Chapter 4 #2
I don’t know how long it takes before I feel him move. I hold my breath.
“You know,” he whispers after a while, and I jump because he’s close. Too close. So much so that I can feel his warm breath tickling my ear. I want to lean into it just as much as I don’t. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, Clover.”
“Really? That’s a big step for you, Callum.”
He ignores me, just like I ignore how good he smells.
“When we get married, we’re going to have the same initials. Clover Keller, Callum Keller. Has a nice little ring to it, huh?”
I blink once, then twice. Did he just say…
I snort out a laugh, not caring if it’s loud and obnoxious or that several students turn our way. I’d do anything at this point to rid myself of the flutters in my chest at the idea of being someone so important to him.
It’s a fantasy, though. That’s never going to happen. Someone like him could never want someone like me. He turns heads wherever he goes and is always surrounded by people. I prefer hanging out in my dorm room, my notebook and pen in hand. We’re two different people. We’d never work together.
“Once again, my name isn’t Clover. And that is so not happening.”
“Are you sure about that?” He uses the tip of his pencil to poke my cheek. “You’re blushing at the thought.”
“Stop it.” I smack his pencil away. “I am one hundred percent positive. Considering I can barely stand to be around you, I’d say the idea of us getting married is not just pure comedic gold, but it’ll never, ever happen.”
“Really? You’re telling me no part of you has ever thought about it?” He inches closer. “Come on. I know you have a thing for me.”
Oh shit. How does he know that? Did Talia say something? Did someone catch me staring at him? Did he catch me staring? And why is he being extra obnoxious today? Did he make some sort of bet to flirt with me, and I’m the butt of the joke?
I swallow thickly, then force myself to say, “Dream on, loverboy.”
His grin widens, those amber eyes of his sparkling as he laces his fingers behind his head and leans back in his chair.
“Whatever you say, Clover.” His eyes fall shut, ready for his daily nap. “Whatever you say.”
The semester passes far more quickly than I’d like, and winter break seems to go by in a flash, sending us right back to classes and focusing on the final semester of our freshman year.
“Oh my gosh. I am so over this weather,” Talia complains as we walk into the mess hall. She pulls her thick beanie off her head, shaking out her long blonde hair, which is dusted in snow at the ends.
“But we’re in freakin’ college,” I echo her words from earlier in the school year. “Snow isn’t that surprising this time of year in Denver.”
“Yes, but I’m from Tennessee. I’m not built for this much of it,” she grumbles. “I guess it’s a good thing I look cute even when I dress like a lumberjack.”
I snort out a laugh, then peel off my own hat. Unlike Talia, I do not look good dressed in so many layers. All it does is make my already big body look bigger, and I hate it. It also doesn’t help that I’m on my period and bloated as hell.
I take my coat off next, hooking it around my arm, then smooth down my hair the best I can, even though I’m sure I still look ragged.
I overslept this morning, and my already minimal morning routine got even shorter as I threw on whatever I could find, ran a brush through my hair, and booked it to my eight AM class.
I barely walked through the door on time.
I try not to think about how my parents would be shaking their heads if they could see me now. I bet they were never late to class, something they so helpfully mentioned over the break when they found out I was struggling with my grades.
“College isn’t like high school, Chloe. You have to focus more.
Have you considered quitting the paper? It’s taking up too much of your time.
” That’s what my mother said when I rattled off my grades, even though I had worked my ass off to get where I was.
Of course she blamed the paper, even if it was the only thing about my studies that made me happy.
But she’s right. College is harder, and I do need to focus more, which I’ll admit has been infinitely easier this semester now that I no longer share a class with the most irritating guy on campus.
“Oh my gosh!” Talia gasps, pulling me to a stop in the middle of the room. “He’s here.”
“What? Who?” I follow her gaze across the lunchroom, where I soon find out exactly who she’s referring to.
Well, speak of the devil…
Callum Keller sits in all his glory at a table surrounded by his teammates.
Most of them are tossing what look like chips into each other’s mouths, and it’s clear they don’t have a care in the world.
And why should they? Their college experience is vastly different from mine, with them receiving preferential treatment just because most of them are hockey players on the fast track to the NHL.
But not Callum. He sits in the middle of it all, the corners of his lips tipping up every so often, but he doesn’t engage any more than that.
