But that was my problem, I realized as the professor dismissed the class. Being a bitch to someone who was trying to be kind to me, as he'd put it, was vicious. And my dad didn't raise me to be like that. Although the guy didn't make it easy when he started bossing me around. I was used to bossing people around, not the other way. I guessed we were similar in that regard, so it was only natural we'd butt heads. But, I thought as I let out a sigh of resignation, I knew that I stepped out of line. Contrite, I fished out my phone in my pocket. I bit my lip as I scrolled to his name in my inbox, read his only text from last night. 8 am tomorrow. My place. A man of a few words. What should I text him to let him know I wanted a truce? Did I want one? It was the end of classes in the lecture halls. Students filled the corridor, some heading to their next class, others hanging out to chat and blocking the way. Since I didn't want to squish between them, I leaned against the wall, and started typing him a message. Want some food? Erase. Need a ride after class? Erase. Are you over your period cramps? Erase. He might think I was looking for another fight with that one. This was hard. All the tips and tricks I've read about men in magazines flew out the window when I was faced with an actual one. I needed to brush up on the subject again. Frustrated, I combed my fingers in my hair, looked up. The hallway was now empty, as if the fire alarm had rung and everyone had escaped, except for a few rebels who believed it was only a drill. My eyes scanned the space. And froze. There he was, sitting on a bench outside the lecture hall in the corner. He sat like a maverick. Sprawled, really. He leaned back lazily, long legs spread, muscular arms propped on the back of the bench. The rain had stopped and the sun had finally come out of its hiding. Its sunlight pierced through the skylight, kissing his hair and turning the color to blue black. This was where I first saw him. Four days ago. I saw two guys walked to him. A short muscular guy with spikes in his blonde hair and the gorgeous Caleb Lockhart. Popular basketball player slash Lothario who was rumored to have boned every gorgeous blonde on campus. They were joking around, hitting him on the arm like guys greet each other. His mouth moved a little, a hint of a smile, but he remained the way he was. A little aloof, as if he was selfish with his personal space, and a lot sexy. "Hi, Cam!" A beautiful redhead as short as my thumb sashayed in front of him. She bent down, her torpedo cleavage in his face, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissed him straight smack on the lips. And then his eyes lifted and met mine. Motherfucker. *** CAMERON "St. Laurent!" I almost missed the ball when it zoomed in front of me. I grabbed it before it hit my face, spun around, and took my shot. "Stop daydreaming, son!" Caleb called out, laughing. I gave him the finger in the spirit of friendship. Another hour went by, and another, and my lungs and legs were screaming for me to take a break, but I kept going. I loved the burn, the distraction from my dark thoughts. And darker mood. It made me stop focusing on the missed call I got just as I pushed away the redhead. I was going to come after Kara, but that missed call had stopped everything in my world for a moment. It was from the person I was hoping wouldn't contact me for a while. Or forever. But that was asking too much. Coach blew the whistle, ending practice. I lifted my shirt to rub the sweat off my face. I was out of breath, bending as I propped my hands on my legs to catch it, slow down my breathing. "You got good game, son!" Levi slapped my back as he headed to the showers. I took off my shirt, slung it on my shoulder. "Cam!" I caught the bottle of water Caleb threw at me. He motioned for me to go ahead without him. He was talking to a couple of girls on the sideline. It looked like he was going to take a while. I twisted the cap, glugged water, and just for the hell of it, poured it on top of my head to cool off. "Hey, hey!" I felt the force of feet kick me on the ass, but I move away before it pushed me. Justin sniggered in front of me. "You're putting on a show for my girls. Ya gotta leave some for me, dickhead." I narrowed my eyes, feeling the heat shoot up my veins. "Do that again. I f ucking dare you." He looked shocked, then raised his hands, palm up. "Someone's got her panties in a twist." I curled my hands into fists, got in his face. "Say that again?" Justin backed off, looking behind him for help. "I was kidding! Dude, chill." "Cam." It was Caleb. "Cool off." I looked down, flexed my fists. What the hell was wrong with me? The guys were looking at me like I'd sprung a leak in my brain. They weren't used to seeing my temper. I was usually coolheaded around them, usually shrugged off the ribbing from them. But those days were free of her. I hopped into the shower, turned on the cold water. Even after not seeing her for years she still had the power to tie my guts into a knot just by a single missed call. What could she want now? I had changed my number a few times, but she always found a way to get it. My father probably gave it to her just to get her off his back. "Hey, bro." Justin tossed me a towel just as I wrapped one around my waist. "Didn't know you didn't like your ass kicked. Sorry. About earlier, I mean." His voice still held resentment from what happened, but I didn't blame him. "Yeah. Me too," I said and let it go. I walked to my locker, using the towel he gave me to rub my hair. A sign of peace. I felt exhausted, but not better. I already knew what was coming in the next few days. Already dread was pooling in the pit of my stomach. "Need a ride?" Caleb asked as I put on my pants. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks." I opened my locker. The light from my phone sucked the breath out of me, but I saw the screen before I could dismiss it. Spitfire: I'm in the gym, sicko. The knots in my stomach started to loosen. My shoulders released the tightness I wasn't even aware was there as soon as I saw her text. "Hot date?" Caleb asked. He saw me smiling. "Yeah," I replied. "Really hot." And when I saw her waiting on the bleachers, I grinned.