Chapter 13
DELILAH
I’m locking my apartment door, adjusting my bag, and mentally preparing myself for the hour-long walk to campus when an engine rumbles behind me.
I turn.
Troy Hawkins is parked at the curb, driver’s side window rolled down, grinning like he hasn’t just committed a crime.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand.
“Picking you up,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“I didn’t text you my address.”
“Nope. You didn’t.”
“So, how the hell did you find my place?”
He shrugs, way too pleased with himself. “I asked Lacey.”
My brain stalls.
“You what?”
“Met her and Brianna at my party Friday night,” he says, like this is totally normal. “They told me they were your best friends, so I figured they wouldn’t mind helping me out.”
My shock is immediate and borderline paralyzing, did Brianna go ahead with her plan and sleep with Troy?
“You—” I stop, shaking my head. “Hold on. Back up. You hosted a party, found my friends, and somehow tricked them into giving you my address?”
“I wouldn’t say tricked,” he says, tapping the wheel. “Just… lightly manipulated.”
Lacey is too trusting, too friendly. Brianna probably gave up my address the second Troy flashed his smile.
I stare at him. He grins wider.
“This is stalking, you know,” I say.
“Nah, stalking would be if I followed you home. This is just… strategic problem-solving.”
“Unbelievable,” I mutter, rubbing my temples.
“You should be impressed, really,” he says. “I had to be very persuasive.”
I don’t doubt it. So they did sleep together? Ew.
I could’ve stopped this, I mean I actually saved his number. I considered texting him, but it just felt too much. I can’t rely on him to bring me into school every day, that’s just insane. I didn’t text him, because I figured if I ignored him long enough, he’d drop it.
Clearly, I was wrong.
I exhale sharply. “Well, congratulations. You found my place. Now you can leave.”
“Or,” Troy says, “you can get in the car, and I can get us to campus way faster than you walking in the cold like a tragic Dickens character.”
Snorting at the reference, I fold my arms. “Mr. Abernathy would love that one. I was just about to leave.”
“Right, and that takes—what? An hour? Let’s cut that down to fifteen minutes. And who’s this Mr. Abbernaffy?” Him stumbling on the name is sort of cute.
I squint at him. “My boss. Why are you so invested in my transportation?”
“I’ve explained this, because I have to work with you, and if you freeze to death, I have to find a new partner.”
“I am not going to freeze to death.”
“Debatable.”
I huff, glancing toward the road. I could still walk and prove a point.
But my legs are already tired just thinking about it, and I know—deep down—that if our positions were reversed, I’d have done the exact same thing. Well, minus the minor stalking but I would have insisted I give him a ride.
I open the passenger door. Troy’s smirk grows.
“Don’t say a word,” I warn.
“Didn’t say anything,” he says, innocently.
I slide into the seat, slamming the door shut.
Troy pulls away from the curb, looking way too smug about this victory. And I tell myself this is just a ride. It doesn’t mean anything.
Troy is annoyingly cheerful for 8 AM on a Monday morning.
He drives like he does everything else—effortlessly, one hand on the wheel, his body loose and relaxed, like he’s completely at ease with himself.
I hate people like that. Even more, I hate that he looks so fucking hot doing it.
His UMS hoodie rides up a little and I catch a glimpse of his abs.
Delicious abs, I remember Brianna saying.
I gulp and look away. I try folding my arms, staring out the window, determined to give him nothing.
Unfortunately, Troy doesn’t believe in silence.
“What time’s your first class?” he asks.
“Not until twelve. But I like to get in early, get some work done,”
He nods, like he’s confirming something.
“Cool. Wasn’t sure, so I got here at seven and waited.”
I whip my head toward him. “You what?”
“Yeah,” he says, totally unbothered. “Didn’t know your schedule, so I figured I’d get here early, just in case.”
I stare at him.
“You sat outside my apartment for an hour?”
“I went and got a coffee, chilled for a bit. Texted my friends. Not a big deal.”
“That is a huge deal. That is psychopath behavior.”
Troy laughs. “Relax, Mittens. You act like I was lurking in the bushes.”
“Might as well have been,” I mutter. “You need hobbies.”
“I have hobbies. The gym. Cooking. Annoying you.”
I exhale sharply.
“Alright, grumpy,” Troy says, easily switching gears. “Where are you from?”
“Originally? Arizona.”
“Nice. Any siblings?”
“No.”
Troy waits a beat.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?”
“No need,” I say flatly. “I know you have one. Tara.”
