Page 1 of Chase Lovett Wants Me

CHAPTER 1

CAMMIE

My phone pings with a message from my sister.

Essie

Video chat in 1 min!

I nearly collide with another person as I rush out of the communal bathroom. I flatten myself against the wall as Chase Lovett, hockey god, the most popular guy in our residence building and the hottest guy in first year, brushes past me without so much as a glance in my direction. Like I don’t exist. It’s basically the story of my life.

I continue my cardboard cutout impression as Chase, his hockey buddies, and two girls who haven’t spoken a word to me in the two months we’ve lived on this floor, continue down the hall, laughing and chatting. They’re probably heading to the common room. The Toronto Terror, the local pro hockey team, are playing tonight. I stare shamelessly at Chase’s retreating form, all six-foot-four of dark hair, broad shoulders, and magnificent, highly smackable ass.

My phone rings, so I quickly hold my lanyard to the lock andslip into my room.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Arwen stare intensely at me from the poster above my bed.

“Hey! Hi! Hello!” I say breathlessly as Essie’s two-dimensional image appears.

My room is directly across the hall from the bathroom, so I have no reason to be breathless. Chase does it to me every time.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” A slight frown tugs at the corners of my sister’s lips.

“Nope. Not a bad time. I was in the bathroom.”

“Oh. Fair.” She lobs a series of questions at me. “How are things? How are classes? Have you made any new friends since we talked last week?”

She asks the new friends question all the time. Essie and I are opposites. She’s effortlessly cool, outgoing, and has an endless supply of friends. I’m nerdy, introverted, and have two close friends, one of whom I met online. The other I met in my English class. It took me six weeks to say hi. Her name is Tally, and she’s the only person I know, who isn’t a grandpa, who loves Good & Plenty.

Essie’s phone is propped in a holder on her vanity, which is covered in makeup and application tools. Her straight, dark hair is pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head. She’s wearing a pink, off-the-shoulder sweater and dark-wash denim.

“Classes are good.” Especially the two I have with Chase. “And I talked to a girl in bio class last week.” I asked if the seat was taken beside her. She said she was waiting for her friend. I found another one.

“That’s great! What’s her name?”

I scramble for a name. “Her name is Greta.”

“That’s old school. Have you made plans yet? Did you exchange numbers?” Essie dips a liner brush in black liquid, expertly lining her dark eyes with a dramatic flourish.

“Not yet. But I’ll see her tomorrow.” It’s not untrue. I will see her tomorrow. But I will not be asking to exchange numbers or hang out. I sat three rows back and watched her friend slide intothe seat next to her. I’ve seen her with Chase before. Just talking, but still. We definitely don’t run in the same circles. If I had a chance in hell with Chase, she would be competition.

“That’s cool. Have you seen Brody on campus yet?” Essie asks. “I know a couple of other people on campus if you want their info.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t need to do that.” Like I want my sister making my friends for me. “And, yeah. We have a class together.” I fight to keep my internal cringe from showing on my face. I’ve managed to keep that tidbit to myself up until this moment. Brody Stiles is the youngest brother of Tristan Stiles, pro hockey player for the Toronto Terror.

Essie has always sort of known the Stiles brothers because of her best friend Rix, and I’ve always knownofthem. Tristan, Nate, and Brody. Brody and I are the same age, just like Essie is the same age as Brody’s middle brother, Nate. But until this year, my path had never really crossed with Brody.

Essie stops applying makeup to shoot me a disbelieving look. “What? Why didn’t you tell me that until now?”

“It’s Intro to Bio. There are like a thousand people in that class.” It’s held in one of the biggest lecture theaters on campus. However, I only noticed Brody because he was with Chase, who’s impossiblenotto notice. Chase is bigger than life, has more charisma in his left pinkie than I do in my entire body, and is drop-dead gorgeous. They also both live on the same floor as me in residence. How I managed to end up living with hockey royalty is beyond me. My sister is unaware of this fact, and I plan to keep it that way. I don’t need her to try to matchmake my friendships, swooping in to save me like some ethereal cool to my awkward weird.

But I’m not complaining about the number of times I’ve seen a shirtless guy wrapped in a white towel walking from the bathroom back to their dorm room so far this year.

“Have you introduced yourself to Brody?” Essie presses.

“I’ve said hi.” A total of three times, while passing him in thehall. Brody always initiates. Sometimes I get the sense he’s more like me. Not nerdy, per se, but quiet. Introverted. Like all the attention the sport he excels at is a burden and not a flex.

“Good. Brody’s a sweetheart.” Essie continues fixing her makeup. “How’s that submission for creative writing coming along?”

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