Be with Me (Wait for You #2)(36)

Did it matter?

He’d said I was a mistake, and although he’d admitted something so big and so honest with me, it didn’t really change how he viewed me. Yeah, I got why he pushed me away, but it didn’t alter the outcome.

I shouldn’t have let him kiss me. Wasn’t like I didn’t know how it was going to end, but the ache in my chest throbbed as I glanced at the empty seat beside me. I’d barely slept last night, and when morning had come, the hurt had settled deep inside me. My feelings and thoughts had all twisted up into a messy ball.

But now?

Now I was pissed.

I hadn’t kissed him—-not this time or the first time. It wasn’t me who had reasons to not be in a relationship. It was him, and he was the one who kept making moves, kept going from the kind of kisses that drugged the soul to shoving me away.

I didn’t have a fountain of experience when it came to boys and sex and friends, but I knew enough to know that he’d been hot for me before he’d kissed me. His body had proved that the moment he’d put his arms around me while we fed Lightning. And I did get that lust and feelings were totally different things.

Hell, I fell in and out of lust about three times a week depending on who I saw.

And I understood that just because he had a son didn’t mean he stopped wanting to get it on—-and Jase wanted me. But was it more substantial?

It had to be more. He wanted to help me experience something other than dancing and what he said yesterday about what had happened with Cam not being my fault had meant a lot. That meant he had to care, right? Of course he cared somewhat because I was Cam’s sister . . . damnit.

Irritation pricked my skin as I shifted in my seat, clutching the pen until the cap cracked. I stroked the flame until it turned into an orb of anger—-anger was better than hurt.

God, what pissed me off even more was that I was sitting in music appreciation for God’s sake and would probably fail my midterm because I had spent the last thirty minutes obsessing over that jackass.

“The baroque period saw the creation of tonality,” said Professor Gibson. “Tonality is a language of music where a specific hierarchical pitch is based on a key center—-the tonic triad.”

Huh?

Phasing in halfway through the lecture, I had absolutely no clue what Gibson was talking about and as he continued, so did my confusion.

“The common, most well--known composers of the baroque period are Johann Sebastian Bach . . .”

I was going to Sebastian Bach Jase right in the face.

“You okay?” Calla asked as the lecture grew to a close.

I packed up my notebook and nodded. “Yeah, I’m just tired.”

She didn’t say anything as she stood. In history class, she had asked about yesterday and because I had no idea how to put any of what happened into words that didn’t involve several f*ck bombs, I’d told her everything had been great.

Despite it being sunny, the chill in the air when we left the arts building made me glad for once that I was wearing jeans. Poor Calla, in her red cotton shorts, looked like she was about to freeze her bum off.

“You know, when Gibson talks about Sebastian Bach, all I can think of is that rock singer in the eighties who was really hot. I doubt the real—-”As we rounded the corner, she drew in a deep breath. “Oh boy . . .”

Curious, I followed her gaze as I wrapped my arms around my waist. I squinted. A guy with close--cropped brown hair was heading across the packed parking lot. There was a line of cars heading in and out, and he cut between a Volkswagen and a van. Dressed in nylon dark blue pants and a gray Shepherd shirt that stretched over broad shoulders and a nice chest, he looked like he could’ve stepped out of any welcome--to--college advertisement.

I’d seen him a -couple of times around Whitehall. He was hard to miss, with handsome angular features and wide, expressive lips. I glanced at Calla. “Who’s that?”

“You don’t know him?” she asked, tugging on the hem of her shorts. “That’s Brandon Shriver.”

“Brandon Shriver?” I pulled my sunglasses out of my bag and slipped them on. “I like the name.”

“So do I. But I’m surprised you don’t know him. He’s friends with Cam and Jase.”

I forced a grin. Jase. I was currently pretending that guy didn’t exist. Wasn’t working very well.

“He started last semester in the spring, but he’s older than me.” The hollows of her cheeks flushed. Calla was twenty, so I tried to figure out how that worked. She answered before I could ask. “He was deployed overseas for a -couple of years. I think he’s an education major, which is strange. He’s too hot to become a teacher. “

“Hey,” I said, elbowing her. “I’m going to be a teacher.”

“But I don’t want to make beautiful babies with you. With him,” she said, and sighed dreamily. “That’s a different story—-oh, here he comes.”

And he was. Hopping up on the curb, he crossed the pavilion. No more than a -couple of feet from us, he glanced over to where we stood. Right off the bat, I noticed he had bright green eyes, something I hadn’t been close enough to him to see before. That brilliant gaze moved over Calla, then to me before drifting back to the blonde.

Calla gave a short wave as her cheeks bloomed as red as her nail polish. “Hey.”