Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(25)

Yeah. Sugar made sure I had all the numbers once she and Z got serious.

I nod at Reece, wave bye to them, then walk off.

Heat rushes up my face. Eric basically ignored me. Why?

Is he ashamed to be seen with me?

Steel walls, remember?

“His loss,” I mutter as I trudge up a hill to class. “It was just freaking coffee, not a prom date.”

I wind up ten minutes late. When I pull open the door and try to sneak in, it makes a horrible screeching noise, the sound echoing in the packed auditorium. Every eye turns to look, and the professor, who according to my schedule is Dr. Fillmore, stops mid-sentence and glares.

Wincing, I close the door as quietly as possible, but it makes another terrible screech.

“Sorry,” I whisper, hoping the professor will continue on, but she doesn’t.

She—and two hundred other students—watch as I look for an empty seat.

I take the first one I see in the back, which, unfortunately means I have to climb over a girl at the end of the aisle. I step on her toe.

“Sorry,” I whisper again, slipping into the seat next to her.

She’s typing notes on her laptop and already has a page of them. What are the chances I can make friends and we can share?

From the way she shifts her body away from me, I’m guessing that’s a big nope.

I pull out my laptop and get situated. As I follow along with the syllabus, I hear whispering a few rows ahead.

I look up to see a few familiar faces.

I see Scott’s red-haired girlfriend and her brunette friend. They look gorgeous and fresh-faced, as if they spent hours getting ready for class. Sitting with them are a couple of familiar looking guys with backwards Kappa hats.

Red looks over her shoulder at me and mouths, Whore.

I glare right back. Then I catch sight of one of the guys. Channing. I’ve seen him around. He’s not smirking like I expected. Instead, he frowns and nudges Red with his elbow. She looks a little embarrassed and turns back around.

Sorry, he mouths to me.

A few moments later, a phone dings in the auditorium.

Then it starts to ring, and I realize the sound is coming from my bag.

As mortified as I am, that drains away the second I read the message on the display.

I NEED YOUR HELP

Mom.

I close up my laptop and shove it in my backpack and ease my way around my none-too-happy neighbor.

The professor pauses mid-sentence as I rush to the doors, typing out a message to my mom.

Where r u?

When I’m out in the lobby, I pace the tile floor, waiting for her to respond. I press my fingers to my forehead. She could be in Tahiti, for all I know.

The double doors swing open and out pops Channing.

“Hey. I noticed you rushed out. I hope it wasn’t because of Samantha.”

Scott’s girl.

“No.”

“You okay?” he asks.

I eye him cautiously, searching his face. We’ve never spoken before, but I know he knows I’m the girl who dumped their president. It didn’t matter that he cheated; I was the one in the wrong.

“I’m fine,” I say quietly.

He approaches me, lugging his backpack, and another smaller one, a camera bag. With spikey dark hair and glittering sapphire eyes, he’s handsome, yet there’s always been an unapproachable vibe about him.

Quiet. Serious. He’s the type to sit back at parties and take it all in.

I’ve never seen him in the strip club. A point for that.

“You looked a little rattled when you ran out.” He glances at my phone. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Just a little family issue. I can handle it.”

“Cool.” He turns to leave but stops. “Are you planning on going back in there?”

I shake my head.

A rueful laugh comes from him. “Same. I was going to go to the lake and take some pics. This is my only class today. You want to, um, come with?”

I blink.

He grimaces in a self-deprecating way. “Of course, you don’t. You have classes and you don’t know me and that sort of came out of nowhere. Hi, I’m Channing, and you’re Julia. Sorry to be weird.”

“I remember you. You used to run the bar in the basement last year at Kappa. You’re a junior, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you take photos?”

He lifts the camera bag. “Photography is my major.”

My smile is wide. Photography is art. Getting the right composition, playing with the colors, adding filters. “Thanks for the invite, but I . . .” I point at my phone. “I’m waiting for a text from someone.”

He hoists the bag higher on his broad shoulders like he hasn’t a care in the world. “So. Boyfriend?”

I feel a blush creeping up my face. “No.”

“Good. Raincheck? Maybe tomorrow? We can go after classes?”

I sigh. “Is that really a good idea? You know, with Parker . . .”

He looks away, then back at me. “We’re not all assholes. Have you ever seen me being a jerk?”

“No.” But given time, his colors will shine through.

I stop that thought and exhale. Is it right to paint them all with the same brush?

He shrugs. “It was an impulse to ask you. I like company when I take photos. It can get lonely at the lake.”