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“I’ll see you afterwards,” she says. “Good luck!”
We’re studying different majors, but we all have tests today. I’m ready to get my first test behind me. Since I’m not registered, I’m not in the system, and the grades won’t count in my favor. The upside is that they won’t count against me if I fail either. But I wish I could do something here that will reflect on some kind of record for my future.
That’s one thing I haven’t figured out how to do yet. Without money, I can’t enroll. And if can’t enroll, I can’t graduate.
But I’ve gotten this far—everyone thinks I’m a student, I attend classes, and I have books. It will work itself out.
The campus is busy when I cross toward the test hall where I’ll be writing. Students mill about each other, some talking excitedly, some still with their noses buried in books.
I’m so focused on my future—or my lack thereof—that I don’t see the solid block of a man until I bump right into him. I drop my books and nearly lose my balance.
“Watch where you’re going,” a snide voice says.
When I look up at him, his piercing gray eyes are hard. It’s the guy from the library—the one who stole my book for me. Stone.
“Why don’t you move your big self out of the way where students are walking?” I clap back.
He raises his eyebrows at me. I don’t think anyone talks to him that way. Lacey warned me he’s trouble when I told her about him the first time, but everyone else seems to give him a wide birth or looks like they’re going to fall at his feet in worship. For some reason, they’re treating this SOB like royalty.
All I see when I look at him is an arrogant ass who thinks he’s God’s gift to mankind.
He’s hot, though. He has blond hair tousled just right, slate-grey eyes, and a grin that plays around his mouth as if it’s a challenge to amuse him.
But I don’t care if he looks like he’s stepped from the covers of a GQ magazine, or if his jeans hang from his hips just right, or he’s wearing that t-shirt like he’s doing it a favor.
I can’t stand entitled men who think the world owes them something.
“You dropped this,” he says and picks up the book that fell, the same book he stole for me. “Seems like this bad boy keeps bringing us together.” He winks at me.
I snort. “Do your lines actually work on people?”
He frowns slightly. I’m not fawning at his feet the way I bet every other girl on campus does, and that throws him off. Good. I’mnotlike every other girl around here, but he’sexactlylike every jock I’ve seen, thinking the sun shines out of his ass.
“Come on, would it kill you to smile?” he asks.
“At you? It might.”
The humor drains from his eyes. I’m pissing him off. He was trying to charm me.
Yeah, not interested. I grew up with a son of a bitch who thought he could do what he wanted and get what he wanted. Granted, my dad wasn’t ever sober, and I doubt he was ever attractive. But the same basic principles apply.
“I’m late,” I say and snatch the book out of his hands and turn my back on him. I bet no one else has ever done that, but there’s a first time for everything.
I hurry to class and make it just in time. If I’m any later, they’ll lock me out, and I’ll miss the test. I don’t want to miss out on the opportunity to better myself.
I take a seat in the back of the test hall and wait for them to deliver my paper. When it comes, I write my name on the paper and start filling out the questions. It’s easier than I thought it was. We’ve barely covered any work in class, but we had prep to do before classes started. The test is largely about that. I took the notes down, and I did the work.
I know the answers to all the questions.
Man, it feels good to know what the hell I’m doing.
When the test is over, the rest of the students send their papers to the front to be marked by the lecturer. I tuck my test into my bag, instead. I can’t hand it in, not even to see what I scored. If they see my name, they’ll look for me in the system. And when I’m not there, I’ll be fucked.
I’ll check the answers when I’m back in my dorm, see how I did for myself, and see where I can improve.
When the doors are opened and we’re allowed to leave, I’m one of the first ones out.
“Hey,” someone calls after me. “You!”
