Page 32 of Beyond the Lines (Pine Barren University #1)

eighteen

DECLAN

Ben Mitchell is a fucking dead man.

The thought explodes through my mind like napalm, burning away everything else—the party, the music, the scattered cards on the floor, and everything except Lea sitting there in her underwear as Ben fucking Mitchell stares at her with the smuggest grin I’ve ever seen.

I’d been having a good night until ten seconds ago. Pizza with Linc and Maine, then pool at O’Neil’s where I ran the table three games straight. I was headed home when Linc convinced me to swing by this party so he could “accidentally” bump into some girl from his math class.

“Come on,” he’d said. “Thirty minutes, tops.”

Now here I am, frozen in the doorway while my vision narrows to a tunnel focused entirely on Lea. The rational part of my brain is desperately trying to understand what I’m seeing. I know Lea doesn’t do this kind of thing. But it’s happening, right in front of me, and I can’t process it.

I know exactly who Ben Mitchell is. Everyone on campus knows Ben Mitchell.

Senior on the swim team with more red flags than a Chinese Communist Party parade.

Keeps a literal tally of freshmen conquests in his dorm room—a fact that’s somehow become a twisted point of pride rather than the disgusting behavior it actually is.

I’ve had a good week since that moment in the bathroom—worked out some things in my head, gotten my game back on track on the ice, and even managed a breakthrough with one of my paintings.

I even thought I had a handle on this whole Lea situation. I’ve given her space, because she needed it, but also texted her to tell her I’m free and willing to talk whenever she’s ready—either at our project meet-up tomorrow, or sooner.

I’ve even planned exactly what I wanted to say when the time is right.

But seeing her like this with him changes everything.

Ben finally notices me, his eyes meeting mine over Lea’s head. There’s a flash of recognition, then satisfaction. Like he’s won something. He actually has the nerve to smirk at me, then lean in closer to Lea, who still hasn’t turned around.

That’s when Lea finally turns, her eyes widening as she sees me. For a split second, something like panic flashes across her face before it hardens into defiance, a look I’ve seen a few times from her in the past few weeks.

My throat goes dry. Even as anger churns through me like acid, I can’t tear my eyes away from her. She locks eyes with Ben, unhooks her bra, and exposes her chest to him and everybody else.

She tilts her chin up, shoulders back, and refuses to cover herself even as he—and I—stare at her. She’s beautiful—all smooth olive skin and perfect curves—and the sight of her hits me like a punch to the solar plexus .

“See something you like, Andrews?” Ben calls out, and I swear I almost black out from rage.

I take a step forward, not entirely sure what I’m planning to do but knowing it involves Ben’s face and my fist in very close proximity. Thankfully, Em jumps up between us, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around Lea.

“OK!” she announces, way too brightly. “I think we’re about done with cards for tonight!”

Lea clutches the blanket around herself, but finally she turns to look at me, eyes blazing. Suddenly, the girl I’d planned to lay out my feelings to is glaring at me like I did something wrong. Like I’m interrupting her good time.

And maybe I am.

But I want her to choose.

To be with me, or not. But she shouldn’t have the choice made for her by a douchebag who’s clearly plied her with way too much booze, to the point where even her friend Em is clearly worried about her.

Fury bubbling in the pit of my stomach, I shoot a glance at Linc that says ‘cover me’, and he nods back. I know he’s got my back if anyone tries to interfere, and with that confidence I stride over to the sofa that Ben and Lea are sitting on.

Ben stands up, stepping protectively in front of Lea. Like he has any right to protect her from anything. “You got something to say, Andrews?”

“I do.” I take another step forward. “How about you pick on someone your age for once?”

“Jealous?” Ben laughs.

“Of you?” I scoff. “You know she’s Mike’s sister, right?”

His eyes narrow and he backs up a step. “Oh, shit…”

“I can make my own decisions.” Lea snaps, standing. The blanket is wrapped around her like a towel, but it doesn’t hide the angry flush on her chest and neck.

“Can you?” I ask, glancing meaningfully at the scattered cups around her. “Because right now, it looks like you’re making some pretty shitty ones.”

Her eyes flash dangerously, and I can see tears welling in them. “Fuck you, Declan. You don’t get to judge me.”

“I’m not judging you.” I shrug. “I’m just wondering if you know what you’re getting into. Or who is trying to get into you, more precisely.”

“And what exactly am I getting into?” she challenges.

I glance at Ben. “Ask him about his freshman scorecard. I’m sure he’d be happy to explain where you fit in.”

Ben’s face goes red. “That’s a campus legend, man, it’s bullshit?—”

“Is it?” I step closer. “Because Maine knows a guy on your floor who’s seen it. Names, dates, ratings, social media links, and photos. Very classy.”

Lea’s expression falters for the first time, her gaze shifting to Ben. She opens her mouth to speak, but can’t manage any words. Em moves closer to Lea, whispering something in her ear. Lea nods, then squares her shoulders.

