by Marie York
He smirked. “Not anymore. I officially transferred last semester.”
“Here?” Dread filled my tone. College was my fresh start, away from the embarrassment of my youth and my time to party without the watchful eye of my brother’s best friend.
“You betcha.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and I did everything in my power to ignore how good it felt. “Now, what are the chances that you would choose the same school as me?”
I shrugged his arm off my shoulder and threw my hands up in defeat. “Clearly someone up there hates me.” I went to storm away, but Beckham walked in front of me, and grabbed each of my arms, holding me in place. Our eyes clashed, and I became a gooey mass of putty in his hands.
His gaze softened which only reminded me of the night he rejected me. “There was a time when we got along,” he said.
I didn’t say anything. He was right. Once upon a time, we talked about everything. Late nights when I couldn’t sleep, he’d always find me downstairs, and we’d spend hours talking about life, and our favorite movies. It got to the point where I would plan out rendezvouses with him, even when I was exhausted just so I could spend time with him.
It was innocent, and I knew now he probably thought of me more as a younger sister. So, when I threw myself at him like a rabid dog in heat on my sixteenth birthday, things changed, and the only person to blame was me.
He chucked my chin, sending a mix of sparks and annoyance through my body. “You can’t hate me forever.”
Beneath the softness in his eyes was a vulnerability that was raw and genuine, something I’d rarely ever seen. He was always hiding behind his charm, but this was different. It was almost as if, after all this time, the way I acted, like I despised him, actually bothered him.
The slightest hint of guilt found its way to my heart, and I smiled slowly and sincerely. “No, but I can try,” I joked.
He snaked his arm back around me. “That I can work with.”
“By the way, what’s going on with the hair?” I asked and made the mistake of running my fingers along the top of his head. My touch ran smoothly over the thick, soft strands and I imagined what it would be like to thrust my fingers into the silky tresses while in a haze of passion.
I pulled my hand back, and tucked it into my jeans, away from dangerous territory.
A disgustingly charming smile formed. “Chicks love it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, if you like that dirty hobo look.”
“This,” he ran his hand over the bun. “Is not dirty. Go ahead. Smell it.” He pushed his head toward my nose.
I grabbed the knob and playfully pushed him away. He didn’t let it deter him and continued to shove his hair near my face. I laughed at the absurdity. “I’m not going to smell your hair.”
“Just a sniff,” he said, with a sexy lift of his eyebrow, and I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks. “You know you want to.”
Damn it, I did. I leaned in, intending to take the quickest of inhales, but when the fresh scent with a hint of mint engulfed my senses, I was consumed with him.
He lifted his head back up, and a knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Told you. Chicks can’t resist the man bun.”
It wasn’t just the man bun though. It was him.
Chapter 3
Kennedy
Beckham insisted on walking me to class, and after all this time of avoiding him, planning my life around when he would stop by my house, I finally gave in. There was no use in trying to avoid him. As far as I was concerned, the campus wasn’t big enough, anyway. Besides, he always was good company.
The thought tugged at my gut. A flood of memories filled my mind of all the talks we shared, the laughs and even the moments of comfortable silence before it all went to shit because I wanted more.
Maybe I didn’t need to start fresh completely. A familiar face would be nice to see around. The only problem was, he was hotter than ever, and that one passion-fueled kiss we shared so long ago, pushed its way back to the front of my mind, and was currently playing on repeat.
I could still feel the soft press of his lips against mine, the way his hand grabbed my waist and held me close. The perfection of it all until he pushed me away, and not only ruined my birthday, but any dreams I had that we were meant to be together.
“What’s your schedule like?” he asked.
My eyes lingered on his luscious lips, replaying our kiss over and over. That damn pouty bottom lip was like a magnet. It pulled and drew me in, with a resistance that was near impossible to fight. If I could only just kiss him one more time… No! It would be a cold day in hell before that happened. I had enough of the memory to never want to experience a rejection from Beckham again.
I looked away and reached into my bag for my schedule. I unfolded the paper and concentrated on the list of classes.
“Let me see that.” He snatched the paper from my hands. “Sociology, Statistics, English 101, Art History and Western Civ. I forgot how awful the first semester is. You’ll be lucky if you can stay awake in any of them.”
I took my schedule back, stuffing it into my bag, and shrugged. “Art history sounds interesting.”
He pointed his finger at me and nodded. “You might actually like that class. Though, personally I liked Art History II better. Everything before that is all kind of boring.”
“Oh, good. So, what you’re telling me is, I’m will be living off of this.” I held my coffee cup up then took a sip. “Might need to find a sugar daddy to keep me caffeinated.”
His attention snapped to me, a fire burning in his hazel eyes.
“A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.”
“There are other ways,” he all but growled, and it was nice to see he still cared.
We walked up to the building, and Beckham held the door for me. “You should look into getting an IV drip. Then you won’t have to help some creepy guy live out his fantasy by taking care of you.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Until he wants you to send him pictures of your feet.”
I held my hand up. “Ew.” He knew I hated feet.
