As E reluctantly lets Tessa go, she smiles at me. “Come on. Let's go dance.”
And with that she grabs my hand and pulls me away with her. Then again, it's probably for the best. If I stayed with the guys, I probably would have made a fool out of myself by drooling over Zayn.
Tessa introduces me to her friends, Savannah and Lennon, and her sister, Delaney. It's honestly shocking to learn Delaney is dating Knox. I never thought that guy would settle down with anyone. He's always been a free spirit, and while he's hot, Delaney looks like she's way out of his league. At the same time, however, I can see them making a cute couple.
“And what about you, Miss I'm-Dating-A-Quarterback?”
Tessa blushes. “I know. I'm sorry.”
I chuckle and continue dancing. “It sucks that you're not going to be my sister-in-law one day, but I'm glad you're happy.”
“That's why you're my favorite Donovan.” She winks, then glances behind me. “And I might not be the only one. Looks like Zayn has a little bit of a staring problem.”
Turning around, I'm just in time to see him look away and back over at Knox. My heart flutters, but I refuse to get my hopes up. We're in the middle of a crowded dance floor. Chances are he was looking at someone else, wanting to take someone home and pound them into the mattress.
And oh, how I wish that someone was me.
“Earth to Amelia.” Kennedy waves her arms in front of my face and I'm pulled back into reality. “Jeez, weirdo. You totally spaced out for a minute.”
“Crap, sorry.”
She watches me intently before smirking. “Okay, spill. Who is he?”
I shake my head rapidly. “No one.”
It looks like she wants to argue, but she ultimately decides not to. I'm not dumb enough to think she's never going to bring it up again. It's only a matter of time before she's prying my decade-long crush out of me, but at least for now, it’s in the vault.
WE'RE HALFWAY BACK TO the dorms when a familiar laugh has my stomach in knots. I look up to see Easton and Zayn walking toward us. Fuck me.
“Hey, twerp,” my brother greets me. “Who's your friend?”
I sigh. “This is my roommate, Kennedy. Kennedy, this is my brother, Easton, and his friend, Zayn.”
Kennedy smiles politely and greets them both, but Zayn's gaze doesn't leave his phone. He mumbles a half-assed greeting, but that's about it. Clearly, Tessa was wrong, because he won't even look at me right now. I shake it off and focus on my brother.
“I thought you were busy today, and that's why you couldn't help me move in.”
He opens his mouth to answer when Zayn finally pockets his phone. “Sorry. That's my fault.”
Just the fact that he's talking to me turns my brain to mush. “O-oh, okay.”
His brows raise, accenting the piercing in the left one. “Do you still need help?”
I shake my head. “No. It's gine. I mean, fine. Done. I'm okay.”
“Okay, dork,” Easton says with a snicker. “Well, we're having a party at our place tomorrow night. You two can come if you want, but if you show up in one of those skimpy outfits, I'm sending you home to change.”
Ugh, could he treat me any more like a child? “Aye, aye, captain.”
He messes with my hair and walks away as Zayn smiles at me. “Bye, Meelz.”
The nickname I haven't heard in years shocks me into silence. It's been so long since I've heard him call me that. My cheeks heat, and I'm glad he's leaving with Easton right now, because I know they're bright red. I try to get my breathing under control as Kennedy’s grin turns devious.
“What?” I question defensively.
She smirks. “That was him.”
“What? No. No, it wasn't.”
Her nose scrunches up. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible liar?”
I sigh heavily. “Okay, fine. But you can't say anything.”
She loops her arm with mine and starts pulling me toward our dorm. “My lips are sealed, but we're getting you that guy. By tomorrow night, he'll be wrapped around your pretty little finger.”
Somehow, I doubt that.
For some, having to go to class is a burden. The books. The lectures. The assignments. I mean, who would’ve thought you'd have to do all that while in school? The fucking nerve. For me, though, I enjoy it. There's something calming about sitting and listening to someone ramble about a subject. Maybe because it's one of the few normal things in my life.
When I first got here last year, it was strange. I knew no one, and while I'm far from anti-social, going to parties by myself isn't really my thing. Once Easton got here, though, everything got better. I ditched the dorms, and the two of us got a house together right outside campus. Now, all the parties are at our place.
The professor is going over the usual—what he expects from the class and what we can expect from him. Half the room looks like they're on the verge of falling asleep. I glance over at the guy next to me. His head is resting on his fist with his elbow on the desk. The second it slips, his head slams down against the hard surface, making a loud bang. I bite my lip to hold in a laugh as the whole class goes silent.
Dipshit.
Halfway through the class, my phone vibrates against my leg. I pull it out of my jeans, and my stomach churns at the message waiting for me.
Blade: Meet me at the spot in ten.
I could try telling him I'm in class, but it's not like he'd give a shit. The only thing that prick cares about is himself. Instead, I pack up my things and leave the room, despite the teacher watching me like I've lost my mind. To be honest, I may have.
The spot he's referring to is in the basement of an abandoned house. It's the old-school kind, with two doors in the backyard you need to pull open just to reveal the stairs. I take a cigarette out of the pack and slip it between my lips as I make my way there. Lord knows I need the nicotine.
Campus is filled with students—some eager to learn, others not so much. You can always tell who's a freshman by the way their eyes hold so much hope and so little sleep. Over time, the hope dies, but the sleep-deprivation remains the same.
“About damn time,” Blade whines as I walk into the back yard.
I roll my eyes. “Fuck off, asshole. I was in the middle of class.”
“Oh, boo hoo. Is Baby Bronsyn sad he's missing precious learning time?”
To be honest, one of the enduring fantasies of my life is throat-punching him. He's the most irritating fuck I've ever met in my life, and I've been around plenty of scumbags. Yet, for some reason, he's intimidating as hell. Maybe it's because I know he carries a switchblade in his back pocket at all times. After all, that’s where his notorious nickname comes from.
“Can we just get this over with?” I ask. “I've got shit to do.”
He snorts and raises his hands. “Whatever you want, princess.”
He pulls open the doors and the two of us walk down the stairs. It's musty in here, as always, and the only light that filters in is from the small, dirty windows. Blade flicks on the lantern he keeps down here, illuminating the space, which he’s furnished with two shitty plastic lawn chairs I’m pretty sure he pulled from the trash. Then, he opens his backpack and takes out a rather large package.