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It didn’t help. He forgot everything while her memory lives on in my mind. What was her name? What did he do to her? Did he kiss her like he kissed me? Tell her she was stunning like he complimented me? I’m sure he uses the same lines on women over and over again because it works. All he has to say is his name—again, he admitted that to me as well—and women fall at his feet.

We are pathetic, silly creatures who fall for a man just because of his looks, money and power. It’s horrible.

I get through the test—it was easy, I aced it—and go to mysecond class, which is English 101. The standard first year class we’re all forced to take to ensure we have the writing skills to get through the rest of college. One of my strongest skill sets is researching and writing papers so this class is easy for me. The guy who sits next to me every single day and tries to get my attention on a constant basis, though? He’s struggling.

Our professor hands back the most recent papers we turned in and I smile when I see the bold A circled at the top, along with the comment “So insightful!” written below it.

“You kick ass in here,” the guy says, sounding miserable.

I glance over at him, noting the C- written on top of his paper. “Thank you?”

He takes the paper and crumples it in his hand before shoving it in his backpack. “I need to focus.”

“Why can’t you?” I probably shouldn’t engage in conversation with him, but I can’t help myself. I’m curious.

“You’re a complete distraction.” He grins at me.

I roll my eyes at him. “Come on, now. I’m not going to take responsibility for you failing this class.”

“I’m not failing.” He rests a hand against his chest like I offended him. “I’ve got a solid C in here.”

“That’s kind of bad.” I wrinkle my nose.

“Says the star student.”

“I don’t know about that?—”

“Didn’t I see you at the Alpha Squared house Friday night?”

His quick change of subject leaves me dumbstruck for a moment.

He nods, his dark brown hair flopping across his forehead and he swipes it out of his eyes. “I did. You were talking to the prez in his inner sanctum.”

“His inner sanctum?” I frown.

“Yeah. No one is allowed in that section of the house. You have to be invited in. He has—criteria, is what he calls it.”

I remember him telling me about criteria, but it was allspecific to me. “We were just talking.” I shrug, trying to play it off.

“Yeah?” He sounds hopeful, and I nod my answer. “Good. Because if you’re with him, I know I don’t have a chance.”

“I am definitely not with him.” The words spill out of me rapidly and now it’s his turn to frown. “Seriously. I don’t think he dates anyone.”

“I know. That’s why I was shocked to see him talking to you for like…hours. I was also jealous.” He’s smiling again and I wonder how he’s so at ease with confessing all to me. I would never. “I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for weeks.”

“We’ve been in school for a little over a month,” I remind him.

“Right. And I’ve been trying to talk to you every day we’re in this class and you act like I don’t exist.”

I immediately feel bad. It’s not like I was ignoring him on purpose. I just get too into my own head sometimes and tend to ignore everything—and everyone—around me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to treat you like that.”

“It’s cool.” He leans back, sprawling in his desk chair, and I take him in. He seems tall—it’s hard to tell since he’s sitting down—and he has dark hair and eyes. He dresses decently—today he’s in a black hoodie and jeans. Black and white Nike Dunks on his feet, which Elise would call a red flag because she doesn’t trust any guy who wears Dunks—weird, I know—but I’m going to let that one tiny fault pass.

“What’s your name?” I ask because it’s the least I can do after ignoring him for the past five weeks.

“Tim.”

“I’m Sinclair.”