And I did.
Britte would be no exception.
But I couldn’t ignore this spark between us. I couldn’t deny that we had this unbelievable chemistry. And I wanted to explore that. I wanted to see where it could take us.
I tried to walk away from her. I took the summer to get over her, and it didn’t work. She was inside my head and deep in my blood, making every other woman unappealing.
That was power over me I didn’t understand.
Maybe it was her that laid down the challenge first. She’d dared me to get over her when I clearly couldn’t. She’d kissed me with her wicked mouth and then asked me to stop.
I couldn’t.
At least, not yet.
If she wanted to be a challenge, then I would rise to the occasion. And I would make her rise with me.
Until we’d both had enough of each other. Until I flushed her from my system and got her out of my head.
Until I could think about something, anything else besides her.
Chapter Four
Britte
I stepped out of class, blinking my eyes at the bright sun hanging high over lush green trees. The autumn breeze had just turned crisp and cool, so the leaves hadn’t started to change yet, and the weather was still beautifully bearable.
I yawned and resisted the urge to stretch. My biology lab had been brutal. And long. And I wanted to fall on my bed face first and stay there for the next twelve hours.
Instead, I needed to grab something quick to eat, cram as much as I could before my anatomy quiz this afternoon and inject caffeine straight into my veins.
I loved this campus and the friends I’d made here. Ellie was like my sister from a different mister. That girl got me in ways very few people did.
But now she had a boyfriend.
And she was in love.
And it was ick.
And by ick, I meant…ugh. Because I couldn’t help what was happening to my heart. I felt like the Grinch when he suddenly realized that he could love again.
My heart that had previously been three sizes too small decided that it was done being lonely and wanted a man. Right now.
It was all gimme-gimme-gimme for love, and I didn’t have time for this shit.
I had a game plan.
I’d had a game plan since I was eight years old and realized if I wanted anything done, I was going to have to do it myself.
Like, graduate at the top of my class so I could go to a reasonable college with a reasonable enough medical program. Like, study my ass off and work hard and never stop working until I had the job I wanted with the paycheck I wanted and the life I wanted.
Of course, in my imagination, the husband that came with that life and all the little rugrats that had my great hair and his metabolism somehow just showed up the moment I crossed the finish line.
Like in my imagination, I crossed the proverbial finish line with all my ducks in a row and a massive paycheck held high over my head and my picture perfect family was just on the other side, cheering me on. My two point five kids were gorgeous in their matching outfits and perfectly shiny teeth. My husband was the same only more. Loving. Doting. Supportive. Faithful. His thoughts and his eyes never wandered to other women. He was always proud of me and never got resentful of my excessive work hours or social obligations I was always dragging him to.
But the reality wasn’t quite living up to my expectations.
I didn’t factor in having to actually work for the husband. Or even the boyfriend.
And if I was honest with myself, I wasn’t ready for any of that.
I had a biology degree with honors to nail down. MCATs to study for next year. Med school to finish. Again with honors. Then there was residency and boards and the whole finding a position I wanted in a hospital I wanted to work at.
Or private practice.
I hadn’t decided that part yet.
In my fantasy, my fake future husband always gave perfect advice when it came to this sort of decision.
But I also didn’t want to wake up at thirty, still a virgin with zero prospects on the horizon because no real guy was brave enough to face a second date with me.
And now that Ellie had this great life with her great boyfriend and all of their great extracurricular activities…this loneliness had taken root.
So I’d done what any impulsive, twenty-one-year-old college girl would do. I sat down and wrote a pros and cons list of all my prospective future husbands.
Not because I necessarily wanted to marry any of them. But because I couldn’t waste my time on someone that wasn’t at least worthy of consideration. And the list made me feel like I had some control over this whole crazy conundrum.
I was smart.
I knew what happened when a boy and a girl got together after hours.
Just ask my mom.
No seriously, ask her if you see her since I’ll never get the chance.
“B!”
My head snapped up, and I realized I had walked by the cafeteria without noticing it. Ellie stood ten feet down the sidewalk talking to our friend Jameson.
“Hey!” I smiled at her and tried to pretend I knew what I was doing with my life. “What are you doing here?”
She smiled at me. It was crooked and endearing and so Ellie. “Shopping. This is where I find all my hip style.” Her hand waved toward the school t-shirts hanging in the window of the Student Union.
I turned to Jameson. “And you’re here to stop her?”
“Wrong.” He stood up from the bench he’d been sitting on. “I’m here to help her. We’re in this twin phase right now. We’re going all matching. From here on out.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “The two of you, huh?”
Jameson nodded. “Obviously. People are always commenting on how similar we look. This is clearly the next step.”
Ellie nodded along with Jameson and stepped next to him. They looked nothing alike. Ellie was all dark hair, dark eyes; she was a petite girl. Jameson was tall and not tanned or dark in any way. His hair was an unruly auburn that worked for him because it was great freaking hair. His skin was not exactly pale, but not tanned either. And his eyes. They were so startling blue. It was like they glowed.
Ellie owned every part of her. But Jameson was all pieced together randomness that only worked because he was confident in his skin.
