Page 4

What the fuck is happening to me?

“Alright, why don’t I head back with you? I gotta get some homework done, and your Wi-Fi is better than the dorm’s.” Nathan takes my empty coffee cup from my hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can.

“Thanks. Yeah, you can come over. I’m hanging with Lena later, though,” I tell him. We’re already walking away from the event, as it’s likely going to last until the evening and neither of us are interested in sticking around that long. College hosted events without alcohol or PDA? Not exactly our scene. I’m the last one to be making out at a party, but there’s certainly an appeal to being able to if I want.

“You still haven’t fucked yet?” Nathan asks.

I roll my eyes. “We’ve…gone pretty far, just not all the way,” I remind him. “Not that it matters.”

“Of course it matters. She’s Lena Muzzo.” He draws out her name like she’s a Hollywood celebrity.

“Why do you even care, man?” I ask him as I lead him to my car.

Nathan laughs a big, boisterous laugh as he tries to open the passenger side door of my Jeep, but I haven’t unlocked it yet.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve been so uptight since you and Laura broke up in tenth grade. This is the first chick you’ve been with longer than three months. You’re exhausted from studying andalways have a stick up your ass lately. You need some fuckin’ pussy.”

I unlock the car, and Nathan gets in before I do. My brow is furrowed in irritation as I get in the driver’s side and shove my key in the ignition. When I look over at him he’s grinning at me, clearly amused by my annoyance.

I put my seatbelt on and wait for him to as well.

“Shut up.”

2

DANTE

Ever since that dork ran into me with his coffee, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I’d been ready to ream his ass for not paying attention to where he was going before I heard his voice—that polite and slightly nervous tone. It’s intriguing to me, but even more so is the way his eyes flared with irritation when he stood up to me.

And the way his neck and face went pink when I told him I wanted him on his knees…I wasn’t kidding, not even a little, but his reaction makes me even more interested in putting him there.

I need to know who he is. He knows who I am, something I shouldn’t be surprised by after all this time, but I don’t know anything about him.

Aside from the fact that his soft green eyes would—will—look fucking fantastic looking up at me from the ground.

Whether that’s with my cock in his mouth remains to be seen.

Of course, today is the day I attempt to focus on homework. If I don’t at least get a passing grade, I’ll get kicked out of school and my family will have my ass. All the shit I do for them, andthey still want me to deal with this college crap so that I can “manage the business better.”

As far as I’m concerned, all I need to do that is a gym membership and a steady supply of bullets.

I lose focus entirely on my work and slam the textbook closed before shoving it aside. “Fuck this.”

There’s gotta be some kind of party going on tonight that I can crash. I’m not part of any of the frats—pansy little shitheads—but they throw decent enough parties, and some of them even buy booze that’s not half bad. Plus, there will be plenty of tipsy, shirtless jocks for me to choose from…there’s something about putting one of them on their knees and listening to them whine that just bricks me up so fast.

Today it’s not the meatheads I’m interested in, though…

No, the clumsy blonde with manners is the one I can’t get off my mind.

He didn’t give me a last name, but that’s no trouble for me. A little searching through channels I shouldn’t have access to, along with looking through photos, and I know within fifteen minutes exactly who he is.

Ethan Moore.

The lanky biology major with a nearly spotless record is exactly who I’m looking for. One thing leads to another until I’m looking through his social media.

It’s all pristine, from pictures of perfectly framed sunsets to elegant handwriting on his homework, neatly placed on his desk with a mug of tea sitting nearby. His girlfriend, who I don’t even care to study too closely, is always tucked under one of his arms or wrapping her own around his waist. Her smiles are always wide and his are always conservative but warm—no kissing, no teasing of sex between them, no early morning selfies in bed under the covers, and nothing that even remotely matches my idea of a fervid college relationship. His social media gives theimpression of a straight and scholarly gentleman with a chick of the same kind on his arm—to the least imaginative person, anyway.

I sense something different.