Page 22 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

I lift one shoulder. “Here and there.”

“That’s good, at least,” he concedes, rubbing his hand along his sweaty hair.

We each do a few more reps, adjusting the weight when needed. Finally, I ask, “Are we gonna talk about your girlfriend in my shirt yet?”

Logan glares back at me but rolls his eyes. “Damn, man. Why’d you do it?”

I laugh dryly and raise my hands in defense. “I didn’t do anything. Some of my laundry must’ve gotten mixed in yours when I changed your clothes from the washer to the dryer the other day. If you want to blame anyone for the mix-up, you can blame yourself.”

The same familiar glare stays firmly in place as he exhales and grumbles, “You could’ve told her she was wearing your shirt.”

“You could’ve told her she was wearing my shirt,” I argue.

“I was…distracted.”

“By what?”

“Other things,” he deflects, though I have a feeling I already know.

“No offense, but I can’t think of any other girls who would look better than your girlfriend in nothing but a T-shirt.” I bite my lower lip and shake my head. “Damn, Logan. You’re a lucky bastard.”

“Watch it,” he growls, but I know he isn’t serious.

I take a step back, not bothering to hide my grin, as I surrender. “Just saying.”

“She should’ve noticed it wasn’t my shirt.”

“You should’ve noticed it wasn’t your shirt,” I reiterate. “And you shouldn’t have lost your shit like you did, either. It was a dick move.”

His head hangs between his shoulders, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, man. I know. I was an ass.”

“You were,” I agree. “But I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to her.”

“I still think she’s the one who should make it up to me.” His mouth quirks up on one side.

“And I think you should get your head out of your ass and worship the girl, ‘cause we both know you can’t do better.”

Offended, he shoves my shoulder. “Hey!”

“Just sayin’.”

But he doesn’t argue.

Because he knows I’m right.

10

ASHLYN

“Thanks again, Professor,” I tell Professor Buchanan after class as I hoist the nylon strap of my backpack onto my shoulder and head toward the exit.

“Give me one minute, Ashlyn,” he calls back to me.

I stop and step aside, leaving plenty of room between me and the door as the rest of the class files out of the room. Professor Buchanan is, hands down, one of the most attractive guys on campus. Obviously, he’s off-limits to the students, but he’s also one of the most eligible bachelors in the US, thanks to his off-campus job as the CEO of one of the most lucrative companies in the world. To prevent burnout, he decided to teach a couple classes on the side of his main career at his software company. When registration opened, the class filled up within thirty minutes, and almost every single one of the students was female.

I, however, needed the class for my degree.

Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the view, though.

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