But to play along, I told them, “I get you guys confused all the time. Just last week I walked into my kitchen, and I was like ‘Holy crap! Jameson and Fin are making out like monkeys!’”
Ellie threw her head back and laughed, but Jameson cocked his head to the side and asked, “Uh, Britte? What do monkeys look like when they make out?”
I leaned forward. “Obviously, someone doesn’t watch enough National Geographic.”
His wide mouth lifted in a goofy grin. “Or maybe someone watches way too much National Geographic.”
I tried to think of something clever to say in response, but all I could think of was research…which was so pathetic I couldn’t let myself get away with it.
So instead, I winked at him and hoped that it came off as cool.
It didn’t.
Just so everyone is aware…it didn’t.
“So really, Britte, what are you doing here?” Ellie asked after the silence dragged on.
I looked back at the cafeteria. “Lunch.”
“Were you going somewhere?” She peered around my shoulder. “I mean, other than the cafeteria.”
“I got lost.”
Jameson quirked an eyebrow. “You got lost?”
Sighing deep enough that my toes vibrated, I explained. “I was lost in my head. I forgot where I was going.”
Ellie laughed again. “Oh, you poor, poor college student. Don’t you ever go to sleep?”
Through a yawn, I declared with conviction that my body was not feeling, “I can sleep when I’m dead!”
“Maybe food will help,” Ellie offered sympathetically. “We were going to g
rab something too. Want some company?”
“Yes, please.” I did an about face and Jameson fell into step next to me. When I looked back at Ellie, she had pulled out her phone and was busy texting with a silly smile on her face.
Fin.
It had to be.
“So what are you in the mood for, Nichols?” Jameson asked, pulling my attention back to him. “Pasta? Taco bar? Ice cream again?”
“That was one time.”
“But it was an impressive time.”
“Have you never seen a girl eat ice cream before?”
He gave me a sideways glance, and I could feel the doubt rolling off of him. “Not like that.”
I smiled at my feet. “Go big or go home.”
He lunged forward and grabbed the door for me. “Is that what you’re in the mood for today? Record breaking banana splits? Or those gross sandwiches Ellie always makes?”
“Burgerwiches?” He made a face, and I laughed. “That’s apartment food only. When we’re out of all other options.” I walked by him and breathed in the scent of his cologne. Jameson McKay was the kind of guy you breathed in. It couldn’t be helped. “But, I was actually thinking waffles.”
“Waffles?”
I turned around and grinned at him. “I’m in the mood.”
He had paused in the door to wait for Ellie to catch up to us and when he smiled back at me it was like a moment. Or it should have been a moment.
He had my complete attention. I stared into those bright blue eyes, almost too bright, and willed myself to work up some butterflies. Some nerves. Some…sweaty anxiety! Anything but this sense of platonic comradery that was as opposite of attraction as possible.
Instead, awkwardness swirled as my gaze became a little too intense and the silence stretched on between us with nothing else to joke about.
Ellie squeezed by Jameson and our bizarre-o staring contest finally ended. I looked down at my feet and breathed a sigh of relief.
Jameson was hot, no doubt. I liked him. He made me laugh. He had a solid future ahead of him. And he was best friends with my best friend’s boyfriend.
Double dates for life.
Other positives were he didn’t make me feel too hot. Or nervous. He didn’t get under my skin and drive me crazy. He didn’t have a terrible reputation for being a girl using skank monger. He didn’t seem to always know what I was thinking. Or what I wanted. Or that maybe I didn’t have it all figured out—because I did.
I totally did.
And best of all, he wasn’t Beckett Harris.
So winner winner, chicken dinner.
“Ready?”
I blinked, and Ellie and Jameson appeared again. “Sure. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Ellie raised both eyebrows. “You’re kind of spacy today, B. You okay?”
I chewed on my bottom lip and took a deep breath. “I’m tired,” I admitted. “My last lab kicked my ass. I need sustenance, or I might shrivel up and die.”
Jameson chuckled. “Well, let’s avoid the shriveling.”
Ellie linked her elbow with mine and spun me in the right direction. “And the dying.”
“You guys are real friends. You know that? Real friends.”
We laughed our way into the cafeteria. There was a process in which I had to swipe my lunch card and Ellie and Jameson had to pay for their lunch. Then it took a bit to move around the cafeteria stations and figure out exactly what it was that I wanted.
Which was waffles.
But I also thought I should add fruit since Ellie and I rarely splurged on fresh anything with our poor college student budget. And I grabbed some cucumbers and ranch. Say what you wanted about cafeteria food, but they made good ranch. I also grabbed two chocolate chip cookies, and extra whipped cream for my waffle.
Because dairy.
And protein.
I finally sat down across from Jameson and Ellie, promising myself I would run this off later. Ellie and I ran together daily. If it weren’t for her, my freshman fifteen would have evolved into a freshman fifty. And possibly a sophomore sixty. And junior…gigantic.
You got the point.
It had been a stressful year so far.
