His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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————————————— "well, me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time." —————————————
C A M I L A
'I hate my stats prof. Dick.'
Never took stats, but sure, I can see that. I sneak another sip of my energy drink through its straw before hiding it between my thighs.
'Don't fall in love—fall off a bridge. It'll hurt a lot fucking less.'
Ha. I like that one.
I'm in the campus library fourth week of fall semester, snickering at the sentiment carved into the wood table.
Maddie sighs, levelling me with a look that burns into the side of my face. "Is that another Kick can?"
"Good ole 2% milk," I lie, scribbling another swirl between the lines on my paper.
"You're going to blow up your heart, Camila. It's too much caffeine, babes."
Maddie's a petite blonde girl with blue eyes, and she smells like sugar, but none of that matters; she's insanely smart, something I aspire to. She's going to be a doctor.
Maddie stands. "I gotta run, babes." She collects her pink notebooks and clutches them to her chest, rocking on her heels. "I have a date!"
I yawn, stretching my arms above my head, offering her two thumbs up. "Use protection."
With an eye roll, she says, "Don't get caught," nodding toward the graveyard of Kick cans in the gym bag by my feet.
I wave her off. "If you're not back by midnight, should I call the cops or grab a baseball bat and start canvassing frat parties?"
As Maddie walks backwards, she wiggles her eyebrows. "Surprise me."
I run a hand down my face, letting out a sigh that feels like it's dragging my soul with it—if I have one.
Just as I'm about to give up on the whole day and leave, a shadow falls across my scribbled mess of notes. I glance up.
A guy. Sandy brown hair, wide lips, high cheeks, freckled nose and cheeks. And he smells like $500 cologne. Do those exist? Probably.
I'm immediately aware of every chaotic element of my appearance, from the frizzy curls under my hood to the way my clothes smell. I didn't have time to shower after my workout today. Okay, fine—I didn't want to.
I clean up well, but right now? Not cleaned up.
"Hey." This guy's voice is smooth and confident, with just a hint of curiosity. His eyes are green, I think. Maybe hazel. Deep set, pretty, framed by lashes like spun gold.
