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I lean back, settling in like a predator who knows exactly how long he can wait.

Fine. The after-class ambush it is. She can't ignore me forever.

The class dismisses and, right on cue, she’s the first one packing her shit away like the room’s on fire. Too bad I’m a six-foot-two roadblock.

“Excuse me,” she murmurs, her gaze glued to the floor. She refuses to give me even a millisecond of eye contact.

Graciously, because I can be a gentleman when it serves me, I stand, giving her an escape route. “I’m sorry about that, Savannah.” Her name tastes sweet on my tongue as I blast her with a million-watt smile that’s gotten me into more beds than I can count.

She doesn’t fidget, but I do catch the way her fingers curl into the sleeves of her oversized hoodie.

Rome U. Odd choice considering it’s not the actual college she attends and that college is across the country, but the logo is worn to hell and the holes look deliberate rather than desperate, so she probably thrifted for it.

“It’s okay.” Her voice is barely audible and she offers me a pathetic excuse for a smile before attempting to slip past.

Not so fucking fast.

“Are you coming to the study group tonight?” I ask, as if I give two shits about economics.

She stops but still refuses to look up at me. When I slipped one hundred bucks to that same idiot to switch study groups, I thought I’d finally cracked the code to get her talking. Boy, was I wrong. She doesn’t talk in it. Only focuses on her notebook and rushes to the computers straight after.

“Not tonight. I’m busy.” And by busy, she means she’s dancing at Behind Closed Doors . Though I wonder if she actually realizes I know that.

“Ah, that’s a shame.” I tap my chin, pretending to think. “Maybe I should speak to the rest of the group and see if we can change it to a more convenient time for you.”

Her head snaps up in surprise and for the first time today, she actually looks at me. Green eyes wide, panic pooling in them like I just threatened to expose her biggest secret.

She shakes her head so hard I’m worried she’ll give herself whiplash. “No. No. Please don’t change anything for me. I’ll be sure to make the next one. I just—” Her head drops again, her eyes crushing shut before she says, “I just need to cover my friend’s shift at the diner.”

Diner? Is that codeword for Burlesque Club, or is she working more than one job?

I nod, attempting casualness and probably failing spectacularly.

“No problem. I could take notes and send them to you if you’d like.

All I need is your email.” Fuck. I’ve officially become a simpering idiot.

Not only am I voluntarily sitting through mind-numbing study sessions just to breathe her air, but now I’m offering clerical services like I’m a pining secretary.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m okay.”

Why won’t she look at me for more than a few seconds?

“I’ll see you around,” she says, her voice a little shaky.

Savannah takes another step away, and I don’t like it.

“Are you busy now?”

She stills.

“Thought maybe we could grab lunch or a coffee.”

Slowly, she turns, blinking at me in shock and awe. “Lunch or coffee?”

“It’s on me,” I offer, knowing that’s the only way she’ll even consider it.

She’d never admit it, but Savannah is clearly surviving on ramen and desperation.

She rotates between three threadbare hoodies, all of which make her look like she’s playing dress-up in her dad’s closet.

Sure, she's tiny, but the way those things swallow her whole, you'd think she stole them from the football team's laundry.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip a little too hard. Almost like she’s fighting herself. Like she might actually say yes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Bolting from the room like I'm chasing her with an axe. For a second, I just stand there, dumbstruck. If I couldn't still smell the faint, sweet scent of her shampoo, I'd think I hallucinated her existence. But I didn't.

The first time I saw her is burned into my memory.

Her face. Her body. The way she looked at me.

I felt something I’d never felt before. She was lost, and it wasn’t just because she was on that stage.

There was more to it. There’s something deeper going on with her, and fuck me if I don’t want to be the one who catches her when she finally stops running.

“Are you staying for the next class?” Kinsey, the student TA, asks from the front of the room. Well, shit, I was staring at the door for so long, everyone else has already made their escape.

“Only if you want me to?” I throw her a wink as I pack up my things.

Kinsey watches me, unimpressed, and raises her hand, flashing me the diamond ring on her finger. “I’m taken.”

So am I.

Not officially—because the girl who’s hijacked my brain can barely stand to breathe the same air—but I’m planning on changing that. I just haven’t cracked the code yet.

My stomach grumbles as I leave the classroom and consider my lunch options since Savannah wholeheartedly rejected me.

I could hang out with the guys, but honestly, I’m reluctant.

Dash will be there, which means my sister will be glued to his side.

They’ll sit together, eye-fucking across the table and probably playing footsie underneath it.

And just like that, my appetite commits suicide.

I’m happy for my sister. I really am. Maybe if I repeat that lie enough times, I’ll start believing it.

No, wait. I actually am happy for her. She’s had a shitty time with guys and Dash is by far the most upstanding one I know.

She deserves a good guy, but then why am I still such an asshole about it?

I sigh, knowing the reason. It’s because I’m jealous.

Not only do I feel like I’ve lost my best friend, but my sister doesn’t need me either.

They’re in their perfect little bubble, and I’m just the asshole orbiting outside it.

Meanwhile, I’m pathetically obsessed with a girl who’d rather look at roadkill than make eye contact with me.

Is it me? Do I push people away?

I like to feel needed. To protect people, and here I am, trudging alone to my apartment because I have fuck-all to do and no one who gives a shit where I am.

I never thought I minded my own company until I had to actually endure it for longer than a commercial break.

I hate it. The silence is deafening. The solitude is driving me certifiable.

I need chaos around me to function. I need someone who won’t replace me the second something shinier comes along.

I need someone who won’t sleep with my sister behind my back.

Maybe it's not someone. Maybe I need a hobby. Something that won't interfere with hockey and my impending career. Something where I could use my hyperactive and needy energy without being judged.

A thought crashes into my brain like a wrecking ball, and memories of volunteering at the local dog shelter resurface.

I loved playing with those mangy mutts, and they're always desperate for help.

They said we could swing by whenever, so why not now?

I bet they could use an extra pair of hands, and is there a better way to spend my lunch break?

Yes. That's what I'll do. I'll help abandoned animals and my pathetic ego at the same time. At least then I'm doing something useful besides obsessing over a girl who looks at me like I'm contagious.