“I’m leaving,” she announces, gathering her clothes from the floor, still clutching the blanket around her.

“Right behind you,” Em says, scooping up their clothing, then giving me a look I can’t quite interpret before following Lea to the door.

“Nice job, asshole,” Ben mutters, shaking his head as he watches them depart. “Way to ruin a good thing.”

Something in me snaps. I step right into his space. “If I ever see you near her again, Mike and I will make sure they won’t find enough of you to bury.”

“And me!” Linc chimes in, helpfully.

His eyes widen slightly. Good. He believes me. “Whatever, man. She came on to me. Not my fault you can’t keep your girl happy.”

“She’s not my—” I cut myself off, because explaining my complicated non-relationship with Lea to this douchebag isn’t worth the oxygen.

Instead, I turn and head for the door.

Outside, the air hits like a slap to the face. Lea is halfway down the sidewalk, struggling to pull her jeans on under the blanket while Em steadies her. It’s like watching a drunken walrus wrestle with denim.

“Lea, wait,” I call out, jogging after her.

She whips around, fuming, and nearly losing her balance. “Go fuck yourself.”

Maybe I deserve that for the scene I just caused, but damn if I’m going to apologize for keeping that asshole out of her pants. It might mean I never get to tell her what I wanted to—that I have feelings for her, and damn the consequences—but I have to try.

“Just hear me out,” I say, catching up to them. “Two minutes of your time, then I’ll leave you alone forever if that’s what you want.”

“I want that right now,” she snaps, finally getting her jeans secured. “I don’t want you here, Declan…”

But then Em looks between us, says something in Lea’s ear that gets her to cool down a little, then tells both of us, “I’ll be over there.”

Lea nods, and Em retreats to a bench about fifteen feet away—close enough to intervene if needed, far enough to give us privacy. And, finally, Lea turns to me, arms crossed over her chest, which is still only covered by the blanket .

“What could you possibly have to say that would matter to me, Declan?” she says. “I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life .”

“Just stay away from Ben Mitchell.” I shrug. “If you trust nothing else I say, trust that…”

She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Seriously? You burst in there, completely humiliate me, follow me outside, and that’s it ?”

I take a deep breath. “He’s?—”

“I’m a big girl, Declan. I was having fun. I was finally out of my damn head.” Her voice is steel, but there’s a waver underneath. “And I’ve dealt with heartbreak.”

The way her face falls slightly when she says it, a shadow passing over her features, makes my chest ache.

I know about Chris—the basics, anyway—but the look on her face makes me wonder if I belong in the heartbreak club too.

She’d certainly been upset when she left the bathroom, but maybe I’d mistaken why.

I’d thought that the moment had just been too overwhelming for someone who’s still clearly very fragile, but that when she simmered down a little she’d acknowledge the moment we had was… magical. But now I think that maybe I was wrong, and that she regrets it, and wants nothing to do with me.

She shivers, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself, and her breath comes out in little puffs that vanish into the dark. She starts to fumble with her top—a tank top that’s got no chance of warming her—but she seems to have left any sweater or jacket she had behind.

“Here.” I shrug out of my varsity jacket and hold it out. “Take it. ”

She eyes it warily, like I might be offering her a live grenade.

“It’s just a jacket, Lea. Not a marriage proposal.”

That gets a tiny smile—barely there, but it’s something.

She takes the jacket and awkwardly maneuvers into it while maintaining her blanket-shield with impressive dexterity.

It’s not like I haven’t seen all of her before, in the bathroom or even just now at the party, but I give her the chance to bundle up.

“What do you want from me, Declan?” she asks once she’s bundled up. “Why are you being so protective?”

The words rise before I can stop them. “Because you’re mine.” I pause, realizing how possessive that sounds. “Or… I want you to be.”

It’s not quite the speech I had planned for our project meeting, but it’s out of the bag now. I watch her face, hoping for—I don’t know what. A sign. Any fucking hint that she feels a fraction of what I feel when I look at her or talk to her or think about her.

Instead, she scoffs, looking down at her feet.

And I’ve got my answer.

Just like that, whatever hope I’d been nursing since that moment in the bathroom shatters like ice on asphalt. I’ve decided I want her, and built up the courage to say so even though she’s ignored my texts and shown me no interest in return, and landed flat on my face.

I’m such an idiot.

What did I expect?

That she’d throw herself into my arms?

After everything?

“I get it,” I say, my voice embarrassingly rough. “I’ll talk to Professor Lucas. Ask her to reassign one of us for the project. You can keep the jacket, I’ve got a few.”

She doesn’t respond, and I can’t bear to look at her face any longer. I turn away, mentally calculating the shortest route back to my apartment, where I can lick my wounds in private. I’ve taken exactly two steps when I feel her hand close around my arm.

Before I can react, she pulls me around, surges up on her toes, and presses her lips to mine.