Page 4 of Here Comes Trouble (Ian Crawford 1)

“Naw. RC’s aren’t expected to stick around 24/7. They’re not babysitters.”

“He doesn’t live in our building?”

“RCs live in the suites underground that connect the 4 buildings. Supposedly they’re super nice.”

Finally the top popped loose, and I cheered.

Carly’s lip twitched. “You’re a little drunk, aren’t you?”

“I think so, yeah. That would explain some things.” I considered it. “Not gonna lie, I drank a cooler and a half talking to Blowjob G—Vanessa. She was telling me about Ian.”

Carly’s eyes widened. “What did she say?”

No way. I was so not going there. Even if I could trust Carly not to open her big mouth—which I couldn’t—I knew the first person she would tell was Melissa, and I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. Drunk.

“Just that she is upset people are talking about her,” I said vaguely.

“Maybe she shouldn’t have done it then.”

“Everyone makes mistakes. We can’t hate on them for it.”

Carly laughed. “All right then.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t tell Melissa this, but I think Ian kind of likes you. I saw him talking to you on the couch.”

I put the bottle to my lips and resisted biting down on it. “Oh?”

“I saw the way he was looking at you.”

I bit down. “I haven’t figured him out, but I think he wants what he can’t get. Probably I’m the first girl to turn him down.”

Carly’s eyebrows shot up. “You turned him down?”

“See? That’s how everyone acts about him. Like he’s a god or something.”

“What, do you have a boyfriend at home or something?”

I shook my head.

“So why the hell did you turn him down? You should totally get with him. Unless…” She really looked at me then, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “You have had sex before, right?”

I shook my head again and she gasped.

“Alexis! He’s fucking hot and hitting on you. What the hell have you been waiting for anyway?”

I looked down at my drink. “I wanted to wait until I’m Eighteen.”

“And that’s when?”

“End of the month.”

“You’re crazy.” She shook her head. Then a mischievous smile crossed her lips. “But come October you’re fair game and open to be a slutty-slut?”

“Uh…sure.”

“I’m going to hold you to that. In fact, by the end of the year, I’m going to make sure you get it on with Ian Crawford.”

I tilted my drink and proceeded to drain a third bottle.

Chapter Three

The first day of classes, I was both an excited and nervous wreck. My very first class of the day, A History of Music, was at 8 a.m. and I’d never been a morning person. I sprinted across campus, my backpack flying behind me, and reached the lecture hall late. The doors were already closed. If it wasn’t the class I’d been looking forward to the most, I would have probably walked away. I hated walking in late.

Despite my attempts to be quiet, the door banged closed behind me and multiple heads turned to stare. I flushed a bright red as I looked around for an empty seat. Finally I spotted on near the back row and in the very middle. Great.

After stepping on people’s toes and making a general ass of myself, I finally settled down in my seat and pulled out my notebook, my cheeks flaming. Things took a turn for the worse about five minutes later when my stomach began rumbling.

Why hadn’t I gotten up earlier and grabbed breakfast? Because I’m an idiot.

I shifted in my seat and crossed my legs, hoping the change of position would shift things around in my stomach, but to no avail. The growling came again, and this time louder. A few people bent their heads to look down the row at me, and I stared straight forward at the professor, pretending not to notice.

When my stomach rumbled again, this time loud enough to elicit snickers from the people around me, a guy three rows down twisted around in his seat.

“Pass this up to her,” he said in a voice loud enough for me to hear. “Put her out of her misery.”

A banana landed in my lap. It had been too dark to see the guy’s face, but when I turned the banana over, I saw someone had written on it in that beautiful script that adorned all our whiteboards.

Love from Ian.

What? He was in my class? I thought he’d said he was studying medicine. I slid lower in my seat, feeling even more embarrassed. Still I peeled the banana and ate it. The damage had already been done at that point.

When class ended, I rushed out of the lecture hall with everyone else and kept walking when I heard his voice calling for me to wait. I was furious. What were the chances of him being in my very first University course ever?

“Wait up, Lex!”

I swiveled around to face him. “What do you want?”

He stopped in his tracks, looking a little uncertain and totally gorgeous. He was wearing the plain black shirt I’d imagined him wearing and it did accentuate his biceps and chest.

He hoisted his bag higher on his right shoulder. “So we’re in the same History of Music class.”

“Yeah, I figured that out when you put me out of my misery in front of everyone.”

One side of his lips quirked up. “Glad to help.”

I crossed my arms. “I thought you said you were taking premed.”

“I am. I needed an art elective and I happen to love music. I play guitar.”

I sighed. Of course he did.

“What seminar are you in?” he asked, pulling out his phone.

I didn’t need to pull out my calendar; I had my schedule burned in my memory. “Wednesday at 3.”

“No way! Me too. Professor Durst?”

“Yes,” I responded through my teeth.

“What are the chances?” He flashed me a grin before walking away down the hall.

I gripped the straps of my bag and took a deep breath. The seminar had at most ten people, which meant I was going to be forced to spend an hour a week in close proximity to Ian Crawford for the entire year. How was I possibly going to do that?

Wednesday had just become the worst day of my week.

But when Wednesday rolled around, I was spared alone time with Ian by a terrible flu. I hadn’t been sick like this since I was in elementary. For the first time, I was glad the bathroom was right outside our room. I made multiple runs in there to toss my cookies and when I could no longer get out of bed, I just rolled over and puked into the trashcan.

“It stinks in here,” Melissa groaned when she came back from class. “Seriously, you couldn’t get up?”

“I was asleep and woke up to puke,” I snapped.

“Well it’s disgusting. You should get up and shower. It will make you feel better.”

True—plus I could puke in the shower if I needed to. I pulled myself out of bed, grabbed my basket of shampoo and razors and padded like a zombie into the bathroom. All three stalls were empty so I chose the most private one.

I’d missed all of my Wednesday classes. Luckily I’d been to most of the lectures already, so it was only the History of Music seminar I was really worried about. Like it or not, I was probably going to have to talk to Ian about getting the notes. The idea made me queasier.

I showered for what felt like half a day, relishing in the warmth and the feeling of actually being clean. If only the water could cleanse me of my illness and make me normal again.

God, I missed being healthy. You really do miss what you have when it’s gone.

When I could finally tear myself from the warm water, I stepped out of the stall and realized I’d forgotten my robe in my room. Cursing silently, I wrapped a towel around me before shoving open the bathroom door. It connected with someone outside in the hall.

“I’m so sorry,” I began and then swallowed my words. Ian was standing in front of my room.

“Oh, it’s you. Then I’m not sor

ry,” I muttered. To my surprise, he looked momentarily hurt, and I felt a twinge of guilt.

“I actually came by to give you the handouts from the seminar today.”

Damn. That was pretty sweet. I took them gingerly, holding my towel up with only one hand. He smirked and shoved his hands in his pockets, glanced away.

“One other thing,” he said, frowning at the names on my whiteboard as if he’d just noticed them, “I guess there’s a group project for each semester. Prof asked us to choose a teammate, and I told her I know you.”

“Okay...so we’re in a group together? How many other people?”

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