Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men #9)(26)

Would he still ignore me?

He was a freshman now; this would be his second semester. I wondered what his field of study was and how he paid attention in class. I couldn’t picture him as the type who diligently took notes all hour. So not his style. No, he was the slacker in the back who sat slouched in his seat with his feet propped up on the chair in front of his as he doodled the entire time, or slept…take your pick.

I knew he’d been the salutatorian of his high school class, so he had to be pretty damn smart, but the idea of him being a model student didn’t even seem possible.

And why was I sitting here pondering what kind of f*cking student Colton Gamble was?

I definitely had issues.

Steeling my resolve, I refocused my energies on the professor and was able to listen and soak in a couple sentences before I began to wonder if Colton had met some other girl since the wedding. He hadn’t come back to the bar in the eight days since he’d last ignored me.

Eight days. A guy like him—cocky, suave, and too gorgeous for his own good—he could’ve landed a couple women in that time.

It made me feel suddenly very nauseous.

By the time we were let out of class five minutes early, I was a sweaty, worried mess. Deciding lack of coffee had demented my brain, I stopped by the campus coffee shop on the way to my second class of the day. The line was short, thank goodness, so I had a steaming cup in my hand within minutes.

Sipping and reenergized, I started toward the history building where I had a Philosophy 101 class. It was a general ed credit I should’ve taken my freshman year. But I’d kept pushing it off. If I could’ve gotten out of it completely, I would have, except my advisor had finally noticed I needed to take something and said I couldn’t graduate until I did, so…here I was.

Since it had such a large enrollment, it was held in the history building’s lecture hall where the seats went up a step the further back they went. Just as I entered the domed room, I felt my phone buzz from my bag. I slipped it from the front pocket of my backpack only to find a group message from Tyla, sent to me and Sasha.





Along with her message, she’d attached a picture of a guy she’d dated her sophomore year. He was asleep, obviously in class, slumped over his desk with his face mashed to his textbook. And someone—I’m guessing Tyla—had stuck a sign to his forehead that read, I have crabs.

It was so Tyla that I laughed and turned to head up the steps without really watching where I was going, navigating completely from the corner of my eye.

But then suddenly, someone was right there, also trying to go up the steps to find a seat. I skidded to a stop to avoid running into her…or him.

“Shit, sorry.” I looked up, cringing as I apologized. “I didn’t see—” The words died on my tongue when I looked up into his face. “Oh, God.”

Colton’s smile was tight and his eyes narrowed. “Hey,” he greeted, bobbing his chin. “Long time no making out.” Slipping sideways so I could pass, he splayed out a hand, telling me to go ahead. “Ladies first.”

But I couldn’t move. I gaped at him another second before shaking my head. “Wha-wha—what are you doing here?”

His jaw shifted impatiently. Lifting his gaze above my head, he answered, “Attending class. Same as you, I’m guessing.”

I glanced around the room. Yes, it was a freshman class, and yes, I’d put off taking it until my last semester but, no...no way could it be the same freshman class this freshman was taking. Realizing it was—we honest-to-God shared a class together—I whipped my gaze back to his stony face.

“No,” I uttered. “No, no, no. This can’t happen.”

His glare shot fire before he bit out, “Glad you approve. Now, do you need to get by to find a seat or not? I’d prefer not to stand here all day waiting for you to pass.”

My mouth fell open. “I…I’m sorry,” I mumbled, all the while wondering why I was apologizing to him when he was the one being the *. It was just so bizarre to see him this way.

The only Colton I’d ever known was smiling, charming, happy Colton. I didn’t like nasty, bitchy, frowning Colton. But the reason nasty Colton was even a thing was because I’d made him that way, which sucked. I so totally sucked. I’d ruined a perfectly good hot boy.

People had been beaten to death for less.

I nodded mutely and hurried up the steps until I found a spot. As I slid into the first available end chair, Colton brushed past to find something further back. I glanced up at him over my shoulder as he slumped deep into a seat and immediately propped his feet on the chair in front of him.

I couldn’t even feel smug that I’d guessed him correctly—he was a total slouch sitter—it was too surreal to learn I shared a class with him.

And too painful to witness how much he hated me now.

He ignored me completely as I stole another second to stare at him, the curl of attraction mixing bitterly with my regret. I turned back to my desk, but I swore I could feel his heated stare burning the back of my neck.

It didn’t dissipate when class started either. No, it caused me to suffer through yet another hour of paying no attention to my lecture.

As soon as the professor released us, I raced out of there before Colton and I could collide on the stairs again. I had just pushed my way out of the building when it struck me I was running scared. I was not the type of person who ran away from problems.