“A rule?”
Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!
The sweater was too constricting all of a sudden. I felt like I was being choked to death. It was too close to my neck. Hitting the speaker button, I flung my phone onto the bed and tugged at my sweater.
“Yes. Guys I know don’t come here. Ever.”
“Any guy? Are you serious?”
Pulling off the sweater hadn’t helped. I still felt like I couldn’t breathe. Scrambling around, I grabbed for a tank top. It was see-through. I almost tore it as I pulled it off. “Yes. Any guy. Especially guys like you.”
“Me?” His confusion was clear. “What’s wrong with guys like me? Because we hate each other?”
I tore through my drawer and grabbed at a black top. It was short-sleeved, but it’d do. I yanked it on, popping my head out. “Hot guys. Guys who make girls drool. Guys who warrant attention and jealousy. And since we’re on the topic, if you ever see me in public, act like you don’t know me.”
“You’re a nutcase.”
“Just go right past me.” I brushed my hands against each other, going the opposite direction. “Like two passing buses in the night.”
“The phrase is two passing ships in the night, and no. I’m not a complete asshole. If I see you in public, I reserve my right to come over and piss you off. I’m starting to get enjoyment from this on the daily.”
“No.” I almost gasped. “Daily?”
“Daily,” he drawled. “Now, get that cute ass down here so I can give you these notes.”
I groaned but disconnected the call, grabbed my room key, and headed down. I was fine with letting the door slam behind me. It matched my mood, and fuck those two neighbors who hissed at anything that moved in the hallway. We were people. People had to move to exist.
Their door opened and one appeared, her face already scrunched in annoyance.
I gave her the middle finger, gliding right past. “Save it. I’m in a hurry.”
She huffed but retreated back into her room. Their door closed with a soft click.
I rolled my eyes, hurrying down the stairs. Swinging around the last doorway that separated the living area and the lobby, I stopped in confusion.
There was no Shay.
I expected him to be leaning against the desk, four or five girls hanging on his every word, but nothing. Only two girls talking in the waiting lobby and Sabrina, who laughed when she saw me and pointed out the door. “He’s at the back door.”
“Oh.” I brightened. That was much better. “Thanks.” I went back inside and down the first floor. It was the quickest way to that door. I was almost grinning from delight as I shoved open the back door. If I hit him, hey, all was fair in the war we were fighting of who could piss each other off the best.
It didn’t.
He was leaning against the wall, the back of his head resting on the brick, and he looked over to smirk at me. “I want to see your room.”
I thrust my hand out. “I’ll take those notes.”
That smirk just widened. He patted his bag and pushed off from the wall. “They’re in my email. I need to get on a computer.” He patted my arm and moved past me, heading inside. “I can use yours.”
“Hey!” I followed him in.
He was looking up the stairs. “Sabrina said you were on the fourth floor. You saw my place. I want to see yours. It’s only fair.”
He wasn’t waiting for my go-ahead. He was already up and rounding second floor to third. He’d be at my floor before I could get there. “Stop! I am not okay with this.”
He was at the third-floor door. He glanced down with that same goddamn smirk. “Better tell me which room or I’m going to hang out in the hallway.”
“Why are you always smirking? Is it permanently attached to your face?”
“What room, Clarke?” He was at my hallway door.
Fucking hell. I gritted my teeth. “Wait. Just wait. My door automatically locks.”
He’d opened the door but let it shut. Waiting as I covered the last set of stairs, I refused to let him see me panting. I stood there, purposely holding my breath until he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. “Breathe, Clarke. You’re going to pass out.”
I almost burped out the small pocket of air I’d been holding. “I hate you so much.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved that off. “We get it. Eternal damnation in hell, the whole shebang. Whatever.” He nodded to the door. “Stop stalling. I want to see your room.”
I was picturing pitchforks and fire. Maybe that was the burning smell he mentioned. It was hell, and all the fire in there. I yanked the door, glaring as I did. “Was this Sabrina’s idea?”
“Nope. All mine.” He was right behind me. I could feel his breathing. “She refused to tell me your room number, said I had to call.”
My eyes widened at the thought of him coming up by himself, strolling down the hallway, and then knocking on my door. Good Lordy gracious. Too many would’ve seen him at my door. I would’ve been the talk of the dorm.
I shuddered, unlocked, and entered my room. I gestured around. “Here it is. Not a three-story house with God knows how many other players living there, but it’s my little home at college.”
He came in, and I shut the door behind him.
He was nodding, taking it all in. “I like it. It’s cozy.” He pointed to Missy’s desk. “Yours?”
“I’m not going to be insulted by that.” Her desk was covered in stuffed animals, framed pictures, and candy. I nodded toward mine. “Much cleaner, and can I say, a lot more tasteful, too.” There were no pictures, no stuffed anything, and the only digestible thing was my coffee. My shelves were covered in my textbooks, notepads, and any office stuff I might need like a calculator and stapler. I had a marker board hung up with my schedule and a list of all the homework I needed to get done for the next few weeks.
He sat and gazed at the board. “You have every week planned out?”
“You don’t? It’s called using a syllabus.”
“Pretty sure my syllabus doesn’t look like that.”
He was right. I was three weeks ahead. I kept that to myself. “Excuse me.” I bent close to him, ignoring the proximity of our bodies and how my hip would touch him if I shifted a half-inch to my left.
I typed in my password so he could get to his email.
The room was getting warm again.
Maybe my thermostat was broken?
I finished and stepped back. “There. Pull up the notes, Coleman.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Coleman.” His fingers were fast as he typed. “Your email?”
I gave it to him, and it was forwarded in the next second.
I pressed my lips together. “You could’ve done that anywhere.”
“I know.” He scooted the chair back and looked around the room again. “But like I said, I was in the area and I wanted to see where you lived.” He went over to the television and began looking through the movies. “You have a lot of chick flicks.” He pulled out one of mine, one that wasn’t a chick flick. “This is a good one.”
“It’s my roommate’s.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I only watch romantic sappy movies.”
“I doubt that, for some reason.” He picked up the other one of mine. “We should watch this.”
“Gladiator?”
“Yeah.” He pulled it out and hit the open button on the DVD player.
“What? Now?” Panic was rising again. It had settled, thinking he’d leave as quick as he came. Nope. It was rising to the red needle as he sat on the loveseat.
“Yeah. Why not?” He looked to my clock on the nightstand. “I’ve got a couple of hours to kill. If I head home, the guys will want to head to the bar or something.”
“Don’t you have a game tomorrow?” Shouldn’t he have training to do? Or carb training? Or . . . what did football players do before a big game day? I looked bleakly to the screen. The movie was starting. Did they watch Gladiator? Was that part of their routine? “You can borrow this if you want. You can take it to your house and watch it there.”