23. Chapter 21
Emery
I glance around the dorm, the only noise coming from Oakley’s room, where she is on a call with one of her regular sugar daddies.
Will’s study group is going to be here any minute, and nerves have crashed into my system like paint being splattered on a canvas. Chaotic and messy.
Thank fuck Xavier isn’t here. I have no idea where he is right now, but I’m happy I didn’t have to get into a conversation about why I needed him to leave. Having more students see him in our dorm room is not something that needs to happen.
I stupidly checked the forums again today, and there I was, front and center, being carried bridal style by Derek, my backpack on his back.
The comment section for that thread is a series of photos tracking our progress across campus to my dorm and a whole bunch of speculation that was, honestly, a little gross. It’s a fucking nightmare.
I’m still not sure of my feelings about that whole situation.
Like, him carrying me and caring for me and not giving a shit who sees?
Actual swoon. But that is swiftly followed up by too little, too late.
And then a high dose of irritation that he just painted a target on my back for all the self-identifying Monarch Lovers.
Even without the headaches that are still lingering, this would be enough of a reason to stay in my dorm for the next few days. I have no idea how I’m going to make it to the dean’s office tomorrow without having a million eyes following me as I go.
Wait. Fuck.
If I’m seen going into the administration building, what the hell are the forums going to say about that? I squeeze my eyes shut and jam my fingers into the sockets and rub hard, trying to ease every ounce of fucking pressure from…everywhere.
It doesn’t work.
My phone chirps from its spot on the couch, and I glance at it.
Will: Coming up to your building now. Still all good?
I scoop up my phone and reply that, yes, everything is still good. Just like it was twenty minutes ago.
Staring at our messages, I will myself to feel something about him other than generic friendship. Anything. Even a pinch past friendship. But there’s nothing. Nada. Zip.
I have more feelings about Oakley than I do about Will. Which is frustrating as fuck.
Will is the kind of guy I need to be dating, I remind myself.
He is incredibly good-looking, tall, very obviously built underneath the street-smart wardrobe he wears, sweet, charming, kind, and likes sports, all of which completes a row on a book-boyfriend bingo card.
So why the hell don’t I get even the tiniest tingling when his fingers brush my arm?
Or butterflies in my stomach when he looks at me with those blue eyes?
It’s so fucking unfair.
It doesn’t matter. I’ll get used to it. I’ve faked interest before, and I can fake it again.
And besides, what’s that saying? Fake it till I make it?
I need to allow myself to be open to the opportunity, and eventually, something will spark.
It has to. I want my college experience, and if that gets to be with a hockey player, then yay for me.
I’ll just keep repeating all of his positives to myself every time I start to doubt. Manifestation and all that crap.
Even though I’m expecting it, the knock at the door startles me, but I pull myself together and hustle over to let my guests in.
Will and Vinnie are both there, with three other students that look vaguely familiar, which makes sense because they are in the same class as me. The boys both grin and I find my smile for them.
“Hey,” I start, but my words fade when the only girl in the group stares at the bruise on my cheekbone, which is actually starting to lose some of its purple and gain a little orange and yellow.
I flap my non-braced hand at my face and then my brace. “Had a stumble on a sidewalk, and the sidewalk won.”
The smile on my face feels more like a grimace, but I force it to stay there. I need these people to like me, so I can stay in their group and maybe expand my social circle by a person or two.
Will grins at me. “Can we come in?”
A zap of embarrassment runs through me, and I quickly step out of the way. “Oh, right. Yep. Sorry. Take a seat wherever suits you.”
They file in and spread out as Will stops by my side after scanning the room, his hand running down the length of my forearm until he can take my hand in his. “How are you feeling?”
I use my braced hand to give him a so-so gesture. “Okay. I took some more painkillers about an hour ago, so they should be working their magic any minute now.”
The smile returns to his face. “So, you got my care package?”
Confused, I cock my head to the side, eyes a little narrowed. “Care package?”
But before Will can answer, Vinnie pipes up from his spot on the couch. “Nicholas, is Oakley home?”
I roll my eyes as I turn my attention to Vinnie. “I thought I asked you to call me Emery?”
Vinnie shrugs, his Italian features smoothing out with his absolute lack of shame. “People only fall into three categories for me. Family. Friends. Flirts. Family and friends get nicknames. People I want to flirt with get first names.”
