Page 60 of Wanted You More

Now, ten years later, he has no choice but to let me go.

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Kennedy “Kenny” Beckis going to be president of the United States one day. I’m certain of it. It’s not just the cute-but-nerdy thing that the freckle-faced, fair-skinned, glasses-wearing girl has going for her, it’s the brain she’s got too.

It’s a little intimidating.

On top of being smart, she’s nice too. She’s getting her bachelor’s degree in political science before moving on to international studies to change the world or something epic like that. For someone who stands at five-foot-nothing, she’s going to be bigger than life.

Then there’s me. Undecided, with no real direction and a schedule full of random courses that are requirements for my degree. Between the composition, history, science, and English classes, it doesn’t leave much room for anything exciting. Dad encouraged me to choose at least one class on a topic that sounded interesting to me, but nothing caught my eye.

Wolfe chose for me, which is why I’m sitting in a class full of computer nerds for Intro to Visual Art. I have no idea why my little brother thought web design was up my alley, but he told me to give it a shot since I didn’t put any effort into finding anything better.

A chair beside me is pulled out and someone drops into it, pulling my attention away from the computer to the boy beside me. He’s got huge headphones on that look like an expensive version of the ones Wolfe uses and he’s jamming to whatever song is currently playing. Probably sensing me staring, he turns toward me and instantly smiles.

The boy with floppy brown hair moves the headphones down to his neck. “Hey. I think I saw you at the dining hall this morning getting coffee.”

My eyes go to the coffee cup next to my hand, which is nearly empty already. “I was tempted to dunk my head under the dispenser but figured that’d be frowned upon.”

He grins. “Might be a little hot, don’t you think? Second-degree burns would probably be a shitty way to start a new semester.”

“The first semester,” I correct.

His brows draw up. “Freshman?” he guesses, giving me a thorough once-over from where my hair rests in a messy bun to the tight tee that makes it look like I have a bigger chest than I do, to the leggings hugging my legs, down to my flip-flops.

I don’t know why he looks so intrigued by me, because there’s literally nothing special I have to offer him. I’m not wearing makeup today because I didn’t have the energy, so I know my face is lackluster at best. “What year are you?”

“Sophomore,” he answers, leaning back in his seat and turning his music off. “Are you studying digital art or computer science?”

Shaking my head, I reach for my coffee and frown at how light the cup is compared to how heavy exhaustion still weighs on me. “No. I don’t know what I want to study yet.”

All he does is watch me finish off my coffee with an amused smile on his face. I’ve stopped trying to figure out what boys think because it’s a pointless venture.

Almost as if on cue, my phone buzzes and pulls my attention downward.

Noah:Good luck today

“Boyfriend?” my seatmate asks when I stare a little longer than normal at the text without replying.

I hide the screen from him. “It’s rude to look at other people’s texts.”

He doesn’t look ashamed. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Why do you care?” I shoot back, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

His nonchalance doesn’t ease my concerns, especially when he says, “I make it a point not to make a move on girls who are already spoken for.”

It takes me a moment to collect myself, giving Noah enough time to send me another message.

Noah:Let me know how it goes

Clearing my throat and sliding my phone under my leg, I reply, “How noble of you.”

“I thought so.”

He still waits for me to give him an answer. I’ll give the nameless boy this—he’s persistent without being too pushy. I suppose I can give him credit for that. But only some.

“He’s a boy”—I internally cringe at the inaccurate description of Noah Kingsley—“and he happens to be my friend.”

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