“You think that’s gross? I went mild. There are so many other possibilities. Lots of sickos out there with weird fetishes. Feet is the least of your problems.”
“Okay enough fetish talk,” I said.
“As you wish. Your class is this way.” He pointed to the right, and I followed behind him, taking a second to watch as he walked away. His jeans still sat perfectly on his hips, and his simple t-shirt still looked amazing as it strained against his muscles. He moved with a confidence new found confidence, not that he ever lacked in that department, but this was a little different. Something I imagined came with being comfortable in his place in the world.
Here away from my brother’s shadow, Beckham was free to be whoever he wanted to be. I loved my brother, but Nixon was a dominating presence who overpowered Beckham’s laid-back personality.
I needed to get away from Beckham before I foolishly threw myself at him again. I’d like to think that I had more self-control than that. Despite the warning signals my brain was giving, my brain was silenced by my body’s desires.
“Here it is.” He pivoted back around to face me and I purposely avoided looking at his eyes or his mouth.
“Thanks for showing me to my class. I’ll see you around.” I went to walk past him, but he moved with me, blocking my way.
“You’re dismissing me so soon?” he asked.
My eyebrow cocked. “I have class.”
He grabbed his chest in an over dramatic gesture that had me shaking my head and laughing. This was the man I loved for so long. “You break my heart,” he said.
Two girls walked toward us, giggling and ogling him. I didn’t think I was the jealous type, and I had no claim on Beckham, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to wrap my arms around his neck and stake my claim.
“Hi Becks,” the brunette with too much makeup
on, cooed as she paraded between us. She winked her over-mascaraed lashes at him before disappearing into the class.
His hand was still on his chest as he looked back at me. “Another piece just broke. Are you that cruel?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ll survive.” If he wanted to talk about breaking hearts, I was pretty sure I beat him in that department. Getting left practically naked and alone at sixteen was like someone reached into my chest and ripped my heart out, threw it on the floor, and pounced on it.
“See you after class then,” he said.
I sidestepped him, but he managed to get in front of me again like an unmovable wall. Though, one good swift kick to the nuts would definitely get him out of my way. It was tempting, but I was a college girl now, and I didn’t resort to such childish antics. No matter how tempting.
“I think I got it from here. You don’t need to show me around.”
His hand rested on my shoulder, sparking a line of electric sparks up my arm and into my chest. He bent his head, waiting for me to look at him. I resisted, but I could only resist for so long. I eventually blinked up, catching his beautiful gaze. “But I want to.” he said, and I had to bite back the smile.
If Beckham wanted to spend time with me, then sure, what the hell. It’s not like I had anything to lose like my dignity. I’d already lost that a long time ago. “Fine,” I said with a wink, and strutted into class.
My phone vibrated in my bag as soon as I took my seat. I reached for it, and a new text from Nixon flashed across the screen. I swiped my phone.
Nixon: Did your chaperone find you okay?
My heart sunk at the words. Beckham wasn’t showing me around because he wanted to show me around. No. He was doing it because of my damn brother. Of course. How stupid could I be?
Frustration seeped in as I stared at the text. Nixon was always in my business. He could never just leave me alone and let me do my own thing. Even when he went away to school, he still got Mom and Dad to not let me do things. He acted like my goddamn father, and it pissed me off. I should’ve known that going away to college meant he’d still try to find a way to control my life, and how convenient that his best friend just so happened to attend that same school as me.
Kennedy: I’m an adult. I don’t need a chaperone.
I hit send and tried not to grind my teeth. My friends thought it was so cute that Nix was so overprotective of me…if they only knew how seriously inconvenient it really was.
Nixon: Says the girl who passed out drunk in the bushes.
Ugh! For crying out loud it was the night of my graduation and I was celebrating with my friends. It’s not like he never got drunk. I remembered the night I lured Beckham in my room and finally got to kiss him. The slight taste of beer on his perfect mouth. He had come from Nix’s room. I wasn’t stupid. The two of them got drunk in there all the time. My brother was a fucking hypocrite.
Kennedy: Like you never did anything stupid. Give me a break.
Nixon: I never got caught. No proof. It might as well have never happened.
The professor walked in and I watched as he walked behind his desk and placed his suitcase on top. This was my first college class. I needed to pay attention and not argue with my brother who was halfway across the freaking country.
Kennedy: Class is starting and I’m done with this conversation. Goodbye.
Nixon: Tell Becks I say hi.
Kennedy: You can tell him right when you tell him I don’t need a chaperone.
Nixon: Sure… Now go learn something.
It was official. I wanted to kill my brother.
***
Class let out, and I raced for the door, hoping if Beckham was serious about showing me to my next class, I’d be able to make a getaway before he got here. Now that I knew my brother was once again meddling in my life, I was pissed. I should have known. Why would I think Beckham would want to spend time with me? In his eyes, I was probably still that sixteen-year-old kid. I was an idiot to think he finally saw me as anything else. I should’ve known better.
I barely had a foot out the door before I heard my name float across the hallway in that beautiful, sexy voice. It was like a lasso, tying around me, and pulling me back to him. I knew he was only pretending to take an interest in me as a favor to my brother, but unfortunately it didn’t change anything. I still had a hard time resisting him.
