Page 39 of Resist Me

Why was he looking at me? Why was I looking back?

“I have a paper to get done,” I announced, grabbing my backpack. Slinging it over one shoulder, I headed for the door on the other sideof the cafeteria. I forced myself not to check if his eyes were still on me.

It was true that I had a paper to do. I already had the rough draft finished, so it wasn’t urgent, but I might as well get ahead of it. Nothing wrong with being a responsible student.

Chapter 15

Lincoln

That whole group had been staring at me, which was weird as hell. With four sets of eyes on me, I’d only found one interesting enough to stare back at. There was something about the way he’d been looking at me that made me hold his gaze longer. It was nuanced, just like I’d found him to be lately, and I wanted to peel it back layer by layer until I figured it out. Figured him out.

Then, he ran. I didn’t know why or if it had anything to do with me, but I wanted to know. I wanted to chase after him. And that was dangerous.

Whatever this game was that we were playing, I should probably shut it down now. If I didn’t, I worried this curiosity would grow into something more. I couldn’t let that happen. West was straight, so I couldn’t entertain even the barest hint of that.

But was he straight? He was flexible, according to what he’d said at my place a week ago. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. It was all dependent on if he happened to find himself attracted to someone. That was already a big ‘if’ and considering he didn’t like me, even as a person, the idea fizzled out before it had fully formed.

He was handsome. That didn’t mean much by itself, so it was possible I’d just been on my own for too long. A beautiful man was in my bed and revealed himself to be a puzzle. It just spoke to the toxic, red flag-seeking demon inside of me.

I met Brooks’ eyes and my brow furrowed. He was looking at me differently. Interest, yes, but also like there was a secret shared between us. It felt like he could glean everything I was thinking. Could he tell?

“I’ll see you guys later,” I said as I pushed off the wall. They all muttered their goodbyes and I strode toward the door, ignoring Brooks as I passed him.

There was a book I needed to get from the library, then I could go home. When I walked inside, the guy behind the desk, Diego, nodded at me. I returned it, but I didn’t want to get stuck in conversation, so I kept going.

I scanned the row I knew it should be in, humming softly as I did so. My finger landed on its spine and I slid it out. I couldn’t help but grimace when I looked at it. While I loved music, sometimes the study of it was boring and repetitive. It could also be difficult and I had to be grateful that I was done with football so I had more time to devote to classes.

I moved to the end of the aisle near the floor to ceiling windows. It had started to rain, as usual. There was something relaxing about this weather, though, and I found that I didn’t mind that it was gray so often.

Further down, tucked into a corner, there were a couple of cushioned chairs. I blinked a few times, trying to convince myself that I didn’t see West lounging in one of them. It was like I couldn’t escape the guy.

He had his feet on the edge of the seat with a notebook propped on his thighs. It didn’t look like a comfortable way to write, but he did sleep on his stomach, so he was clearly a lawless being.

I tucked the book under my arm and made my way over to him. When I sat in one of the other chairs, he barely glanced up.

“Why do you hate me?”

The hand holding his pencil stopped moving. “What does it matter?” He sounded frustrated by my question.

“I’m just curious. You’ve hated me from the moment we met, but you didn’t act like you hated me at my place.”

“You did something nice for me. I know how to be respectful if I need to be.”

“So, you do still hate me.”

“Duh.”

I wanted to convince myself that it wasn’t true, but I didn’t see the point in him lying about it. The rivalry never needed to exist, but especially not now that I was off the team. He was desperate to prove himself, to show me up. It was a ridiculous reason not to like someone. You could be competitive with friends.

“I’m not up for a cuddling session right now,” he said. “But maybe after I finish this paper.”

“Funny. If I wanted to cuddle, I would’ve done it while you were half-naked in my bed.”

He paused again. “I know I look damn good without a shirt on. It’s a miracle you were able to resist.”

“You’re not my type, remember?”

“Mm.”

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