Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
SINCLAIR
M onday morning and I’m walking along the campus trails with determined steps, eager to get to my first class early so I can take a few minutes to go over my notes one more time before our test. The first few weeks of college were fairly easy. A sort of easing into the swing of things, I suppose, and now it’s getting harder. There are more tests, more papers due, more group projects coming together.
I hate group projects. I much prefer working alone so I don’t have to depend on anyone else for my grade. I trust no one and with reason—I’ve been disappointed countless times over the years by various people. Some random person I don’t know that I’m forced to work with will undoubtedly let me down. It’s inevitable.
I pushed all thoughts of August Lancaster out of my mind and focused on studying throughout the weekend. Well, after I slept most of Saturday away because the hangover that I woke up with was horrible. I barely remember getting back to my dorm room, though I know I found Elise with her golden god after I came downstairs from August’s room. I was a raging, drunk mess and dragged her away from the boy who was still hanging on to her hand. He didn’t want her to leave and we played tug of war with Elise for a second, before she finally jerked her hand out of his and told him to text her.
Ugh, and she tried her best to get information out of me about Friday night all weekend, but I wouldn’t say a word. The entire night feels like a secret that will die with me. Fuck August Lancaster and his tempting ways. He’s the devil.
Despite his Lucifer tendencies, I dreamed about him Friday night. What might’ve happened if I’d let him take it further. If I’d rolled around with him on that big bed of his, our mouths fused and our tongues twisting. His fingers between my legs, stroking roughly. Harder. Stoking the fire that burned inside me. I was so hot. Hotter than I’ve ever been in my life and when I woke up from the dream, it was to find my own hand between my thighs, fingers beneath my panties rubbing my soaked skin.
Elise was snoring—a sure sign she was also drunk—while I touched myself to thoughts of August’s wicked grin and naughty words and perfect, kissable lips.
I hate myself for falling under his spell. He’s not a nice person. And he proved that by admitting he didn’t remember the name of the girl he had sex with approximately twenty-four hours before he dragged me into his bedroom. And then he had that lipstick there. Like it belonged to that poor girl who probably left it behind so he wouldn’t forget her.
It didn’t help. He forgot everything while her memory lives on in my mind. What was her name? What did he do to her? Did he kiss her like he kissed me? Tell her she was stunning like he complimented me? I’m sure he uses the same lines on women over and over again because it works. All he has to say is his name—again, he admitted that to me as well—and women fall at his feet.
We are pathetic, silly creatures who fall for a man just because of his looks, money and power. It’s horrible.
I get through the test—it was easy, I aced it—and go to my second class, which is English 101. The standard first year class we’re all forced to take to ensure we have the writing skills to get through the rest of college. One of my strongest skill sets is researching and writing papers so this class is easy for me. The guy who sits next to me every single day and tries to get my attention on a constant basis, though? He’s struggling.
Our professor hands back the most recent papers we turned in and I smile when I see the bold A circled at the top, along with the comment “So insightful!” written below it.
“You kick ass in here,” the guy says, sounding miserable.
I glance over at him, noting the C- written on top of his paper. “Thank you?”
He takes the paper and crumples it in his hand before shoving it in his backpack. “I need to focus.”
“Why can’t you?” I probably shouldn’t engage in conversation with him, but I can’t help myself. I’m curious.
“You’re a complete distraction.” He grins at me.
I roll my eyes at him. “Come on, now. I’m not going to take responsibility for you failing this class.”
“I’m not failing.” He rests a hand against his chest like I offended him. “I’ve got a solid C in here.”
“That’s kind of bad.” I wrinkle my nose.
“Says the star student.”
“I don’t know about that?—”
“Didn’t I see you at the Alpha Squared house Friday night?”
His quick change of subject leaves me dumbstruck for a moment.
He nods, his dark brown hair flopping across his forehead and he swipes it out of his eyes. “I did. You were talking to the prez in his inner sanctum.”
“His inner sanctum?” I frown.
“Yeah. No one is allowed in that section of the house. You have to be invited in. He has—criteria, is what he calls it.”
I remember him telling me about criteria, but it was all specific to me. “We were just talking.” I shrug, trying to play it off.
“Yeah?” He sounds hopeful, and I nod my answer. “Good. Because if you’re with him, I know I don’t have a chance.”
“I am definitely not with him.” The words spill out of me rapidly and now it’s his turn to frown. “Seriously. I don’t think he dates anyone.”
“I know. That’s why I was shocked to see him talking to you for like…hours. I was also jealous.” He’s smiling again and I wonder how he’s so at ease with confessing all to me. I would never. “I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for weeks.”