He had this magic over me I couldn’t explain. Which is the reason after the incident, I made sure I wasn’t home when I knew he would be around, and if I was, I hid safely in my room. He was like a walking poster of my worst rejection. Over time, the pain and humiliation of my failed seduction faded, but the memory was still shining brightly in my mind. It amazed earlier I could ignore it. But now, with him walking toward me with that gorgeous smile and confident stride, it all came flooding back.
“How was your first class?” he asked, with a sugar-coated smile that I was done falling for.
I was sick of hiding. Tired of feeling like a pitiful little girl every time he was around. I wasn’t her anymore. I left her back home.
I stood tall, squaring my shoulders. “Why do you care? I wouldn’t think caring or even talking to me is a part of the arrangement you and my brother have.”
Beckham ran a hand over his chin and winced. “Nix told you.”
“Yes, Nix told me. And I will tell you exactly what I told him. I don’t need a goddamn chaperone, so fuck off.” I stormed away from him, wanting, no, needing to put as much distance between us as I could.
A large hand wrapped around my wrist and the warmth spread through me like a cozy campfire. Beckham was the only person who could affect me with a single touch. “Kennedy, hang on.”
I took a deep breath, and swallowed down the lovesick little girl who wanted to cower to his every demand. I wasn’t going to do it. Not anymore. So, I didn’t stop. I kept walking. The only problem was, he didn’t stop either. His hand tightened on my wrist as he kept pace with me.
“You know you can’t outrun me, right?” he said, with a stupid twinkle in his eye.
“No, but I can sure as hell try.” As soon as the words were out, I ran, ripping myself from his grip.
“So, this is how you want to play. Fine,” he yelled after me. I expected him to layoff, and go find some other poor sap to tagalong with. Instead, he jogged up beside me as if he was out for a Sunday stroll while I swore, I was breaking records.
“Leave me alone,” I demanded, surprised that more people weren’t stopping and staring at us.
“Not until you talk to me.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Too bad for you.” His arm snaked around my stomach, and he pushed his weight into me, knocking me off balance. He held me close, as we tumbled to a grassy knoll, me landing on top of him while he took the brunt of the fall. “I’m not done talking,” he breathed out.
He grabbed my waist, and rolled me under him, his arms taut on either side of my head as he held his weight off of me. Green and gold specks shimmered in his amused eyes, and I was a goner. I laid there, a prisoner to his perfection.
His finger grazed my forehead, and he pushed my blonde hair out of my face. Goosebumps prickled my skin at the gentleness of his touch. We stayed like that for a long moment.
“You’re adorable when you get mad.”
I inhaled a shocked, ragged breath. His finger moved, tracing the contour of my face. My tongue dabbed at my bottom lip, and his eyes lingered on that spot.
A debate raged in his irises, and I wanted to settle it. I lifted my head, closing the gap between us. His jaw ticked as he moved his head toward me. Our lips were a whisper away when he rolled off of me.
He rejected me again and I was stupid enough to even try. Not even a few minutes in his presence and every promise I made to myself about never throwing myself at him again vanished.
He ran a hand over his face. “Sorry.”
Anger boiled inside of me and not just at his rejection but at my own inab
ility to resist him. “Why? At least you didn’t actually kiss me this time,” I snapped and stood up as I wiped the grass from my jeans.
“Kenny,” he said, so softly I barely heard him.
I held my hand up. “Don’t.” I picked my books up off the ground from where they fell out of my bag and shoved them back in. “Just leave me alone, okay?” I turned back to him, hand on hip, trying my best not to fall victim to the tender way he looked at me.
He didn’t argue. Didn’t say a word. He just nodded.
I walked away and didn’t look back.
Chapter 4
Kennedy
Erica pulled on a sweater as she gave herself a once over in the mirror. “You sure you don’t want to come with me?” she asked.
“I’m sure.” The idea of sitting in a coffeehouse for open mic night didn’t exactly thrill me. Not to mention, the mood I was in, listening to sappy music and depressing poetry sounded like a form of torture. I’d rather stay cuddled up in my bed and watch Netflix.
“You’re missing out. There’s going to be a lot of hot guys there. I hear they all hang around to pick up girls.”
It was tempting. Maybe another guy was exactly what I needed to get over Beckham. I just wasn’t ready to. I’d give myself one night to wallow in self-pity, and then next time Erica went out, I’d happily tag along.
“Next time. Promise.”
She made a slow show of leaving. “Last chance.” She stepped over the threshold and pulled the door with her.
“Have fun!” I laughed as she disappeared behind the door.
I snuggled into my comforter and turned my laptop on. Before it fully booted up, there was a knock at the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I assumed Erica had forgotten something, and couldn’t find her keys.
I jumped up and flung the door open. Beckham’s gorgeous eyes greeted me. A sheepish smile spread across his face as he held up a bottle of orange soda, and Baked Lays potato chips, my favorites. He remembered. Of course, he did. Rejection or not, he knew me, probably better than most.
