“I’m flattered by the nickname.” His tongue darts out and dips to his bottom lip, sweeping across the skin, and it’s a crime against all women that he looks damn hot doing it.
“Don’t be,” I mutter. “I wasn’t being sweet.”
I’m walking away when he calls out, “Wait.”
I flip around. “Boy, I’ve heard that before. What do you want?”
He stands up and walks to me, his feet eating up the space between us. He stops and stares down at me as we ignore the jostle of people walking around us.
“Well?”
His lashes lower, hiding his eyes as he reaches out. His thumb traces the line of my jaw from my cheek to my chin, his fingers grazing down my throat. “Happy birthday, Anastasia,” he purrs.
My chest tightens, my body buzzing as I sputter and jerk away from him.
He can’t…
He can’t do this to me.
That was not an ordinary birthday wish.
“Stop your games,” I snap.
His lashes lower again. “Not even sorry.”
My hands clench around my backpack. “There’s a thick line between us, River, one you put up a long time ago.”
Whitman approaches us, and River stiffens, dropping my gaze as he shifts in the professor’s direction. Feeling as if I’ve been released by a hungry predator, I whip around and jog out of the room, skipping the elevator to take the stairs. My heart pounds as I keep my head down and dash to my next class.
River Tate is a dangerous man.
And the best thing I can do is stay away from him.
5
After getting my ass reamed by Whitman, I jog to the parking lot and shove my backpack in my black GMC, scrub my face, and take off running. It’s two miles across campus to the athletic administration building, but I need the cold wind in my face. Whitman knows about my issues but doesn’t care. He believes I shouldn’t be in his class. He isn’t wrong. Failure tugs at me, and I run faster.
Doesn’t matter that I’m wearing jeans and not workout gear. I need this, the release from anxiety.
I zoom past a group of ATOs. They call out my name, but I keep going.
For months since Mom got her diagnosis, I’ve been running mentally, from good things that feel fake to bad things that are real. On the outside, I’m cool, the same old River, but sometimes I stop and look hard at people. Don’t they know that life is short? Don’t they see that this world is a fucking scary place?
People can be yanked away from you in one second.
Dad.
Mom.
Hang in there, please, I say to her in my head.
I reach the building and come to a stop, bending over to breathe.
Once on the elevator, I glance down at the buttons on the panel. Three of them look exactly alike. I’ve been in this place enough times to know which button will get me to the fifth floor.
As the elevator rises, I drum out “Yeah!” by Usher on the wall with my fingers. My energy is blasting, my body still twitching after running into Anastasia.
Well. I didn’t exactly run into her.
I waited, knowing she was coming, right after I said I was going to forget about her.
Just needed a small hit of dopamine.
And I got more than I bargained for.
Yeah.
Got a glimpse of what she looks like fired up.
Her lush mouth, that line she has in the middle of her bottom lip.
Those legs in those short skirts. The girl rarely wears pants. Don’t blame her.
With a body like that—
Nope.
What the hell was I thinking, touching her.
It was a fuck-up, a mistake I won’t make again.
I swirl my ring. Boom. Bye. She’s gone. Out of my head.
A text comes in from my boys. It takes me a minute to read because of my dyslexia, but our conversations are usually to the point. My font size, though—man, it’s for old people.
Some Pike asshole just said I’m the king of throwing interceptions, Crew sends. Tell me not to hit him.
Hollis chimes in. Not worth the jail time, boo bear. You’re a lover not a fighter. Bar? Tonight?
Thought you were never drinking again, Hollis? I say into my phone, and it sends it as a text.
I lied, he replies, along with a shrugging emoji.
The elevator doors open on the football administration floor and I tuck my phone away. Once we start texting, it can go on and on, and I have to focus.
“River! You sweet boy, come on in here. How are you?” says the older woman sitting behind a desk.
No one calls me sweet boy except Mom and Miss Janie. “Hey, Miss Janie. Good. You sure look pretty today. Did you do something different to your hair?”
She blushes, a hand patting her gray curls. “No. You’re such a flatterer. What do you need today?”
I saunter her way, tucking my hands into my pockets. “You got a million dollars?”
“Would I be here if I did? No. Would I give it to you? No.”
“Hmmm, is there an agent or a scout hanging around today who wants to sign me?”
“Not a one. They’re crazy.”
I let out a pretend long sigh. “Huh. How about a pretty girl?”
“I do have a distant cousin—”
I slash through the air, a bit dramatically, just to get her going. “I was kidding. No setups. You tried, and it didn’t work.”
“Your mom said you were lonely.” She lifts her hands and smiles.
“She says that to rile you up. How can I be lonely in the frat?” Those brothers keep me going.
She laughs. “Your mom is a meddler.”
“You aren’t innocent,” I say with a grin.
The girl Miss Janie set me up with disliked me on the spot. I only agreed to a coffee date to make Mom and Miss Janie happy.
“Tara didn’t like football, Miss Janie. She called me a meathead. We had zilch in common.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Doesn’t matter if there’s no connection.” I wink. “Guess I need to go back to bed, wake up, and try again for that million dollars.”
She stands up, straightening her skirt. “You got any new pictures of your niece?”
“Sure do.” I cross over to her desk, pull out my phone, and bring up one of Callie holding the dog my sister Rae got her. “She got a poodle. Begged for it, and my sister and Mom can’t say no to that face. Rae said he chews shoes and scratches up the couch. Chaos.” I chuckle.
She leans in and takes in the photo. “Oh, River, she looks like you in this one.”
“Hmmm.” I look down at Callie’s face, and my heart softens to a pile of mush.
“Any plans for the break? You doing the ski trip?”
Uncertainty rises. I love the feeling of flying over snow, my skis swishing as everything drifts away. The university gives us a discounted rate, and this year’s destination is close to my hometown in Vermont. I grew up a few hours from the Adirondack Mountains, and when the campus chose White Face Lodge in January, I was stoked and made my reservation.
But…
My chest tightens, emotion stinging. “I was all in until Mom got sick. She’s insisting I still go. We argued about it.” I roll my eyes. “Well, she yelled while I held the phone out. She…” wants life to go on as usual.