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Saved by the frat boy.
Cam’s gaze didn’t veer from me, but his grin started to slip. “Nothing, Kevin, just trying to have a conversation.”
Giving Cam a quick wave, I hurried around Kevin and the front of the trunk. I didn’t look back, but I could feel him watching. Over the years, knowing when someone was staring at you when you weren’t looking had become a talent of mine.
I forced myself not to run to the train station, because running away in front of the same guy twice in one day was beyond the acceptable level of weirdness. Even for me.
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I was behind the wheel of my car and the engine humming.
Jesus.
I dropped my head against the steering wheel and groaned. A catastrophe waiting to happen? Yeah, sounded about right.
Chapter 3
Sitting through a three hour long sociology class Tuesday night hadn’t been as bad as I thought it would be, but by the time class let out, I was starving. Before I headed back to my apartment, I stopped by the Sheetz—a convenience store/gas station we didn’t have in Texas—and got a MTO. A Made To Order salad, heavy on the fried chicken strips and ranch dressing.
Mmm. Healthy.
The parking lot was packed with cars, some even in the nearby field that butted up to west campus. It hadn’t been like this when I’d left for my evening class and I wondered what was going on. I managed to find a parking spot all the way near the main road and as I turned the ignition, my cell rattled in the cup holder.
I grinned when I saw it was a text from Jacob. We’d exchanged numbers earlier in class since he lived in one of the dorms.
Art sucks was all his text said.
Laughing, I sent him a quick text back about our homework, which was to identify what painting belonged to what era. Thank God for Google, because that was how I was completing the assignment.
Gathering up my bag and food, I climbed out of my car. The air was sticky and I lifted my hair off my neck, wishing I had pulled it up into a ponytail. The scent of autumn was in the air though and I was eager to see cooler weather. Maybe even snow in the winter. I headed across the brightly lit parking lot, toward the center cluster of apartments. I was on the top floor—the fifth—it seemed like a lot of students lived here and most hadn’t really started to arrive until today, but as soon as I stepped up on the sidewalk, I knew where all the cars were coming from.
Music thumped from somewhere inside my apartment building. A lot of lights were on and I could pick up pieces of conversation as I headed up the stairs. On the fifth floor, I found the culprit. The apartment across the hall, two doors down, was throwing a party. The door was cracked open and light and music spilled into the open hallway.
A little bit of jealousy wiggled inside my chest as I unlocked my door. All the laughter, the noise, and the music sounded fun. It all seemed so normal, like something I should be doing, but parties….
Parties didn’t end well for me.
Closing my door behind me, I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag on the couch. Furnishing this apartment had put a dent in my account, but I’d be here for four years and I figured I could sell it when I left or bring it with me.
And it was all my stuff. That meant a lot to me.
The party raged on across the hall, long after I finished my not-so healthy salad, changed into sleep shorts and a long sleeve shirt, and finished my art homework. It was just after midnight when I gave up on reading my English assignment and started back toward my bedroom.
But I stopped in the hallway, my toes curling into the carpet.
A burst of muffled laughter rang out and I knew their door must’ve been open, because it sounded louder than before. I was frozen, worrying my lower lip. What if I opened the door and recognized someone from class? It was obviously a college kid throwing the party. Maybe I would know the person? So what if I did? Wasn’t like I was going to join in when I was braless, wearing my jammies, and rocking the messiest ponytail known to man.
I turned and flipped on the bathroom light, staring at my reflection. Scrubbed of all makeup, the freckles on the bridge of my nose stood way out and my face seemed more flushed than normal. I leaned against the sink my mom would’ve laughed at and pressed my face closer to the mirror.
With the exception of my reddish-brown hair that was from my father, I was the spitting image of my mom. Straight nose, rounded chin, and high cheekbones, with all the cosmetic help she’d had over the years to stay looking fresh, we looked more like sisters instead of mother and daughter.
Footsteps echoed out in the hall. More laughter.
I made a face at my reflection and pushed away from the mirror. Back in the hall, I told myself to go to sleep, but I found myself walking toward my front door. I had no idea what I was doing or why I was being so nosy, but everything sounded… warm and fun out there and everything in here was cold and boring.
Warm and fun?
I rolled my eyes. God, I sounded lame. It was cold in here because I had the central air cranked like a mother.
But I was at the door and there was nothing stopping me. Yanking it open, I peered out into the stairwell, seeing two heads disappear down the steps. The door to the party was still open, and I stood there, torn. This wasn’t home. No one was going to send me a scathing look or yell obscenities at me. If anything, they’d probably think I was some kind of freak just standing there, half out my door, all bug-eyed, and letting all the cold air out.
