The Deal (Off-Campus #1)(36)
“Male?” I supply dryly. “Yes, I am, and that’s what happens to men in the morning. It’s biology, Wellsy. We wake up with wood. If it makes you feel better, I am in no way turned on right now.”
“Fine, I’ll accept your biology excuse. Now can you please explain why you decided to cuddle with me in the middle of the night?”
“I didn’t decide a damn thing. I was asleep. For all I know, you’re the one who crawled on top of me.”
“I would never. Not even in my sleep. My subconscious knows better than that.” She jabs her finger in the center of my chest, then dives off the bed in a blur of motion.
The moment she’s gone, I experience a sense of loss. I’m no longer warm and cozy, but cold and alone. As I sit up and stretch my arms over my head, her green eyes fix on my bare chest and her nose wrinkles in distaste.
“I cannot believe my head was on that thing all night.”
“My chest is not a thing.” I give her a pointed look. “Other women seem to like it just fine.”
“I’m not other women.”
No, she isn’t. Because other women don’t entertain me as much as she does. I suddenly wonder how I ever made it through life without Hannah Wells’ sarcastic barbs and annoyed grumbles.
“Stop grinning,” she snaps.
I’m grinning? Didn’t even realize it.
She narrows her eyes as she fumbles for her clothes. My T-shirt hangs to her knees, emphasizing just how small she is.
“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this,” she orders.
“Why not? It’ll only boost your street cred.”
“I don’t want to be another one of your puck bunnies, and I don’t want people thinking I am, understood?”
Her use of the term makes me grin harder. I like that she’s picking up the hockey lingo. Maybe one of these days, I’ll even convince her to come to a game. I have a feeling Hannah would be a great heckler, which is always an advantage at home games.
Though knowing her, she’d probably heckle us and give the other team the advantage.
“Well, if you really don’t want anyone to think that, then I suggest you get dressed fast.” I cock a brow. “Unless you want my teammates to witness your walk of shame. Which they will, because we have practice in thirty minutes.”
Panic lights her eyes. “Crap.”
I have to say, this is the first time a girl’s been worried about getting caught in my bedroom. Normally they strut out like they’ve just bagged Brad Pitt.
Hannah takes a breath. “We studied. We watched TV. I went home late. That’s what happened. Got it?”
I fight back laughter. “As you wish.”
“Did you really just Princess Bride me?”
“Did you really just use Princess Bride as a verb?”
She glowers at me, then points a finger in my direction. “I expect you to be dressed and ready to go when I get out of that bathroom. You’re driving me home before your roommates wake up.”
A chuckle of amusement slips out as she marches into the washroom and slams the door.
*
Hannah
I’m functioning on four hours of sleep. Kill me now. On the bright side, nobody saw Garrett drop me off at the dorms earlier, so at least my honor is still intact.
My morning classes drag on forever. I have a theory class followed by a music history seminar—both require me to actually pay attention, which is hard to do when I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ve already chugged three coffees today, but instead of giving me an energy boost, the caffeine just drained the meager energy I had to begin with.
I grab a late lunch in one of the campus dining halls, choosing a corner table in the back and sending out leave me alone vibes because I’m too damn tired to make conversation with anyone. The food succeeds in waking me up a little, and I’m early when I walk through the huge oak doors of the philosophy building.
I near the Ethics lecture hall and stop in my tracks. None other than Justin is loitering in the wide corridor, his dark eyebrows knitted as he texts on his phone.
Even though I showered and changed at the dorm, I still feel like a total slob. My outfit consists of yoga pants, a green hoodie, and red rain boots. The weather forecast called for rain that didn’t come, so now I feel like an idiot for my choice of footwear.
Justin, on the other hand, is sheer perfection. Dark jeans hug his long, muscular legs and his black sweater stretches across his broad shoulders in a delicious way that makes me shiver.
My heart beats faster the closer I get. I’m trying to decide if I should say hello or just nod in greeting, but he solves that dilemma by speaking first.
“Hey.” His mouth curves in a half smile. “Nice boots.”
I sigh. “It was supposed to rain.”
“That wasn’t sarcasm. I’m totally digging the boots. They remind me of home.” He notices my quizzical look and quickly elaborates. “I’m from Seattle.”
“Oh. Is that where you transferred from?”
“Yep. And trust me, if it’s not raining there, then something’s wrong. Rain boots are a necessity for survival when you live in Seattle.” He tucks his phone in his pocket, his voice taking on a casual note. “So what happened to you on Wednesday?”
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”