Ellie and I both ran competitively in high school. She was significantly faster than me, but I could kill her in long distance. That had been my thing. Cross Country was my jam.
Except now I ran just so I could eat cheeseburgers and waffles. So I was still technically running competitively. Only now it was with the scale.
Jameson coughed when he noticed my plate. His eyebrows raised and he said, “Wow, Britte, your lunch is really…”
“Well-balanced,” I supplied for him. “The word you’re looking for is well-balanced.”
“You can’t eat an entire bowl of whipped cream.”
Since I had a spoonful of it on the way to my mouth, I made a show of chomping down on it and sucking the spoon dry. I turned to face the voice of the naysayer, none other than Beckett Harris.
He loomed over me, all dark hair and tanned skin. I resisted the urge to close my eyes as I fought the erratic sensation beating in my chest.
This was how I knew he was the wrong choice… the bad decision. I couldn’t even begin to sort through my feelings or thoughts or intentions with him. My body jumped with lust and desire and something scorching hot. But my brain dug its heels in the ground and skidded to a stop.
I couldn’t deal with this on a regular basis.
I couldn’t even deal with it on a sporadic basis.
He was too much alcohol and lowered inhibitions. That was it. My rational, logical mind knew better.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
He slid into the seat next to me and reached across the table to steal one of Ellie’s fries. She slapped his hand with the back of her fork. He smiled, and it was because of Ellie, and it made my heart thump.
“I was on campus. Ellie texted that you were having lunch. Thought I’d swing by and say hi.”
“Hi!” Ellie said brightly.
Beckett waved back at her like a dork. “Hi, Ellie!” He turned to me. “Hi, Britte!”
Jameson snorted. “I don’t get a hi?”
Beckett looked at Jameson and practically hollered, “Hi, Jameson!”
I ate another bite of whipped cream.
Beckett’s elbow nudged mine. I ignored the warmth from his body heat and the soft feeling of his skin against mine.
It was an elbow’s bump for God’s sake!
“Waffles?”
I refused to look at him. “What does everyone have against waffles? They’re nutritious.” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “Ish.”
“Ish?”
“Well, they have nutrition.”
His lips twitched. “How’s your day?”
His question caught me off guard. I had been ignoring him since I ditched him at coffee. I expected him to bring that up or at least mention it. I really expected him to be irritated.
Instead, he seemed openly curious. My thoughts tumbled together until I ended up just answering him. “Fine. Better now.”
“Now that you have waffles?”
I smiled before I could talk myself out of it. “Waffles are pretty hard to beat.”
“I’m more of a pancake man.”
“Pancakes are okay,” I relented. “But I prefer the pockets.” I pointed at my huge Belgian waffle. “For the syrup. Pancakes just soak everything up and then you’re constantly re-syruping.”
Beckett’s lips twitched again. “Re-syruping?”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “I’m just being practical.”
“I’m just impressed with all your thoughts on breakfast food.” He reached over and snagged one of my cucumbers. “I feel like an amateur comparatively.”
I met his gaze and held onto the edge of the table. “You are an amateur. Sorry, Harris. I’m in the breakfast big leagues, and you’re still swinging in the minors.”
This time, his mouth brok
e into a full smile. It crinkled his eyes and stretched wide across his too handsome face. “Was that a baseball joke?”
I squirmed and struggled to keep my poker face. “I’m speaking a language you understand. Since you clearly don’t know your breakfast.”
His smile stayed in place. “Clearly.”
“So why are you here? On campus, I mean.” The question came out before I knew I wanted to know the answer. My heart fluttered, and my stomach dipped nervously. I busied myself with eating a big bite of waffle.
His voice dropped low as if he didn’t want to be heard. “I stopped by to visit my old coach.”
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “Miss him?”
He chuckled. “So much. I lie awake at night wishing I could call him.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “So you just stopped by to say hi?”
He fidgeted next to me, shifting his shoulders and suddenly seeming too big for the chair he sat on. “Yeah, sure. He had a couple of things he wanted to run by me. It was no big deal. I start my internship next week, so I had some time today.”
“Oh, right. The big fancy internship.” I turned and let my gaze float over him. “Hope you’re not planning on keeping that haircut. I’m pretty sure they frown on anything that doesn’t scream clean cut and douchy.”
His surprise laughter gave me a confusing sense of pride. “Are you calling Lennox a douche?”
I bit my lip. I hadn’t meant that. Ellie had shared that Beckett’s internship was with their oldest brother, Lennox’s company. It was some marketing firm that paid their people insane amounts of money. It made sense to me that Beckett would follow in his older brother’s footsteps and continue the family legacy of wealth.
I expected nothing less than for Beckett’s future to be filled with fancy suits and shiny shoes driving impractical sports cars and throwing money around like it’s candy.
Maybe my vapid opinion of him wasn’t exactly fair, but if he went to work at Lennox’s firm, then it was in the cards whether he intended it or not.
“I’m not calling Lennox a douche. I’m just saying he knows a lot of them.”
Beckett ran his fingers through his slightly too long hair and brushed it back from his face. His eyes twinkled when he said, “He can be a douche sometimes.”