King of Campus (5 page)

Sticking my brand new brass key in the lock, I push open the door to our apartment.  It’s well after seven and I’ve just come home from my first day of teaching dance at
On Pointe
. Spending two hours with all those little cuties was just enough balm to soothe away my run in with a certain douchebag jock earlier in the day.  It literally kills me that we have a class together and I’m going to have to endure his presence three days a week for the entire semester.

Ugh.

Avoid.  Avoid.  Avoid.

That’s the plan henceforth.

“Lexie-Lou,” I sing-song loudly from the front hall.  God, it feels so good to be home again.  My ass is seriously dragging.  All I can imagine is taking a long hot shower, curling up in bed, and reading a book or watching a little mindless TV before crashing.

Hmmm.  That’s strange.  No answer.  But I don’t exactly wait for one either.  Even thinking about that obnoxious asshole has everything within me prickling with irritation.

I toss my keys in a little ceramic bowl since I am notorious for losing them.  Apparently the colorful little dish set right next to the door in our entryway is supposed to cure that little affliction.

We’ll see.

I’m not holding out too much hope.

I repel keys in much the same way I apparently repel nice guys.

One of the first things I did today was get two copies of the apartment key made.  My plan is to give one to Dylan since he oh-so-conveniently lives right next door to us.  Hopefully his roommates aren’t total creepers that will have me reassessing that decision.

Glancing through the mail stacked neatly besides the key bowl, I yell, “I had the distinguished honor of meeting the campus douchebag today.”

I really could have sworn that when I came through the door, I heard the TV.  I just assumed she was in the living room watching it.  When I still don’t receive a response, I continue in a louder voice wondering if maybe she’s in her bedroom.  “Talk about a total asshole!  Roan fucking King!  Seriously, that’s his name.  I’ve been informed that he’s Barnett’s very own golden boy.”

Except he’s dark as sin and sexy as hell.

Damn it.

Where the heck did
that
thought come from?

Unwrapping the sweater I had thrown over my black leotard after teaching ballet class, I pad down the hall before stepping into the living room.  Just as I do, my feet grind to a halt as three sets of eyes fall on me.

And not one damn set belongs to my roommate either.

How embarrassing.

They’re all male, too.

Figures…

This freaking day has been nothing more than one humiliation after another.  I’d seriously give just about anything to be back in Paris right now.  Stuffing my mouth with a yummy pastry.  Instead I’m suffering through yet another mortifying moment.

The first guy my eyes collide with is Dylan.  For some strange reason I notice he’s paused the x-box game he’s in the middle of playing.  Which is odd.  Because I know enough about guys and video games to realize this is highly unprecedented behavior.  The sinking sensation in the pit of my gut continues to grow.  Then my gaze slides to-

Oh.

Hell.

No.

What the hell is
he
doing here?

“What the hell are
you
doing here?”  I practically spit the words at him as my temper instantly ignites.  Why is this guy sitting on my couch?  In
my
apartment?

A huge smile slowly moves across his chiseled face before he actually starts to chuckle.  “So you’re the roommate from France, huh?  Perfect.”

Gnashing my teeth together at his amusement, my narrowed gaze slices back to Dylan.  He visibly pales as my eyes land on him again.  Which, under different circumstances, I’d actually get a kick out of.  He is, after all, a huge hulking guy.  I weigh a buck thirty soaking weight.  My best guess is that he weighs a solid two forty or so.

Slowly, as if he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, he says, “Umm… I take it you’ve already met, Roan.  He’s one of my roommates.”  He jerks his head towards the other guy sitting quietly on a big overstuffed armchair.  My eyes slide towards him.  “And that’s Sam.  He also lives with us.”

I give a stiff little nod to Sam who rather smartly doesn’t utter one damn word.

My eyes arrow right back to Dylan before I grit out, “Where’s Lexie?”

“Shower.  We’re heading out soon.  You coming?”  The way he asks this has me suspecting that maybe he’s hoping I’m not.

Even though I had zero intention of going out tonight, my eyes slide to a still smirking Roan before I jerk my thumb in his direction.  “Is he going?”

Dylan shifts uncomfortably in his seat.  “Ummm, yeah.”

“Then no,” I shake my head emphatically, “I’m not.”

He shoots a questioning gaze towards Roan before muttering under his breath, “Lexie won’t be happy about that.”

As if on cue, the bathroom door opens and out billows a ton of steam along with my roommate.  She’s wrapped in an oversized tan colored towel.  Dylan yanks his eyes from the TV screen before quickly jumping to his feet.  “Yeah… I’m going to help Lex get dressed.”

“Hey, babe.”  Unaware of the thick tension that has descended upon us, she commands, “Go get changed, girl.  We’re hitting a couple first-day-of-school parties.  Plus, we have to celebrate you finally getting your ass back to America.”  She makes a few hand gestures which are meant to send me scurrying to my room to change. “Shoo now… go on and be quick about it.”

Feeling absurdly aggravated that the bane of my existence is sitting in my very own living room, grinning at my obvious irritation, I shake my head.  “No thanks.  It’s been a long day and I’m still feeling jet lagged.”  Although I’m pretty damn sure I could have been cajoled into going out for a drink or two to celebrate being back at Barnett.  But there’s no way in freaking hell I’m going anywhere with that tool bucket.

That being said, I head to my room before closing the door softly behind me.  Even though I want to slam it so the door rattles on its hinges, I don’t.  The last thing I want is to give that egomaniac out there the satisfaction of hearing me slam my bedroom door like some two year old in the midst of a temper tantrum.

But it’s hard.

Slumping onto my bed, it finally sinks in that I’m going to be constantly running into this guy.  It’s totally unavoidable.  Having a class with him for the rest of the semester is bad enough.  Now I find out that he lives right next door?  And his friend is going out with my best friend?

