Page 1 of The Chemistry of Us

CHAPTER 1

TRU

Now

“You,”I snarled with complete and utter hatred. The word literally dripped with it.

I could feel it.

Smell it.

Taste it.

Maybe it was his ridiculously good-smelling cologne or the fact that he looked better than the last time I saw him when my foster parents were vacationing in the Hamptons a few years ago. His family was their neighbor.

This guy was the worst, and the cocky smile on his face proved he hadn’t changed in the past two years. His wicked green eyes narrowed to the point where I wondered if he was possessed as he stared at me with such disbelief that I stood before him. He leaned down toward my petite frame, his perfectly straight white teeth spread into a mocking grin.

In a condescending tone, he questioned, “You actually made it into college?”

I glared at him.

He always knew how to push my buttons to the point of infuriating rage. He didn’t even have to try. Just his appearance pissed me off to no end. He was aware of it, too, and all it did was fuel my hatred for him.

When he reached over to tug on the end of my hair, I clenched my teeth and swatted his hand away. The manwhore had no right getting close enough to touch me. He probably still wore the stench of last night’s one-night stand. If Vaughan—or as his friends and the press called him, Van—was good at anything, it was women. His pretentious smile alone could make panties drop. It was like his superpower or something.

The truth was, Vaughan Aires was the bane of my existence.

He was an undeniable playboy, and he was proud of it too. While he grew up with a silver spoon in his pain-in-the-ass mouth, I grew up as a charity case foster kid, which he often reminded me of. The mere fact that he stood in front of me as if he didn’t ruin multiple lives by simply existing made me want to slap his pretty-boy face in.

Vaughan was six three with green eyes and messy blond hair that always looked like he ran his fingers through it one too many times. Which only added to his charismatic good looks and enticing personality. Not to mention, he was built like a Greek god with his abs for days and a tight ass to match his huge muscular physique.

His friends used to joke that he never met a stranger and got away with everything. I didn’t believe them until I repeatedly saw it with my own two eyes.

He was everything a parent warned you about—from his charm to his wit to his appearance. It didn’t help that he was currently the best football player in the college league, and I only knew that because he was technically a public figure. The university held him up on a pedestal, along with the endless number of fans and groupies he had at his disposal.

The reporters loved him, although his temper made the news as much as his skills did. He was known for his short fuse on the field, causing more fights than the average player. Let alone the captain of the team.

“Move,” he abruptly ordered after a minute of us just standing there, taking each other in.

Harvard was a big college, and I convinced myself that once I was accepted for my freshman year, I’d never have to see him or run into him. I was an idiot to think this wouldn’t happen because I was bound to run into him eventually.

I just didn’t think it’d be so soon.

After all, we were only a few weeks into the summer session.

“Are you going to move, or will I have to do it for you?”

“Wow,” I breathed out. “I see you’re still the same dickhead I remember.”

“Good to know you still think about me.” He winked. “Can’t say the same for you.”

There I was, bickering with this asshole while both fists remained at my sides. I tried like hell to keep my cool, to maintain my composure and act like the lady I raised myself to be, but you wouldn’t know it by my actions. This uncontrollable distaste for him took over my entire body.

I loathed guys like him.

Men like him were all the same, every last one of them. Acting as if they were hot shit and owned every place they walked into with their I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. They knew how to flash their boyish grins and show off their dimples just the right way to grant them access to all the lust-infested girls’ panties. Their simple touch with their calculated, slick lines had those stupid, naive girls spreading their legs faster than I could yell, “They’re using you! Run!”

It was so cliché.

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