Page 29 of Campus Crush
I closed my eyes, trying to recall that night. There had been so many parties that year, so many faceless girls. The fact that one of them had been Abby—smart, beautiful, kind Abby—and I couldn’t remember it made me feel sick.
“What happened?” I asked, dreading the answer.
Abby gave a humorless laugh. “Nothing, really. We were kissing, and then…you fell asleep.”
“Iwhat?” My eyes flew open in horror.
“You fell asleep,” she repeated. “Mid-kiss. I thought at first you were just taking a breath, but then you started snoring.”
“Fucking hell.” I dropped my head into my hands, mortification washing over me. No wonder she’d been so cold to me when we first started tutoring. No wonder she’d looked at me like I was the last person she wanted to see. “Abby, I amsosorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said, though her voice was stilltight. “You were drunk. I was drunk. It was a stupid freshman mistake.”
“No, it’s definitely my fault,” I insisted, looking up at her. “I was an idiot freshman year. I drank too much, partied too hard, and apparently missed out on getting to know an amazing girl because I passed out like an asshole.” I took her hand again, squeezing it gently. “But I’m not that guy anymore, Abby. And I promise you, if I had been sober enough to remember kissing you, I never would have forgotten it.”
She looked up at me, the vulnerability in her eyes betraying the courage it took for her to confess all of this to me. It was clear by the hesitant smile she gave me that she wasn’t sure she believed me.
I’d work on that.
This girl was burned onto my soul and she had no idea.
As Peach, she’d become a lifeline, but as Abby, she was someone real.
I would do whatever it took to make this right, to make her see that I was so far from that guy freshman year, it wasn’t even funny.
I would prove I was worthy of her attention.
Abby Walker didn’t know it yet, but I was about to woo the shit out of her.
I wasn’t dumb enough to let a woman like her go again.
SEVENTEEN
Bear went radio silent on me.
At first, I was relieved. It saved me from having to figure out what to say after he bailed on our in-person meetup. I was struggling with how to get back to our easy exchanges while dealing with the hurt after learning he’d seen me and still chosen not to come up and introduce himself. It had been my worst fear—the worst-case scenario about finally meeting up with him that I’d convinced myself wouldn’t happen. But it had.
He said it was because I was out of his league, but was it really? Or was he just trying to make it seem that way so he wouldn’t hurt my feelings more? I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else going on.
But as the hours and days ticked by with no new messages from him on our Discord chat, relief turned into something heavier.
The truth was, I missed him.
I missed our late-night messages, the dumb jokes about mayonnaise machines, the way he always knew how to make me laugh on the worst days. He’d become a constantin my life—someone I relied on and got to be goofy and ridiculous with. Losing him, even temporarily, felt like losing a part of myself that he’d helped me rediscover.
But while Bear was MIA, Foster was…not.
He showed up to every tutoring session early. He smiled when he saw me. He listened in a way that made me feel like my voice had weight and like the things I said mattered.
And slowly, subtly, he started closing the space between us. Both literally and figuratively.
At first, it was just a glance that lingered a second too long. Then, he started sitting closer—just enough that I could feel the warmth of his body radiating beside me, and occasionally feel the brush of his knee against mine.
It wasn’t overt. Nothing he did crossed a line. But it felt deliberate, especially when he’d glance at me at the smallest touch and his blue eyes seemed to darken with a look I was terrified to identify.
The lingering looks, the accidental-on-purpose touches, the way his subtle, manly cologne seemed to permeate the breathing space while we worked and made me lightheaded—it was wreaking havoc on my body and mind.
Because for every flutter he caused in my stomach, or catch of my breath, there was a swell of guilt right behind it.
