Page 16

“Len, are you hurt?”
I wipe at my tears and sniffle. “That’s a difficult question to answer.” My high-pitched voice cracks, like it’s at its breaking point. “Physically, I’m fine. Just fell.”
He reaches for my chin, and I twist it out of his grasp. He drops his hand to my knee, rubbing it. “You want to go back to the room? I can take you.”
I scramble to my feet, indignation sweeping through me with a healthy helping of distrust. “I don’t need your sympathy…boy I could never date.” I cringe. That was only supposed to be inside my head.
His brows knit together. “What?”
My face crumples. “Nothing. I need a moment. I’m going back to the room.”
Like a ninja, he rises to his feet and snatches my arm as I’m about to make my escape. “If this is about me showing up while you’re working, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know you would react this way. I won’t do it again. Promise.”
I yank my hand from his grasp. “It’s not about you.” I wipe furiously at my face while tears still fall.
“Then what is it?”
“Don’t you have a class to get to?” I snap, walking away.
I make a beeline for Knightley, power walking like I can escape Clark’s words swirling through my head. My bed calls to me. Throwing myself under the covers and sobbing the rest of the day sounds like the perfect plan. I’ll put onThe Notebookso I can really feel like shit.
Finally, I arrive at Knightley and trudge up the main steps while taking out my student ID. I swipe it, but it doesn’t read. Furious, I press the ID into the reader. Nothing happens again. I groan out in frustration, and suddenly, another card pushes mine out of the way and swipes instead.
Isaiah James’s picture stares back at me. He even looks good in his ID photo. Caramel-brown hair styled short, the sides shaved with longer hair on top, flopping over. Those sparkling brown eyes. I can imagine him charming the pants off whoever took the photo at the DMV.
Some people have it all.
His look is so effortless, yet ridiculously handsome at the same time. A bit of hair product and it’s as if he stepped off a magazine cover. Plus, hockey keeps his body toned and muscular. Add to that his tall frame, and he’s basically a god.
With the way Clark talks about me, Zaiah can’t even stand to look in my vicinity. “Thanks,” I mutter, then run for our suite to hide.
Luckily, his footsteps don’t follow.
After I shove the key into our main door, I don’t stop until I’m safely in my room. Dropping my bag in the middle of the floor, I go straight to my bed and face-plant the mattress.
Clark said those things with utter conviction.
“Len doesn’t date. Look at her.”
“Everything about her says she doesn’t care about the opposite sex.”
He doesn’t see me like I see him. Clearly. Not by a long shot. Rejection ripples through me with the aftermath of a tsunami.He practically described me as a troll. Maybe I should find a bridge to live under to spare everyone the burden of looking at me.
Shifting my mouth away from the sheets so I can breathe, I stay there until I convince myself to move again. Even then, I only exert myself enough to startThe Notebookon the TV I bought after one of my roommates commandeered the communal space, and then prop myself up against the headboard with the sheets pulled up to my chin. I’m not that far into it when the main door to the suite opens and closes. Muting the movie, I pray Zaiah goes to his room, but I have the luck of a bad penny today because his footsteps grow louder and there’s a knock on my door.
I swallow before answering, trying to appear unfazed. “I’m fine. I want to be alone.”
He doesn’t listen. He opens the door and strides inside, carrying a grocery bag with him. “Sorry, no can do.” He points to the clear plastic. “I need to know what flavor you like before they all melt.”
“What is it?” I ask as he moves closer. I glance into the bag and take in several pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.
“I wasn’t sure which you preferred. My sister is a Half Baked kind of girl, but I didn’t want to presume.”
I fish through the offerings. Half Baked is good, but I find myself pulling out the—
“Wait, let me guess.” Zaiah turns away, his eyes closed. “The cheesecake one?”
“No.”