Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“It’s literally six oh four,” Lance says.
“Exactly.” Marty’s brows rise as if he made a good point, but, come on, it’s four minutes.
“Mart, we’re good. I promise.” I put my hands on his shoulders and massage lightly.
“I’m just saying,” he argues as I take the chair beside him.
We order pitchers of soda and a few pizzas, everyone around the table talking about being back and school and upcoming parties.
Halfway through my second slice of Canadian bacon and pineapple—yes, I’m one of those—I hear Damien say, “I have a class with Miles—the guy who got kicked out of Omega Psi last year.”
“God, I hate that guy,” Marty says.
“I thought your boyfriend was going to kill him that day he tried to murder Dax, then turned his attention on you,” Jesse says.
“Something’s seriously wrong with him,” Marty adds.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I interject. Is Miles angry? Yes. But for some reason, I find him super fucking intriguing—and way too hot for his own good. If he wasn’t such an asshole, I’d want to fuck him.
“You’re nicer than most of us,” Teddy says. Though he’s been in ATM longer than me, he didn’t move into the frat house until this year.
“I’m like sunshine after the rain. What can I say?” I tease, and everyone laughs.
“He’s definitely the rain—more like a hurricane,” Marty says.
“Okay, that’s enough. We don’t need to sit around and talk shit about him all night,” Leo reels everyone in, and when I catch his gaze, he’s watching me. He turns away, and I think maybe I imagined it.
The subject changes to a welcome-back party next weekend, but I can’t stop thinking about Miles. There’s not one person from Alpha Theta Mu or Sigma Alpha who doesn’t hate him, and while he doesn’t do anything to change that, I can’t help wondering how lonely that must be for him.
3
Miles
I’m on edge as I head down the hall, back to Figure Drawing, knowing damn well I’m gonna see Dax Armstrong again.
That first day, after walking out of the class, I went straight to the library to reschedule it. Figured there had to be another class with open spots. As luck would have it, the only other Figure Drawing class was full, so I went through the courses I needed for my major, searching for a spot in any available class that could fulfill my course requirement, but there weren’t any openings in those either.
Fuck. Me.
I can just imagine what Dad would say if I told him about my predicament: “Sounds like a good time to reconsider that major.”
He wasn’t thrilled at the idea of me getting a BA in art. He’d prefer something sensible—accounting, business, law. Something secure and stable since, as a CFO, it’s really the only life he’s known. He figured art was something I’d grow out of, or that would become a hobby, but here we are, and if his disapproval isn’t gonna change my mind, it’s sure as hell not gonna be some pretty brunet who bugs the crap out of me. It’s as if the universe conspired to force me to return and face Dax.
Weird as it is, if I hadn’t been following him that night, who knows what could have happened to him, so really, he should be thanking me for being a creep.
I’m a few minutes early to the studio since I should probably talk to Professor Reger about why I walked out of class last time. Unfortunately, Dax is early too, wearing a robe, sitting on a chair on the platform our stations surround, fiddling with his phone. I do my best to ignore him, but in my periphery, I catch the moment when he notices me. I clench my jaw as I approach Professor Reger’s desk.
“Hi again,” she says, pushing to her feet.
“Sorry, I just wanted to explain about last class.”
She tilts her head, a smile playing across her lips. “Don’t you worry, sweetie.”
“Huh?”
She chuckles. “There’s always one who gets uncomfortable. And really, I thought you might’ve withdrawn. Students do it all the time, but I’m so proud of you for pushing yourself to overcome your discomfort. It says a lot about your character.”
“Wait. I…” I’m so thrown. Does she really think I can’t handle seeing a naked dude? Wow. Not what I was expecting, but as she said, it must not be that unusual for a class like this.
“It’s fine,” she adds. “Don’t worry, you’ll catch up. And if there’s anything you want to talk about after class, I want you to know this is always a safe space.”
Safe space? What is she suggesting I’d want to talk about? I guess because I walked out when a guy was stripping, she maybe thinks I’m questioning my sexuality or something, but come on, I’ve been hooking up with guys and girls since I was a junior in high school. Don’t really need help in that department. But I’m also not an idiot, and if she’s gonna give me the perfect out, I need to be grateful and shut the hell up.