Page 2 of Twisted Minds

“It’s nearly one in the morning. I don’t want to walk across campus in the dark.”

“There are lights everywhere.”

“Are you serious?” His pretty lips pinch.

“It’s a five-minute walk, and you had no problem walking over here to get some. I think you’ll manage.”

His jaw clenches. Noah gets up, dramatically walking to my computer chair and yanking my sweatshirt off the back of it. “I’m taking this!” He levels me with a look that shrivels my balls. “I know you don’t want a relationship, but you also don’t have to be an asshole.” Noah slams my door on the way out.

Goddammit.

Whatever. We need to cool off anyhow. It’s fun and all, but Noah keeps finding more and more ways to linger, and even though he’s hot, there’s nothing there beyond the physical with him. We need to talk the next time I see him. I need to make it clear that this is just fun. I have no feelings for him.

Honestly, I don’t even think I’m capable of it.

Staring up at my ceiling hours later, I’m still thinking about Noah. The light, happy feeling of my orgasm crashed and burned quickly, and now I just feel like shit. I’m so tired of him being so pushy but I feel like an asshole now.

Lying here restless, I start to get hungry. It’s nearly two in the morning, so I decide to shower and grab something from the vending machine—there isn’t any other option right now on campus. And maybe a shower will make this gross feeling go away.

It’s eerie this late at night in the dimly lit halls, and when my phone buzzes, making me jump, I instantly want to throw it against the wall. Since that won’t serve me at all, I roll my eyes instead, squeezing it in my hand as I read the text I missed earlier, then laugh when I see the name I put Derrick in my phone as.

Dickwad:

Quad tomorrow at 11

How did I get myself into this fucking mess? Normal people would stop hanging out with people like Derrick fucking Shaw, but I’m not most people, and this isn’t a normal situation. I hate the bullshit with him but here I am still with no end in sight.

Jamming my phone back in my pocket, I don’t answer him back. He texted me a while ago and it is too late to deal with that mess. Still, I wonder what he wants to talk about, or worse, what he wants me to do this time.

I need to work faster but he gives me nothing, and with hockey season starting I can’t even get him distracted with drinking ora party. All I need is for him to slip up. I’m tired of being his punching bag, but I have to do this until I can catch him in his lies.

And I will catch him.

I dry off, slipping on a new pair of sweats, and grabbing my shower caddy, I walk down the eerie hall, careful not to make too much noise. I don’t have class in the morning, thank god, because I’m beat.

Turning down my hall, I stop when I see a man standing in front of the vending machine with his forehead pressed against the glass. I walk slowly by, taking in his built frame displayed very nicely in the sleeveless white shirt he’s wearing.

Lots and lots of muscles.

Damn.

He seems to be a little shorter than me. His brown hair is styled in that messy way you know is on purpose and close-cropped on the sides. As I walk by, I notice his eyes are closed, his mouth moving. Is he counting? “I think it takes money, not whispered sweet nothings.”

He startles, hitting me with wide brown eyes. “Jesus! You fucking scared me.”

“Ah, sorry.” It’s only now I see the bruise blooming on his handsome face. “Shit, are you okay?”

He scrubs his stubbled jaw, backing away toward the wall and sinking against it. “I’m fine. Just trying to get something to eat.” He rubs his head. “The machine ate my dollar.”

“What do you want?”

“Huh?”

“What were you trying to get?”

“Oh uh, I don’t care. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

I dig into my pocket and grab the ten dollars I was going to use for my own snack, putting it in the machine and clicking a bunchof buttons. I don’t really care what comes out, my focus is more on him.

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