“Me too,” he says, and I turn my head just in time to see his grin. “What’s your next class?”
“Methodology of History,” I say, trying to plan my escape. I look at the time on my phone—an hour until class starts.
“Shit,” he says, and I glance over to see his face momentarily fall.
“What is it?” I ask, sipping on my water.
“I was going to take that class. I should have,” he says, biting his bottom lip.
I laugh. “I think you and I have spent enough time together today, don’t you?”
“Never,” he says, adding a cheeky smile. “Plus I know for a fact that I’m great company.”
“Who told you that?” I ask with a straight face. “Your mother? Because she doesn’t count.”
Grayson laughs at my comment, shaking his head at me. “Smart ass.”
“I try,” I reply, taking a sip of water.
He tilts his head to the side. “You never answered my question.”
“What question was that?” I ask.
“Are you single?”
“Why do you want to know?” I ask him, narrowing my eyes.
“I want to know if there’s any competition I should be aware of,” he replies, straight-faced.
I roll my eyes. “I’m single.”
“How single?” he asks, now grinning.
“Very single. But I’m also not looking for a relationship,” I tell him honestly.
He studies me. “I can work with that. Casual hook-ups work for me too.”
I throw my bottle of water at his head, and he bursts out laughing. Asshole.
“This,” I say, pointing between the two of us, “is as close as you’re getting to me, buddy.”
“Is that a challenge?” he asks, a playful glint in his dark eyes.
Men and their challenges. “No, no challenge,” I quickly backtrack.
“Challenge accepted,” he says, and then leans forward and rubs his thumb across my knuckles. I shiver at the contact and gape at the fact that he just touched me after what I told him.
“Personal boundaries,” I mutter under my breath, pulling my hand away. He’s about to speak when we’re interrupted.
“Hey, Grayson,” comes a feminine voice. I look up to see two girls standing in front of us, smiling at Grayson, and looking at me, maybe hinting for an introduction and sizing me up at the same time. This is exactly what I didn’t want. I’d prefer to remain anonymous. It’s easier that way, because I don’t want people to recognise me or to find out where I work. It seems that Grayson is becoming the exception.
One of the girls has dark brown hair and eyes and is staring at Grayson. She is dressed in classy designer clothes, not showing too much skin. The blond girl, who is the one that spoke, is slim and tall, with blue eyes and freckles splattered across her nose. I look at Grayson out of the corner of my eye as he stares up at the two intruders, his expression impassive.
He sighs. “Paris, this is my sister, Leah,” he says, nodding toward the brunette. “And that is her friend, Andrea.”
“Hello,” Leah says, giving me a genuine smile. “We’re going to see Dylan. You coming?” she asks.
He bites his top lip. “Yeah, I’ll meet you at the car in ten minutes,” he says.
“Okay, nice to meet you, Paris,” Leah says, grabbing her friend’s arm and walking away.
He looks right at me, almost as if he’s waiting for me to ask questions. But he doesn’t owe me any answers. We just met, so why would I even care?
“I have to go, but I’ll see you around,” he says, standing up and brushing the grass off his snug jeans. “Save me a seat,” he adds, winking before following his sister. See him around? My plan for today was to keep my head down, study my ass off, and not draw any attention to myself. I sigh, putting the rest of my lunch away, and grabbing my bag.
I’m sure that by tomorrow Grayson will have forgotten all about me.
Chapter Two
I’m one of those people who can’t get good grades without studying. I wish I was able to slack off, rock up to my exam, and ace it, but I’m not that lucky or that smart. I close my textbook after two hours of studying. I covered things we didn’t even go over today. Being the first day, it was mainly introduction work, covering the course syllabus. I decided to read up on next week’s work, so I will actually know what’s going on.
“Hey,” Anaya says as she walks in, throwing her bag down on the kitchen floor. “I’m starving.”
“I didn’t see you around today,” I say, tilting my head. Anaya opens the fridge door, and all I can see is her red hair sticking out over the top of the fridge door.
She swings the door shut with a push of her hip, a bottle of water in her hand. “I only had one class, remember? I went to work afterwards.”
Shit. I forgot about that.
“How was your day?” she asks, giving me a curious look.
“It was fine, why?” I ask.
“No reason. I’m going to stay at Paul’s tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time do you have class?” she asks. Paul is Anaya’s current boyfriend. I try to hide my expression, secretly happy she won’t be home tonight. In fact, during the last week, she’s been at Paul’s more often than here, and that works for me just fine.
Perfectly, in fact.
“Just one class tomorrow, at ten,” I tell her.