Page 75 of The Charlie Method

“The asshole was all up in your personal space,” an unrepentant Mitch retorts. “You can’t let guys slobber over you like that.”

“Why not?” I give him a smug, condescending look. “Maybe I enjoy it.”

His eyes flash. I think I hear him mutter “slut” under his breath, but I ignore the sting it elicits and watch as he turns on the heel of his sneaker and stomps toward his own row.

Fortunately, our professor arrives, putting an end to all further unwanted conversations.

But despite my best efforts to pay attention to the lecture, my gaze keeps drifting to Beckett two rows ahead. And it’s probably the dumbest thought to ever enter my head, but…

I like the way he sits.

It’s a massive turn-on, in fact. He has this way of leaning back in his chair with a casual confidence that makes my heart race. His shoulders stretch the fabric of his gray shirt just right. The way his muscles move under his skin when he shifts in his seat is almost hypnotizing.

When he turns slightly, providing a glimpse of his chiseled jawline and the hint of blond stubble that makes him look just a bit dangerous, my breath catches in my throat.

It takes even more effort to tear my gaze off him, but somehow I manage to do it.

LARS & B:

Have a drink with us, Charlie.

ME:

I told you I’m not interested.

LARS & B:

And yet you still haven’t deleted the app…

I’ve been staring at that text exchange all day. I’m pretty sure Beckett is the one who sent the invitation, since it came about five minutes after our class let out.

I want to scream.

Because he’s right.

If I weren’t interested in any of this, then Iwouldbe deleting the app. Or at the very least unmatching these boys.

So why are they still in my phone? Why am I still allowing them to message me?

Ugh.

Because it intrigues me. That’s why.

The idea of being with both of them is the very definition of temptation, but now that our harmless cyber-flirting is veering into real-life encounter territory, I feel like I’m out of my element. Even my alter ego who loves to take risks is apprehensive about pulling the trigger on this one. And ifCharlieis apprehensive, then, well, that definitely speaks to how crazy this is.

As I’m walking out of my last class of the day, I type out a brief text to Dante. It’s only three thirty, so it’s a long shot he’ll be free, but I hit Send anyway.

ME:

Need to clear my head and maybe get some advice. Are you around?

DANTE:

Yeah, princess, come by. It’s dead here on weekdays.

I shoulder my bag and take off down the path, my boots clicking on the cobblestones with every step. Gosh, I adore this campus. It’s one of the oldest in the country, and everything about it, every winding path and iron bench and cavernous library, just oozes history. And wealth. I mean, Briar was clearly founded by rich people, but all Ivies are like that. You’ll never find a humble Ivy.

I’m entering the parking lot when the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I suddenly realize someone’s walking behind me. Normally I’m very aware of my surroundings, especially when I’m alone, but Will and Beckett have muddled my brain and fried my instincts.

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