That gets his attention. His brows lift slightly, a grin playing at the edges of his mouth.
“How the hell do you know that?” he asks, turning to glance at me. “Greer, are you stalking me now? Staying up late looking at my Instagram photos?”
My face heats.
“God, no.”
Troy laughs, way too amused. “Suuure.”
“She came into the bookstore last week,” I say, clearing my throat. “I saw her name on her student ID.”
Troy tilts his head slightly.
“So, you work in a bookstore. And your boss is Mr. Abernathy.”
I immediately regret saying anything.
“See, Greer? This is nice. Conversation. Getting to know each other.”
I glance at him. He’s watching the road, but there’s a satisfied look on his face.
“We don’t need to get to know each other,” I say. “We just need to work well together.”
“And don’t you think working well together starts with knowing basic human facts?”
“Not really, no.”
Troy grins. “Greer, you are truly a joy.”
I roll my eyes. Outside, the university comes into view, and I mentally prepare to launch myself out of the car the second he parks.
Troy just keeps driving slowly like he has all the time in the world. He drops me off near the engineering building, and I barely get out a grumbled “thanks” before he drives off, still smirking like he’s won something.
Annoying. I push him—and the entire stupid car ride—out of my head and focus. Because I don’t have time for distractions, I’m here at UMS for one reason and that is to build a future I can actually rely on. I have to graduate with top grades. Get a good job. Be stable, independent.
Because I’ve learned, over and over again, that if I don’t take care of myself…
No one else will.
Except Troy who will make sure you get to school safe.
Today, we’re going over urban resilience planning—how cities adapt to climate change, how infrastructure can withstand disasters. I soak it all in as much as I can. Because focusing in school is my way forward.
My way out.
So I take ruthless, detailed notes, ask questions, stay after to clarify points with my professor.
Because even though I have difficulty concentrating sometimes, I refuse to fail.
By the time I head toward the quad, my brain is buzzing with everything I need to get done before Thursday’s meeting with Troy.
It’s a slow start to the semester with my other classes, so I can focus more on the future innovators project than I thought.
I barely have time to react before Lacey links her arm through mine, practically dragging me toward their table in the cafeteria.
Chloe and Brianna are already seated, midway through dissecting last night’s drama over iced coffees and overpriced salads. I pull out my apple from home.
“Look at you, being social, we barely see you anymore,” Chloe teases as I slide into a chair.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, grabbing half of Lacey’s sandwich before she can stop me.
Lacey smirks knowingly. “Okay, but for real. How was your morning? You looked stressed when you got out of that car.”
I freeze mid-bite. Chloe and Brianna’s heads snap up.
“Wait. What car?” Brianna asks.
Lacey grins, way too pleased with herself. “Oh, just the one Troy Hawkins was driving.”
Chloe and Brianna’s eyes widen in unison.
“Troy Hawkins?” Chloe repeats, like she misheard.
“Our Troy Hawkins?” Brianna adds, already looking way too intrigued.
“He’s not our anything,” I correct. “He’s just giving me rides to school.”
Lacey gasps. “Oh my god. He’s driving you? In his car?”
“Yes,” I say, already wishing she hadn’t brought this up. “Thanks to someone giving him my address without permission. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s literally the biggest deal,” Chloe argues, flopping back dramatically.
Brianna, meanwhile, looks like she either wants to eat him or me. I’m not entirely sure which option is more horrifying.
“I’m sorry, Delilah,” she says, not sounding sorry at all.
“We couldn’t help it. He was even hotter in person—and so sweet!
Said he needed it to ‘help you out.’” She sighs dreamily, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.
“Like, I knew he was hot, but Friday night? Jesus Christ. If I’d realized he was that hot, I might’ve gone for him instead of Freddie. ”
“You were obsessed with Freddie,” Lacey reminds her. “You still are.”
“Okay, but now I see the error of my ways,” Brianna says, waving that off with a flick of her wrist.
I roll my eyes and try to subtly ask the thing that’s been bugging me ever since this morning.
“So, did you...bang him?” I instantly regret using her terminology, but the words are out before I can reel them back.
She scoffs. “I wish. He wasn’t interested. Once he had your address, he disappeared. It’s fine though. I got with Big Sexy Deano instead.”
“Deano?” My stomach twists. “The guy I was with last week?”
“Relax,” she says, swatting a hand in the air. “You didn’t even sleep with him. You said you fell asleep spooning. He was alright though—a very impressive man.” She waggles her brows and Chloe dissolves into giggles.