“Callahan O’Reilly, huh? Lucky you.” Chessly said, dipping whipped cream off the top of her matcha with a spoon.
I nearly gave myself a headache with how hard I rolled my eyes. “Obviously, Dr. Dair hates me.” I fingered one half of my blueberry muffin into crumbs and berries. “If I’d made any kind of positive impression on him in the past two years, he would have let me work with Axel. Or maybe one of the poli-sci majors taking the class. Instead, he pairs me with the Big Man on Campus himself, Callahan freakin’ O’Reilly.” I stared glumly at my mangled muffin and sighed.
My friend laughed. “Big Man on Campus?”
“Gah! You should have been at the library the other night.” Glancing at her, I amended myself. “On second thought, you shouldn’t have been there. You probably would have experienced PTSD or something.”
She licked whipped cream from her spoon and pointed it at me. “Explain.”
“Tory Miller showed up with a group of giggling freshman sycophants in her wake. Their tittering and posing and twirling their hair made me ashamed for feminists everywhere. I swear, you would have thought they’d never seen a man before.”
Chess stared across the table at me with eyes three times their normal size. “You’re heading off into a tangent, J.”
Slouching back in my chair, I continued. “From the territorial way she acted, I think she and Hotshot have something going on. The whole time she interrupted us, she ignored me, even after Callahan pointed out I was sitting right there.”
I arranged blueberries in a half-circle around the intact part of my muffin and shook my head. “You deserve combat pay—or at least an additional scholarship—for putting up with that walking nightmare on your floor last fall. If she’d been on mine, I’d have lost my job for gluing her door shut with her in her room.”
My friend shot me a glare from beneath her brows. “Why couldn’t you have suggested that idea last year?”
Chuckling, I popped a blueberry in my mouth. “We both would have lost our jobs, but it might have been worth it.” I drew a pattern in the crumbs on the plate. “What does it say of Hotshot that he has something going with her?”
Chessly’s eyes glittered. “That bugs you, doesn’t it?”
With a shrug, I tried to convey a nonchalance I was far from feeling. I had no interest in Callahan O’Reilly. None. Whatsoever.
“I don’t understand why guys always go for clichés. Tory’s superficial pretty only hides her bone-deep ugly until she opens her mouth. Apparently, guys are too focused on her bright red lips to listen to what comes out of them.” I tore a hunk off the intact part of my muffin, popped it in my mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Anyway, her appearance at our table the other night interrupted our flow. Now we’re behind on planning our project.” Under my breath I muttered, “Pain in my ass.”
A laugh snorted out of Chess. “On the plus side, looking at your partner across the table when you’re working together is not a hardship.”
I threw a blueberry at her.
Chessly Clarke and I had been friends since we were randomly assigned as roommates freshman year. Both of us needed a residence advisor job to offset living expenses since our academic scholarships didn’t pay the rent. Instead of competing, we joined forces during RA candidate class, which meant we ended up being the only two sophomore RAs on campus last year. To say we had each other’s backs was an understatement. The only person I trusted more was Axel.
The alarm on my phone vibrated in my pocket, reminding me of my shift at the candy store. “Duty calls.” I tossed back what was left of my muffin and pushed away from the table. “See you after dinner for the RA meeting.”
“See you then.” Grinning, she picked up her tea and shouldered her backpack. “Don’t let Callahan run through your mind too many times today.”
Before I could tell her that was absolutely not a problem, she was two tables away and moving fast, her chuckles lingering in my ears.
The afternoon crawled by. It was one of those glorious cut-glass, blue-sky days that only show up in the fall, and I was stuck inside the Union at the sweet shop when no one was in the mood for sugary snacks. I finished rereading Persuasion, writing copious notes in the margins. It was something else Chess made fun of me for—reading old-school paperbacks rather than reading and making notes on my computer. So what if it made me seem old-fashioned? I liked the feel and smell of books. Plus, I’d read several studies proving people retained more of what they read when they read hard copy rather than digital. Since I had to read everything twice to anchor it in my head as it was, I wanted any additional advantage I could find.
At the end of my shift, I tucked my books in my backpack and was out the door before the next shift had even tied on her apron. As I stepped outside the Union into the square, I breathed in energizingly crisp autumn air. When I opened my eyes, Callahan O’Reilly was standing directly in front of me.
