Page 16 of Elusion

“Fine.” She bends over to pick up her bag, and the bottom of her pink fitted top slides up. My attention bounces between the exposed skin and her ass. Once she straightens up, she stares me down. “I’ll find time between classes and studying to go to the ATM. You’re doing a superb job of making my life less complicated.”

I know she’s playing me, but she makes a solid point. I hold her gaze, fishing out my wallet. My eyes lower long enough to find a ten-dollar bill and return to hers. She tries snatching it from my hand, but I pull it away and hold it over my shoulder out of her reach.

“Do you need a ride to class?”

“No.” She looks up through her lashes. “I also don’t need a ride after class. Thank you for the coffee and settling my bet, but you shouldn’t waste your time.”

She slowly leans in and almost has me until her eyes dart to my hand.

So close, beautiful.

She grabs for the money again. This time, I let her, using the distraction to kiss her on the forehead.

“See you after class,” I say, walking away.

Before leaving, I detour to properly introduce myself to Cam on the couch. According to the Calliepedia—Felicia—Cam’s girlfriend lives off-campus. She stays with her a majority of the time, which gives Callie the room to herself. We exchange pleasantries and realize Gavin and her brother are members of the same fraternity.

And my alliances continue to grow.

As I pull out of the parking lot, I see Felicia walking to class. Unlike some people, she accepts my offer for a ride. I drop her off and pick up soup she recommends for Callie’s lunch from a deli downtown. I swing by for another coffee and park in the lot near Callie’s class.

My first lecture starts in ten minutes, but if she declines my offer for a ride, like I anticipate, I’ll make it on time.

Students flow out of the building as I wait for her. A few minutes pass and still no Callie. A double-check of the schedule Felicia sent me confirms I’m in the right place at the right time. That’s when I spot her through the glass door, walking out on the opposite side.

Rather than going through, I jog around the building.

“Callie,” I say when I see her.

She glances back and then picks up speed. Shit, she’s trying to ditch me. With her damn cup in my hand, I take off at full speed after her.

“I brought coffee!”

This revelation brings her to an immediate halt, and she turns around. Once I catch up, I bend over and rest my free hand on my knee, pretending to catch my breath. If she wants to make me work this hard, she can at least feel sorry for it.

Nope, she couldn’t care less. I half-expect her to tap her foot in annoyance. So, I change strategies and drink half her coffee. Over the cup, I watch her working hard not to smile. A small victory, but I count it.

“Here.” I shove the cup at her. “Do you need a ride?”

“No.” She walks backward, holding up the mostly empty drink. “Thanks for the coffee … kinda.”

“See you later, beautiful.”

“We’ll see.” She spins around and hollers back, “I might get better at hiding from you.”

When I drop off Callie’s lunch later, I attempt to give her some space. I set the soup outside the door, knock, and walk away. I even resist the urge to look when she calls down the hallway after me.

“Thank you, but you should stop wasting your time.”

I smile, rounding the corner.

With a few hours of downtime, I pick up a sandwich and head for the campus library. Physical books help me connect with the material when writing philosophy papers, one of which I have due tomorrow. I focus better with all the text in front of me at once instead of clicking around between windows and tabs. Plus, public spaces prevent me from pacing and ranting—a terrible habit of mine.

The paper writes itself after I get going. School has never been a challenge, and I easily skate through. But graduating next year summa cum laude requires a little effort. And Iwillgraduate summa cum laude.

For all my avoidance of responsibility and commitment, only my brother understands why I consider graduating with highest honors so important. Competition between the two of us has existed as far back as I can remember. Whether we have an interest in what the other does matters not. The only goal is, do it better. He learned to ride a bike at six; I learned at five. I beat his SAT scores; his pompous ass retook the test to show me up.

Well, two years ago, Dustin graduated, missing the top tier by a tenth of a point. It presented me with an opportunity I couldn’t pass up, which means I’ve maintained a perfect GPA with no intentions of letting it lower.

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