“Ugh, seriously? Can I not escape him?” I ask quietly.
Even though we no longer share a class, it doesn’t mean I see him any less.
Just yesterday, I went to the library to get a break from Talia’s incessant need to blast country music every chance she gets, and guess who was there?
Yep, him. And last week, I stopped by the admin building to see about a meeting with a professor, and Callum was there too, trying to talk his way out of a ticket.
Now here he is sitting in the lunchroom, and if I weren’t so hungry and craving something chocolatey, I’d turn around and march right back out just to avoid him. Thing is, even though I can’t stand Callum Keller, I also can’t seem to get enough of him.
Though it’s cold and the ground is covered in snow, it’s sunny outside, and that fact is only highlighted by the glow that radiates from him at his post near the windows.
The light makes his already light brown hair look almost blond, but it doesn’t make him any less attractive, and neither does the way his strong forearms sit crossed over his chest. He has the lumberjack look today, too, sporting a forest-green flannel rolled up at the sleeves over a white t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and his usual black boots. It’s unfair how good he looks.
As if he can feel our eyes on him, he turns my way, and I swear I stop breathing for at least ten full seconds. He notices. His lips draw up in his signature smirk, and I hate how it makes my body tingle, starting right in my toes.
“Holy shit.” Talia elbows me. “I swear he got better looking over break. Looks like he got a few new tattoos, too. God, look at those arms. How can anyone not think that man is hot?”
“Stop it,” I whisper harshly, and not just because I don’t want to hear the details. “He’s going to know we’re talking about him.”
“So what? It’s obvious he has a thing for you.”
I laugh, then grab her arm and drag her toward the food. “He does not. Not even close.”
“Oh, please. Remember last semester when he sat next to you every single class and flirted with you the entire time? Or how about at his last game, when he looked right at you from the ice? He is so into you.”
“First of all…” I pick up a tray, then a bowl I’ll fill with yogurt and way too many sugary toppings. “He was not flirting with me. He was just being annoying. Secondly, there were hundreds of students at the game. He could have been looking at anyone.”
“Right. Sure. Which is why he very clearly looked right at you and mouthed Hi, Clover. I’m sure there are plenty of other people he calls that.” Sarcasm drips from every word, punctuated by the eye roll she gives me.
“I wish he’d stop it with the whole Clover thing.” But even as I say the words, I don’t mean them. As much as I’m irritated by the nickname, there’s a part of me that loves it.
“You do not,” Talia calls me on my lie as I sprinkle chocolate chips over my yogurt, then move on to the gummy worms. “You think it’s cute, and I think it’s cute too. Even if boys are dumb.”
Dan, the guy with the magical hands, quickly became a thing of the past when, just before Thanksgiving break, Talia started seeing Shawn Hicks, a hockey player.
Things were very hot and heavy between them, only for him to dump her out of nowhere before the end of the year.
We spent most of winter break—including New Year’s Eve—either curled up in my bed or hers as I helped dry her tears.
“You were fun for a while, babe, but it’s just not that serious,” he’d said to her.
Though she won’t admit it, it crushed her, and I had to fight the urge to throw my first ever punch when I saw him the first day back at classes. She’s been in a sour, man-hating mood ever since. Not that I blame her, of course. That guy deserves all the hate and more.
“Still, I think he’s into you,” she insists, grabbing an apple, then tossing it back into the bin with a grimace.
While my tray is stacked with a yogurt parfait—or at least my version of one—half a turkey club sandwich, and a bag of pretzels, she has just a pack of Oreos and peanut butter on hers.
I frown down at Talia’s mostly empty tray as we reach the end. “Is that all you’re getting?”
She shrugs. “Not really that hungry.”
I want to tell her that’s the same excuse she used last night when I microwaved us noodles during our study break, but I don’t have the chance to before she barrels on.
“He’s still looking over here, just so you know.”
“Stop it. He is not,” I say, but I find myself peeking in his direction anyway.
Talia is right—Callum is looking over here. Not just over here, either. He’s looking right. At. Me.
I snap my gaze away. “Probably because you’re staring at him, so stop it.”
“He’s staring because he wants you to stare back. Because he likes you.” She sings the word like, and the guy in line in front of us turns around, brows crinkled together.