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Oh hell. This is going to be a loooong class.

Chapter 9

JAYDEN

THE HISTORY LECTURE hall is already almost full when I head in, but one look is all it takes to find Veronica, because she’s got a whole ring of empty seats around her while everyone else is gathered in groups.

A couple of girls near the aisle glance her way, then lean in to whisper, and one of them lifts her phone as if she’s snapping something to send to a friend. Perfect. The rumors spread like crazy, exactly like I knew they would, and now Veronica’s the girl no one wants to be caught within ten feet of, which means the college has done most of my job for me while I’ve barely lifted a finger, just as I expected.

People here love a good scandal more than they love anything else. Now Veronica’s cut off from everyone, just like she’s supposed to be.

I head up the steps and take the empty seat right next to her, so close our arms almost brush. Her eyes are trained on her open notebook, her jaw tight, as if she’s already figured out it’s me and decided the smartest move is to act like I’m not here at all.

Is she really going to ignore me? Even when I’m the only person willing to get close to her? Cute. She’ll figure out soon enough that I’m the only one on the whole campus willing to talk to her. Although, the harder she pretends I don’t exist, the more I want to find out why she’s acting that way.

But I’ve dealt with plenty of girls who play it cool for show, cross their arms, and act uninterested because they think it makes them more of a catch. But Veronica just doesn’t seem impressed with me at all, and that’s new for me. Most people would kill just to have me sit next to them. Not her, though, but I just want to figure out what it’ll take to get her to break. I rest my arm along the back of her seat and lean in a little.

“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low, which usually gets girls to soften up. “I’m really sorry about what you’re going through. It’s crazy.”

She doesn’t even react, just scribbles something into her notebook. Stubborn as ever. Most girls would’ve melted the second I turned toward them, but whatever. It only makes me want her more.

“Look, I know you think it was me,” I say, lowering my voice even more so no one can overhear us. “And I get it. I really do. You were freaked out and looking for someone to blame. But I swear I was nowhere near your class or your presentation. There’s no way I could’ve pulled off something like that even if I wanted to, and I didn’t. Why would I? I barely know you.”

She still refuses to look at me, but her fingers tighten on her pen.

“Whoever did it,” I say, tilting my head toward her, “they were probably just being idiots. It was a prank. Some dumb hazing thing people do because they think it’s funny, and they never stop to think about what it actually does to the person on the other end of it.” I let out a breath, shaking my head as if the whole thing genuinely bothers me. “It’s messed up. What people do to each other here, I mean. They act like it’s all just a joke, but it can ruin someone’s life.”

Right now, she needs someone on her side, or at least someone who sounds like they are, and I’m more than happy to be that someone. She just doesn’t realize it yet, apparently. Maybe I should give her a little more. Something that’ll make me sound like a guy who understands what she’s going through. Girls love that.

“It happened to me too, actually. My first week here,” I say. “Someone snuck into my room and hid food while I was out. Maybe it was fish or something rotten. I don’t know. But the whole place reeked for days. I opened every window, sprayed everything, took the trash out over and over, and it just wouldn’t go away. My clothes smelled of it. It was horrible. Once I finally found it, the food was totally unrecognizable, with maggots and all. It took me almost a week to air the room out.”

It’s a harmless little story, and it makes me sound like a guy with empathy. She needs to start thinking of me as someone who’s nice to her instead of the guy she wants to strangle.

Her head finally turns, and her fiery eyes land on me. Got her. I keep my face friendly, a small smile pulling at my mouth, which should totally make me look harmless.

I hold her gaze. “I know a little bit about how it feels. Having people whisper about you and act like you did something wrong when you didn’t do anything at all.”

Her brows draw together, and for a moment she just studies me, as if she’s trying to figure out if I’m messing with her or if I actually mean any of it. Good luck with that. Sometimes, even I can’t always tell where the act ends.

“The whole thing’s just ridiculous,” I say, nodding toward the rest of the room without looking at anyone in particular. “Everyone’s avoiding you like you’ve got the plague or something, and it’s not right, because you’re the victim here. You didn’t do anything. Someone did it to you, and now you’re the one paying for it while they enjoy the show. Things shouldn’t be like that.”

Her lips part, and surprise flickers across her face, as if she wasn’t expecting me of all people to say that out loud. I’ve got her attention now. At least she’s listening to me, and soon, she’ll warm up to me too.

“Anyway,” I say, keeping my voice light, “you should come to my birthday party next week. It’s nothing crazy, but a bunch of people will be there. Might be good for you to get out of your own head for a night, you know? And it’d help too. If people see you around me, laughing and having a good time, they’ll forget all about this dumb rumor. Stuff like that blows over fast here, trust me. Give it a couple weeks and everyone will move on to something else.”

One night of fun, and she’ll start to feel like maybe things aren’t so hopeless after all and that maybe I’m the only good thing that’s happened to her since everything came crashing down on her. It’s almost too easy when I think about it.

And it’s not like she’s got a lot of other options right now. Her friends, if she’s made any, are avoiding her, and the whole room treats her like she’s contagious. Against all of that, a guy being decent to her is going to feel like a lifeline, whether she wants to admit it or not.

She opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, and I lean in a fraction, ready with a warm smile no matter what she says. But right then, the professor comes through the door, drops a stack of papers on the desk up front, and starts talking over the last of the chatter, so whatever Veronica was about to say dies in her throat. She gives me a quick little nod before looking away.

I have no clue what the hell it’s supposed to mean. Is it a yes? Is she saying she’ll come to the party? Or is it just a nod to shut me up so she can focus? Or maybe it’s an I’ll-think-about-it, which isn’t a yes at all. I hate that I can’t read her. Girls fall over themselves to give me a yes, and I’m trying to guess the meaning of one little nod from a girl who won’t even look at me anymore now that the professor’s talking.

I face the front too, pulling out my notebook so I look like I actually care about whatever’s on the board. But I can’t stop thinking about Veronica. A straight yes would’ve been simple, and I could’ve worked around a no. But a nod that could mean anything just leaves me hanging, and I’m not used to that.

When I ask a girl to a party, she says yes on the spot, usually with a lot of giggling and squealing, and then she spends the whole week planning what she’s going to wear. Veronica, though...

Fine. Whatever. If she doesn’t show up, I’ll just find another way into her life, because this is far from over. But I’d be lying if I said that not knowing didn’t get under my skin. I don’t do uncertain, and Veronica’s the first person in a long time who’s made me feel that way. Oh well, at least she’s interesting.