“We’ve been in school for a little over a month,” I remind him.
“Right. And I’ve been trying to talk to you every day we’re in this class and you act like I don’t exist.”
I immediately feel bad. It’s not like I was ignoring him on purpose. I just get too into my own head sometimes and tend to ignore everything—and everyone—around me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to treat you like that.”
“It’s cool.” He leans back, sprawling in his desk chair, and I take him in. He seems tall—it’s hard to tell since he’s sitting down—and he has dark hair and eyes. He dresses decently—today he’s in a black hoodie and jeans. Black and white Nike Dunks on his feet, which Elise would call a red flag because she doesn’t trust any guy who wears Dunks—weird, I know—but I’m going to let that one tiny fault pass.
“What’s your name?” I ask because it’s the least I can do after ignoring him for the past five weeks.
“Tim.”
“I’m Sinclair.”
“I know.” His smile widens. “I like your name.”
“Thank you.”
“Want to grab a coffee sometime? Like after class?”
He’s wasted no time and I suppose I should appreciate that, but I’m still a little uneasy. Is this some sort of setup? He knows August and was at the frat house. Is he a part of it? “Are you in that frat?”
“Alpha Squared? Yeah. I just rushed and got in.” He’s grinning, and I wonder if he expects me to congratulate him.
I don’t.
“Do you know August well?” I ask.
“Not at all. That guy hardly speaks to anyone. Only his best friend Cyrus. That dude though? He’s cool.”
“Uh huh.” I have no idea who Cyrus is and I don’t care to find out either. “I have a class after this one.”
“Right after?”
Well, technically no. I have an hour between my second and third class, but he doesn’t know that. “Sort of.”
“We can hang out for like, twenty minutes. Come on. I want to convince you I’m a good guy despite my shitty writing skills.”
A tiny laugh leaves me and he looks pleased. “Maybe.”
“I’m buying.”
“Oh, well then. I can’t resist.”
He’s nodding. “Soon you won’t be able to resist anything I say or do.”
I don’t know why his statement fills me with the faintest sense of apprehension but…
It does.
We’re at the campus coffee shop after class and it’s swarming with students and faculty. Supposedly it’s the best coffee around, not that I would know. I’ve never come here. And when I admit that to Tim, he’s flabbergasted.
“Seriously? What the hell, Sinclair? You’ve been missing out on the best coffee in the entire city.” He says this with the utmost sincerity, his expression full of shock. I’m sure he’s exaggerating. “Are you from around here?”
I slowly shake my head as I scan the menu. I don’t even know what to order. “I’m not a big coffee drinker.”
“Damn, girl. You are blowing my mind left and right today,” he mumbles, glancing around the café. “Hey, there’s a table over there. You should snag it before someone else does. I’ll order for you.”
“Make sure it’s sweet and not too loaded with caffeine, okay?” I tell him as I start to head for the table.
“It’s a coffee place. All of the drinks are loaded with caffeine,” he calls after me and I smile to myself.
I don’t know why I felt apprehensive earlier. Tim is nice. Extremely friendly and open. Not an arrogant ass like some people I know.
One person I know.
August.
And I don’t even know him , I think as I settle in at the tiny table that’s right by the window. A few hours of conversation at a frat party is not necessarily getting to know someone. Besides, I have zero desire to spend time with him again. He’s a horrible, unlikable person.
So why can’t I stop thinking about him?
Frustration ripples through me and I check my phone to see I have a text from my roommate.
Elise: GG asked me to go to dinner with him tonight!
Oh no.
Me: You told him no, right?
I mean, she barely knows the guy, but here I am having coffee with a stranger so maybe I shouldn’t have said that.
Elise: Why would I tell him no? You saw him, didn’t you? He’s gorgeous! And really sweet.
Sweet. Ha.
But then I glance over at Tim, who’s animatedly making our coffee order and even pointing at some pastries behind the glass display, and I realize he’s kind of sweet too.
For now.
Me: You said yes?
Elise: I definitely said yes and I hope you’ll come back to our room around four because I’m going to need help figuring out what to wear.
Me: I’ll be there.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and glance out the massive window by my side, watching people walk past. The campus is packed. Thornhill is a private university and considered an Ivy League school. The competition at this university is fierce and if I want to do well, I’m going to have to work my ass off, which I can do. But that means no distractions. Like Tim.
I check my phone again, cruising through social media quickly, getting antsy as Tim waits patiently for our drinks. I look out the window again, my gaze snagging on a familiar face and I gasp in horror when I see him staring back at me.
It’s August.