Page 19 of Tell Me You Like It

Oh, God. Another party.

Butit might be good for Bree to get out for a minute. Maybe it’ll cheer her up, and we’ll make sure to stay together this time.

“Okay. Thanks. Can I bring a friend?”

Skye’s face brightens. “Yeah, sure. I’ll text you the info.”

“Great.”

And with that she’s gone, sneaking through the back door of the classroom.

Well. That was…nice. I guess I have a new friend now, which makes me smile to myself. I was a little worried I wouldn’t fit in at ExU. I have fantasies about blending into the woodwork here, but Bree was right last night. I can’t spend my entire college experience in my dorm room.

After class, I head over to the coffee shop. I’m starving, but I have to make my scholarship money stretch, so cafe food isn’t an option. But, at this point, coffee is essential to life, so I decide to splurge on a small cup of plain drip coffee.

I’m in line when I feel a presence beside me. I glance over and see Roman standing next to me, a cheeky smile on his beautiful face.

“My God. What are you doing here?” I’m sure I havedisgust written all over my face, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He snakes an arm around my waist and tugs me close to him. Then he buries his face in my hair, and talks in a low tone. “Play along.” Pulling back, he smiles down at me. “My next class isn’t for an hour. I thought we could have coffee together.”

I just push out a breath and try to calm my racing heart. I hate my reaction to him. I can’t help feeling like every other girl at ExU, fawning over the campus god. It’ssounbelievably pathetic. But tell that to my two beaded nipples, poised and ready to cutfucking glass.

When we get up to the register, I order my drink, and then he proceeds to order practically every food item on the menu. I reach into my pocket to pay for my drink, but Roman waves me off, handing the cashier his debit card.

Turns out it’s peak coffee o’clock, so all the tables are taken. Roman isn’t deterred in the least. He walks toward one of the tables, and before he can even say anything, the three people sitting there immediately get up and offer it to us—even wiping it down with a napkin first.

What the fuck?

I take the chair closest to the wall. Having the wall behind me makes me feel less vulnerable, somehow. Roman sits in the chair across from me, leaning back comfortably, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“I’m beginning to think I’ve stepped into an alternate universe,” I say with a sigh.

“Where’s your necklace?” Roman asks, ignoring my statement.

My hand flies to my throat, to the necklace that isn’t there. After putting in my purse last night, I hadn’t touched it. “It’s up in my room,” I answer.

He doesn’t look pleased by my answer–his dark brows drawn together in annoyance—but thankfully, he doesn’t push the issue. Maybe he knows I’ll argue, and he doesn’t want me making a scene in front of everyone. Appearances seem to be everything here in this alternate universe.

Someone comes over with our coffee and a tray full of food—fruit, pastries, croissants, muffins, and slices of lemon poppyseed coffee cake. I eye a couple of the pastries, and my stomach growls, but I deliberately don’t reach for anything.

Roman watches me. “Eat something.”

I take a sip of my coffee, my eyes never leaving his. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

He sits back deeper in his chair, his jaw working. He doesn’t like hearing the wordnoand I file that away in my brain. If Roman thinks I’m going to be one of those girls at the Prefrence Ceremony, throwing myself at him, then he's fucked in the head. I don’t roll like that, and it’s probably better for both of us in the long run if he figures that out now.

“Lux,” he says slowly. I can hear the frustration in his tone. “You need to eat.”

I lift my chin. “What if I’m not hungry?”

There’s something about accepting food from this guy that feels, I don’t know…intimate, I guess. I’m not sure why I feel that way. Maybe it’s a remnant from my childhood. We never had much food in the house. Before my mom ditched me for a cult in Florida, she raised me as a single parent, and there were times when the gulf between paychecks was so wide that we had to depend on food banks.

So, yeah, seeing all this food on the table just feels indulgent. I’m dying to sink my teeth into the chocolate croissant in front of me, but my pride won’t allow me toreach out and take it. So instead, I just take another sip of my coffee.

“I know you’re hungry,” he replies with a bored tone. “I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

I swallow back the embarrassment that suddenly rises in my throat. Damn. He can hear my stomach growling? Could he be lying? Part of me wonders if he’s just telling me that to unsettle me, and throw me off balance.

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