I wait for the professor to lay into him for disrupting her class. Carefully peeking through my fingers, I notice he's now wearing a bright blue t-shirt and his denim has been changed as well. Which probably means that him being late to class is entirely my fault.
Thankfully he's still looking at the professor, not me. I'm clear across the room parked near the windows several rows over from where he's standing.
"Sorry, Dr. Paulson, I was delayed on the way over."
I’m going to wager that this is the part where Dr. Paulson rather embarrassingly rips him a new one in front of the entire class. I almost cringe waiting for it to happen because obviously I’m the one to blame for his tardiness. Not that I'll be apologizing any time soon. Because I don't plan on conversing with this guy ever again.
My entire body tenses as I wait for her to make some humiliating example out of him to scare everyone else into being prompt for the rest of the semester.
Wait for it…
Here it comes…
Much to my surprise, Dr. Paulson going off the deep end in a scary tirade revolving around promptness and respect never happens.
Slowly my brows draw together in confusion.
Because the woman almost looks like...
Um... is she... is she actually blushing?
That can’t be.
For goodne
ss sake, our professor has to be at least forty. If not older. I squint as if I can't quite believe what I'm seeing. Yep, she's definitely blushing like some kind of tween coming face to face with one of the dudes from One Direction. Now she's tucking a stray piece of mousy brown hair behind her ear as she shifts from one orthopedic shod foot to the other.
"Don't worry about it, Mr. King. See me after class and I'll get you caught up to speed on what you missed."
In response, he dazzles her with a full blown smile. Even though the look isn't directed at me, I'm embarrassed to admit that my panties instantly flood with heat. I think a good number of the females sigh in response as well.
"Thanks, Dr. P." He gives her a little wink. “You’re the best.”
This guy is totally shameless.
Unbelievable.
Again I cover my face as he glances around the room before sauntering up the first row closest to the door and parking himself near the front. All the girls in his general vicinity gravitate towards him as if he has some kind of magnetic pull. All the guys give him fist bumps and back slaps.
It's all a little ridiculous.
Who the hell is this guy anyway?
"You don't know who Roan King is?"
Surprised, I turn towards the girl sitting in the row directly across from me. Unless this chick is a mind reader, I must have muttered the question out loud. Silently I shake my head.
She gives me an odd look like I must have crawled out from under a rock just to attend this class. Which prompts me to say with just a touch of defensiveness, "I did a study abroad program last year. I just got back to town yesterday."
Apparently this makes perfect sense and I am no longer a huge loser who hides under rocks.
"That’s Roan King, a senior. He's a football playing god who red shirted his freshman year. But he was such a stud on the field, that he's been a first string wide receiver ever since he was a sophomore." She leans towards me as if she's about to reveal top secret information no one else on campus is privy to. Getting caught up in the moment, I angle my body towards her as if I'm all ears. Which apparently I am.
King of Campus Page 2