I put my hand on my chest and gasp with fake indignation. “And you don’t want to flirt with me?”
He smirks at me, gaze flicking to Will and back. “Nicholas, I tell you what, when this guy fucks it up with you, I’ll swoop right in and make all your dreams come true.”
“Fuck off, Morello,” Will growls as he cups my elbow and guides me over to the couch.
I stamp down the annoyance at being guided to my own furniture and answer Vinnie’s question. “She’s in her room.”
Like he can see through the wall, he glances in that direction but opts to stay where he is, which is probably for the best. The guy is the black-haired version of a golden retriever puppy.
Wants approval from everyone, so gets it by being super cute and overly flirty, which is a hilarious look on a six-foot, dark-featured, olive-skinned athlete.
“Ah, aren’t you going to introduce us?” one of the guys who is sitting at the table asks to no one in particular.
My cheeks burn, and I turn to face the three other people in the dorm. “Ah, sorry. I’m going to blame my lack of manners on the minor concussion.”
One of the guys nods, and I assume it’s the one that spoke. “Yeah, I get that. Well, I’m Brandon, anyway.”
“Vanessa,” the girl pipes up.
“Gregory, but everyone calls me Greg,” the last guy replies.
“There’s usually one more of us, but Charli had to work today,” Vanessa adds as she glances around. “If we keep this location, we’ll need to get another chair.”
“I have one in my room,” I offer before I can stop myself. Do I really want these people invading my space every Thursday?
Vanessa beams at me. “Perfect. Okay, I need someone to explain the way Professor King talked logarithmic functions last week, because that was not how I was taught.”
And that’s how we pass the next hour, everyone asking each other questions and providing support. Other than this week’s classes, I was good on the content and spent most of the time reading over what I could manage before my head felt like it was going to explode.
Once the hour is up, Brandon, Vanessa, and Greg all leave, but Vinnie and Will stay back. When Oakley finally ventures out of her room, cheeks a little rosy, the reason Vinnie was still here becomes clear.
At the click of her door opening, he immediately turns around to face her, flirt mode activating before he even manages to join her in the kitchen. I huff out a laugh and turn back to my laptop, not that I was doing much on it besides tapping the keyboard to keep the screen awake.
When fingers brush against the exposed skin of my shoulder, I stifle the urge to look at Will’s hand.
He draped it over the back of the couch a while ago, when we started working on some equations together, and I didn’t protest. And, apparently, now that we are alone on the couch, we have progressed into allowed-to-touch territory.
Swallowing, I try to concentrate on the notes between us and chant my new mantra to myself.
This is fine. It’s fine. I’m fine. He’s fine. Everything is fine.
Pretty sure that’s from a meme or something, but whatever. It’s working for me. Kind of.
“Did you need to go over anything else from this week?” Will asks, voice pitched low enough that it’s only for me and him.
“No, I think I’m good. I was a little bit ahead before…the weekend, and just going over it has me remembering most of it.”
“And that’s exactly why we wanted you in our study group,” he replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
Before I can reply, my phone lights up from its spot on the couch next to me, and I reflexively glance at it before quickly scooping it up and angling it so Will can’t see.
Xavier: Tell the hockey player to remove his arm.
I frown at the screen. How does he know that Will has his arm around me? Did he somehow slip back into the dorm without me noticing? Turning in my spot, I scan the rest of the living space for any sign of him, but nope. His bag isn’t here, and neither are his boots.
Besides, I’m very confident that if he had come back, the three people at the table would have made some sort of fuss about it. I settle back into the couch and somehow end up tucked even farther into Will’s side.
Me: ???
Immediate Read status. That is either very, very interesting or very, very worrying.
A picture message comes through.
Worrying. Definitely worrying.
Xavier: *A still-frame image of Will and me sitting on the couch, his arm around me and a hint of Vinnie near the kitchen.*
My mouth falls open. Does he have a camera in my dorm? Is he spying on me right now? I roll my eyes at myself—what a dumb fucking question. Of course he’s spying on me right now. A hot, liquidy feeling rolls around in my stomach and up into my chest, coiling around my heart.
What the hell? Surveilling me like I’m some sort of, of…of child who needs a monitor?