Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(24)

I grimace when I see a text that came in last night.

U r so hot. I want to pull your hair back and fuck you until you scream.

Parker. Drunk texting. Again. Bye, Douchebag. I press the block button. Should have done it ages ago.

After I take a quick shower, I change into frayed shorts and a tank top, scuff into my flip-flops, and scrape my wet hair back into a bun. I shove my school-issued laptop into my backpack and head out.

My early morning class is a seminar in the history of Sparrow Lake, an elective for my degree in art. My steps are light as I make the trek to campus. Some of the chaos that’s usually in my head is defeated. The fear that’s haunted me for a year feels snuffed out.

Now that the pressure is off to pay back Connor five hundred a month, I can cut my hours at the club and focus on looking for a new job. Sure, it won’t pay as much, but it will be enough to pay back Eric a little at a time, cover bills, and maybe sock away money for next semester.

I still owe Poppy and Taylor. And Marcia. I need those burdens lifted too.

A side of me wants to dash to the pawn shop and get the ring back, but that feels impossible. I need to put other things first.

I think about Eric showing up at the club and a bittersweet feeling washes over me. His act of kindness was surprising. And not at all something I imagined him doing.

My mind races with thoughts of us in prep school. His lingering looks. The little notes he’d slip me when he walked by my desk. The way his leg felt pressed against mine when we did a project together. We each had to write a poem, then read it and take critiques. I have it saved on my phone and bring it up.

I’m angry at the world For taking you away from me.

I’m angry at God

For not saving you.

I’m angry at fate

For being so cruel.

I’m angry at you

For leaving me behind.

Most of all, I’m angry at myself For stepping in that house.

I’m sorry I’m not you.





I’d been stunned at his emotional words, at the hesitant way he waited for me to tell him my thoughts.

“It’s beautiful,” I told him.

I didn’t care that he had a reputation.

I believed he was as crazy about me as I was him.

I remember the day we had sex. After it was over, his eyes were far, far away.

And when I texted him the next day, and the next, and the next, he blew me off with I’m busy. Can’t talk.

I saw him kissing another girl later in the week, and when I confronted him, he told me that he played around and he was sorry if it hurt my feelings and perhaps it was best if we didn’t mess around.

I was devastated. I felt used. So. Much. Pain.

I thought Eric was mine, but he didn’t do girlfriends—especially one like me.

Just as that thought flies through my head, I see him on the quad with Boone and Reece. They’re standing under a big elm tree with a group of girls around them. Not surprising. Eric is gorgeous, Reece is built with blond hair, and Boone has a chiseled jaw and a mischievous smile.

The sun is shining. Birds are chirping. Life feels different.

Maybe this is the moment when we can be friends for real.

I’d like that. I mean, he did something awesome for me.

I walk to them with a bit of hope mixed with wariness.

A tall blonde girl, I think her name is Tillie, has her hand on Eric’s arm and laughs up at him. She’s pretty. Athletic. A volleyball player. Just his type.

“Hey,” I say as I reach them. There’s a big smile pasted on my face.

Eric turns to me and blinks as if he didn’t expect to see me on campus.

“Hey,” Boone and Reece reply, then ask me about classes. We chit-chat for a few minutes and I keep glancing at Eric, meeting his stare.

I fidget as I turn to him. He’s wearing jeans and a white HU shirt that stretches across his muscled chest. His hair falls around his face in dark red waves. There’s scruff on his jawline.

“Um, it was good to see you the other night,” I say.

“Where did ya’ll go?” Tillie asks as she sizes me up. I can tell she finds me wanting by the way she sniffs.

“Platinum Nights.” I smile without warmth, giving her the same level of greeting she gave me.

She grimaces. “Oh. Gross. You went together?” Her eyes dart between us.

I ignore her and direct my question to him. “Maybe we could get coffee later?”

Oh, hell. Why did I say that?

Tillie twines her arm through his and gazes up at him adoringly. “He’s busy.”

Ah. She’s staking a claim.

I wait for him to reply, to maybe say he isn’t busy, but Eric just looks at me, his expression blank.

Use your words, jerk.

I’m not the innocent girl from before.

My armor is thick, built of solid steel, impenetrable from a year of living on the edge.

Rejection bounces off the fortress that is my heart.

There are no cracks. No flaws.

I can handle your rejection—even in front of your friends.

Tillie breaks the moment by tapping Boone on the arm playfully as if she’s been part of their group for a while. “We should go to that new pizza place on Brooks Lane tonight. They’ve been getting rave reviews.”

Reece throws an arm around me and gives me a squeeze. He’s always been a great guy. “I’m up for coffee. Text me. You have our digits?”