Perfect.

Just fucking perfect.

God, this day just keeps getting shittier and shittier.  Every time I think I’ve reached rock bottom, I somehow manage to jackhammer down to a new level.  It’s enough to have moisture gathering in my eyes.  Five minutes later, there’s a gentle knock on my door.  Not waiting for an answer, Lexie pushes it open before peeking her head around the corner.

“Come on, Ivy-Girl, you have to come out with us.  We can’t celebrate you being back at Barnett without you.”  Her lips tug up into a small smile before she adds, “Well, we can but it won’t be half as much fun.”

Meeting her eyes, I halfheartedly say, “I’m just really tired.  I think I’m going to shower, watch a little TV, and hit the sack.  We’ll celebrate this weekend for sure.”

Silently she searches my eyes as if she’s sifting through them for the truth, which she probably is.  Without another word, she steps into the room before closing the door quietly behind her.  Then she plunks herself down next to me on the bed.  The mattress dips under our combined weight.

Lexie and I have been best friends for a really long time.  She knows me well enough to understand that something isn’t right.  Plus, I’m pretty much betting that Dylan filled her in while
helping
her get dressed.  Honestly, I’m surprised they’re out so quickly.

“So what’s the deal with Roan?  What happened today?”

Before I can even begin to deny it, she arches a brow and cuts me off. “Dylan said you two had some kind of run in,” she pauses, her lips twitching, “and it didn’t go well?”

Rolling my eyes, I launch into the whole embarrassing coffee debacle.  By the end of my story, her lips are doing way more than twitching.  Clearly she’s having a hard time keeping a straight face.

I raise a brow before gritting out with as much outrage as I can muster, “He’s a total self-absorbed tool who propositioned me for sex.”

Those words have her bursting out in laughter.

Which only ratchets up my annoyance.  “It’s not funny!  It’s insulting,” I sniff before adding, “For all womankind.”  Neither of us mention that I’m not exactly a hard core feminist.  But still…  “Not just me.”

After her laughter finally subsides, she holds up a hand.  “I know, I know.  You’re absolutely right.  Totally insulting.  Not just for you.  All womankind should be highly aggrieved by what happened.”

My eyes narrow.  “But you’re still laughing,” I point out.  “And you don’t look the least bit aggrieved by what happened to me.”

She finally schools her features so that she looks mildly distressed.  Although it should be noted that Lexie took a drama class in high school, so I’m kind of thinking she might be drawing from those skill sets instead of actual aggravation at how I was mistreated by her boyfriend’s friend.  “No, you’re right.  He shouldn’t have done that.  But-”

Oh my god… Is she actually going to defend him?

“Don’t you dare defend him,” I cut in sharply.  “Asking me to take him back to my place and have sex is indefensible.”  My cheeks actually heat with embarrassment when I think about him telling me that
I would do
.

I would do!

He doesn’t even want to know what
I would do
to him!  He’d be lucky to limp away with his balls still intact.

Yep….  Still seething over here.

She shrugs her shapely shoulders.  “I’m not trying to make excuses for him, I’m really not.  If you had been around last year, you would understand.  Girls literally follow him everywhere he goes.  It’s like he’s a rock star or something.  It’s totally ridiculous.”

Grabbing a tissue from the nightstand next to my bed, I pretend to dab at a few tears.  “Oh, poor Roan… so much attention.  How does he stand it?”  Then I roll my eyes.  I’m sure he loves being Barnett’s golden boy.  Having all those girls panting after him like bitches in heat...

She laughs.  “I’m sure he was expecting you to be thrilled with the offer.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” I grumble.  What girl would seriously want to be spoken to like that?  He couldn’t have cared less what my name was either.  He made some half-assed attempt to find out before practically admitting it didn’t matter.

My mind tumbles back to the groups of girls who were standing around with him as well as the ones in class.  They were all drooling.  Even the freaking professor looked a little star struck by his presence.

And the fact that there’s a website dedicated solely to him and what he’s up to is completely asinine.  I’m sure it just helps feed his immense ego.

“I would hazard a guess to say that you made your thoughts on the subject perfectly clear by the fact you were moments away from slicing off his balls and ramming them down his throat.  I’m sure he won’t bother you anymore.”

For the first time since she knocked on my door, I feel my lips lift.  “If he enjoys his balls being attached to his body, he’ll steer clear of me.”

“Okay. Good.  I’m glad that’s settled. Roan King is no longer an issue. So now you can come out with us tonight and we can celebrate my best friend finally getting her ass back home where she belongs.”  Knowing exactly how to get what she wants from me, Lexie gives me a pleading look.  “It’ll be so much fun.  The party we’re hitting is going to be a mob scene.  You won’t even see Roan there.  You’ll do your thing and he’ll do his.  Trust me.”

Chapter Five

For anyone who’s interested (which is pretty much anyone with a labia), a Roan King sighting has just been confirmed at the massive house party on Hudson Street.  Get your asses over there, people.  KingOfCampus.com.

Trust me…

I should have known better.

I mean, of course I should have known better.  This day started out as a massive clusterfuck and apparently it’s going to end as one.

Right now I’m squashed in the backseat of Dylan’s truck, tucked tightly between Roan and Sam.  And they’re both big muscly guys.  I’d have to guess they each weigh well over two hundred and thirty pounds.  Although, oddly enough, I’m barely touching Sam, even though I keep trying to scoot my way towards him on the bench seat.

I think I scared him when I came in earlier tonight.  He probably thinks I’m totally psycho and is just trying to get through this ride without making eye contact.  Roan, on the other hand, is all but plastered against my side.  Just when I think it can’t get any worse, he casually slings an arm across the back of the seat so it’s stretched out behind me.