The Deal (Off-Campus #1)(42)
I’m halfway to Tracy’s car when the front door bursts open, and Garrett rushes out. He at least had the decency to put on a pair of jeans, but he’s still not wearing a shirt. Or shoes, for that matter. He hurries over to me, his expression a mixture of sheepish and annoyed. “What the hell was that?” he demands.
“Are you kidding me?” I retort. “I should be asking you that question. You knew I was coming over!”
“You said nine!”
“I changed it to seven, and you know it.” My lips twist in a scowl. “Maybe next time you should pay more attention to me when I call you.”
He rakes a hand through his short hair, and his biceps bulge as he does it. The cold air causes goose bumps to rise on his smooth, golden skin, and my gaze is unwittingly drawn to the thin line of hair that arrows toward his unbuttoned waistband.
At the sight, an odd flicker of heat travels from my breasts to my core. My body suddenly feels tight and achy, my fingers tingling with the urge to…oh, for fuck’s sake. No. So what if the guy is totally cut? That doesn’t mean I want to ride him like a cowgirl.
He already has someone else doing that to him.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he grumbles. “I screwed up.”
“No, not okay. One, you clearly don’t respect my time, and two, you clearly don’t want to pass this class, otherwise your pants would be zipped and your textbook would be open.”
“Oh really?” he challenges. “So you expect me to believe that you study twenty-four-seven and never hook up with anyone?”
Discomfort churns in my stomach, and when I don’t answer, suspicion floods his eyes. “You do hook up, don’t you?”
An irritable breath escapes my lips. “Of course I do. Just…not in a while.”
“What’s a while?”
“A year. Not that it’s any of your business.” I set my jaw and unlock the driver’s door. “Go back to your floozy, Garrett. I’m going home.”
“Floozy?” he echoes. “That’s a rude assumption, don’t you think? She could be a Rhodes scholar, for all you know.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Is she?”
“Well, no,” he relents. “But Tiffany—”
I snort. Tiffany. Of course her name is Tiffany.
“—is a very smart girl,” he finishes darkly.
“Uh-huh, I’m sure she is. Go back to Ms. Smart then. I’m outta here.”
“Can we reschedule for tomorrow?”
I open the car door. “No.”
“Is that so?” He clamps his hand over the doorframe. “Then I guess our date on Saturday is off too?”
He stares at me.
I stare right back.
But we both know he won’t be the one backing down.
I suddenly flash back to the conversation I had with Justin in the hallway the other day. My cheeks heat up again, but this time it has nothing to do with the fact that I just caught Garrett with his pants down. Literally. Justin has finally acknowledged my existence, and if I bail on this party, I’ll be passing up the opportunity to talk to him outside of school. It’s not like we travel in the same circles, so unless I want to limit myself to a once-a-week interaction in Ethics, I need to be proactive and seek him out away from the lecture hall.
“Fine,” I mumble to Garrett. “I’ll see you tomorrow. At seven.”
His mouth curves in a self-satisfied smile. “That’s what I thought.”
15
Garrett
I make sure to be home—and alone—when Hannah shows up on Thursday night. I’m more amused than embarrassed that she walked in on Tiff and me yesterday, and hey, at least it hadn’t been for the money shot. Hannah’s face would’ve been a hundred times redder if she’d heard Tiffany’s screams of orgasm.
Honestly, a part of me wonders if Tiff had been faking those porn star moans. I don’t claim to be a stud in bed, but I’m attentive as hell and I’ve never had any complaints in the past. But last night was the first time I felt like the chick in my bed was putting on a show. There’d been something incredibly…unsatisfying about the whole thing. I don’t know if she was faking it or simply exaggerating her pleasure, but either way, I’m not too eager for a repeat performance.
Hannah knocks on my door, but she doesn’t stop at one knock. She does it at least ten more times, and then two more even after I’ve shouted for her to come in.
The door swings open and Hannah stumbles inside, tightly covering her eyes with both palms. “Is it safe?” she asks loudly. Eyes still shut, she stretches her arms out in front of her like a blind person feeling their way through the darkness.
“You’re such a fucking brat,” I say with a sigh.
Her eyelids pop open, and she fixes me with a dark look. “I’m just being careful,” she answers in a haughty tone. “God forbid I walk in on another one of your sex fests.”
“Don’t worry, we hadn’t even gotten to the sex part. If you must know, we were still in the foreplay stage. Second and third base, to be exact.”
“Gross. TMI.”
“You asked.”
“I did not.” She settles cross-legged on the bed and pulls the class binder out of her bag. “Okay, enough chit chat. Let’s read over your revised essay and then we’ll outline a few practice ones.”