“Hel-lo, Jamaica.” His sexy smile did inappropriate things to my insides.
“Hello, Hotshot,” was out of my mouth before I could stop it.
My face heated as I stepped around him.
Not taking the hint, he fell into step with me as I headed across the square in the direction of the dorms. “Hotshot, huh?” There was a grin in his voice. “Accurate, Island Girl.”
My brow went up when I spared him a glance, and his grin morphed into a delighted smile.
“Where are you headed in such a hurry?”
“Home so I can grab dinner before my meeting.”
“Parking lot is that way.” He gestured behind us with his thumb.
“Dorms are this way.” I kept walking.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and matched my stride. “Aren’t you a junior? Why do you still live in the dorms?”
“Because I can’t get enough of hanging out with freshman girls who spend their time simpering and giggling for the attention of upper-class athletes.” Over my shoulder I gifted him the eye roll of all eye rolls. “My scholarship only covers tuition. I make up the rest working as a resident assistant.”
“That mean you have a single room?”
“The one true perk of the job.”
We traversed the yard between Creston and Seagram Halls. One of the pluses of living in the dorms was their proximity to the buildings housing most of the humanities classes on campus. It meant on days when I overslept my alarm, I still made it to class on time.
“Good to know.”
“Come again?”
“It’s always better to have your own space when you’re entertaining guests, yeah?”
I narrowed my eyes at the unholy mischief dancing in his. “That’s none of your business.”
“It will be.”
I stopped and glared at him. “Excuse me? Outside of English class and our project, neither of us has a say in the other’s business.” Picking up my pace, I brushed past him. “Which is why I ended our first meeting early when your girlfriend showed up.”
“My girlfriend?”
I talked over him. “Because who you date is none of my business, even if you don’t know how to pick ’em.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not dating anyone—yet.” The warning tone in his voice drew my gaze to his heated one.
“Have you told Tory Miller? Because I had the distinct impression she thinks the two of you are a thing.”
We’d made it to the block of dorms, and I cut across the empty street to the front of mine.
Callahan laughed. “Are you jealous?”
“Hardly.” I infused my tone with all the disdain of Persuasion’s Lady Russell when she referred to anything involving Captain Wentworth.
He laughed again, and it was all I could do to keep from stomping my foot to emphasize my point.
“You live in the all-women’s dorm?” Under his breath I thought I heard him add, “That’s unhandy.”
Why would it matter to him where I lived?
“Like I said”—I shrugged—“I can’t get enough of silly freshmen girls.” Shooting him a smirk, I added, “Kinda like some hotshot football players, apparently.”
He stopped dead in front of me. “Wait a sec. Have I been reading this all wrong? I mean, I picked up that your friend is gay, but you are too?” The only way to describe his expression was stricken, and it was all I could do not to laugh.
“Would it bother you if I was?”
“You have no idea.” Something in my demeanor must have tipped him off because his massive shoulders relaxed, and the corner of his lips tipped up. “But I didn’t read you wrong. You like guys.”
“Not all of them.”
“Callahan! Hi, Callahan!” Some of the giggling horde from the other night sang his name as they exited Hanover Hall. I let out a sigh of relief that I didn’t recognize any of them as living on my floor.
“Looks like your fan club has arrived. I’ll leave you to them.” I didn’t bother to hide my mirth at his horrified expression as four or five simpering freshman girls crowded him.
“Island Girl, you can’t leave me here alone like this,” he pleaded as he avoided the grabby hands of two of the bolder ones who attempted to link arms with him.
“Sorry, Hotshot. I told you I have to hustle home for dinner and a meeting. See you in class.”
As I made my way to the front door of Hanover, I heard the girls inviting—or rather, demanding—he join them for dinner in the dining hall on the opposite corner of the dorm. When I stepped inside the lobby, I glanced back through the glass doors to see him walking backward the way we’d come, his hands up in front of him as he warded off their come-ons. Though I didn’t stick around to watch, I had the idea he might have to make a run for it to escape them. All the way to my room, I chortled at the mental image of the big, strong football player running away from a posse of freshmen girls.