Chapter 3
CAMMIE
When I came in, my roommate Rose was on her bed, her pillows propping her up with her laptop resting on her thighs.
She was in gray sweatpants and a soft pink turtleneck.
Her hair was in a loose braid that rested over one shoulder.
Spa music was set to low and the scent of buttered popcorn lingered in the air.
“Hey,” I said, setting my bag on my desk.
We lived in one of the older dorms so the room was small.
Enough for beds, dressers, and desks for each of us.
In the space in the middle, we found a shaggy turquoise blue rug for warmth since the floor was cold linoleum.
A string of white fairy lights were on over the window that faced the quad.
“I thought you were staying late at the library,” she added.
“I had tutoring.”
“That’s right. How’d it go? I–Cammie… whose sweatshirt is that?”
I looked down at myself, at the enormous, yet thick and cozy sweatshirt. It smelled like him.
Him being Zeb Wilder. The very popular guy who didn’t want me walking home by myself.
“Oh, the guy I’m tutoring. I forgot my coat.”
She popped off the bed faster than if there’d been a fire drill. She came to me, spun me around to face her. Where I was short, she was tall. I was fair, she was dark. She exercised. I… did not. Okay, I did yoga with her on Tuesday nights, but that was it. Her dark eyes were lit with excitement.
“Is it Zeb Wilder?” she asked.
I frowned. “What are you, a mind reader?”
She shook her head. “It’s on the back of the sweatshirt.”
I tried to look over my shoulder, but it was impossible.
“Do you know what this means?” she asked.
I sighed. “What? That I was an idiot for forgetting my coat when it’s really cold?”
“No. It means Zeb Wilder likes you.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes, turned and unzipped my backpack to get out my books. “It does not. He was just being–”
“Possessive.”
I spun around to give her my full attention. “What? No. Absolutely not. He had girls coming up to him and touching him. Saying hi and pretty much throwing their panties on him like a ring toss.”
Her excitement slipped. “Was he flirting back?”
I thought for a second. “Well, no. Guys said hi to him, too.”
“Did he give his sweatshirt to anyone else?”
“No.” I dropped three textbooks on my desk, flipped on the little lamp. “I don’t know why you’re making a big deal of this.”
“Because it’s Zeb Wilder.”
“He’s just a guy.”
“A gorgeous guy.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “He is that.”
She studied me. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“He’s the star quarterback.”
“Okay,” I said with a shrug.
Her eyes widened at my lack of interest. “Okay? Okay? He singlehandedly got the team a bowl trophy.”
I frowned. “I thought football was a team sport.”
She rolled her eyes and set her hands on her hips. “If you came with me and the others to a game like I always ask, you’d know something about it. Something about him. He’s just that good. He’ll probably go pro.”
“You know that’s not my thing,” I countered. If he really was that popular on campus, then everyone staring at him in the library made sense. Plus, explained why everyone came up to him and said hi.
“Well, you’re his thing,” she pointed at the sweatshirt.
“I am not.” While I said that, I felt excited at the prospect of Zeb Wilder liking me.
Not the football star, because I really didn’t care, but the guy who’d sat across from me.
Even though he was struggling with genomes, he was smart.
Everyone struggled in the genetics class.
I had the professor the year before for chemistry and she was brutal.
Zeb was also… nice. And he seemed to see me. In an entire library full of people, I was the one he kept his focus on.
I thought it was because I was the key to his passing his class, but was it more?
No.
The girl who’d touched his shoulder had been gorgeous. I wore leggings because they were comfy and warm. She wore them because she was proud of her body. If I was tall, toned, and perfect like her, I’d flaunt it, too.
Okay, I wouldn’t.
“Rose, look at me.” I pointed at my hair. “I’m just a few steps up from not smelling. I didn’t even brush my hair this morning, just put it up like this.”
I wasn’t insulted by her slight wince.
I gave her a pointed stare. “I lost a pencil in my hair. No way Zeb Wilder, let alone any guy on campus, is into me.”
She set her hand on my arm. “Okay, we gotta work on your self-esteem. You’re gorgeous.
I’ll give you the messy hair, but it’s exam week.
I’ve seen people out in their pajamas. He can see what I see.
You’re so fucking pretty and you don’t even know it.
I wish I had lips like that. Look at mine.
” She pointed at herself. “It’s like they were put on upside down and it looks like I’m frowning all the time.
You have blue eyes I’d give my right boob for. And–”
I held up my hand. “I get it. I need to try harder.”
She shook her head. “If you’re wearing his sweatshirt, that means you don’t.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Ugh!” she flung up her hands, went to her cell and sent a text. As I grabbed a soda from our mini-fridge, there was a quick knock. Faith flew in like there was an emergency. She was bursting with excitement which made me miss Angela right behind her.
They were good friends with Rose and lived down the hall. Both being close to six feet tall, they were on the volleyball team. While I didn’t do tons of things with them socially, they were always nice to me.
“What’s going on? You said–CAMMIE!” Faith squealed. She was in a dark blue pajama set with a dog’s face over them. It was her dog, Roger, and her mom had gotten them specially made.
Angela stomped across the room and spun me about. I had to put my hand on my desk to keep from falling. “Oh my God,” she gasped. “You’re wearing Zeb Wilder’s sweatshirt. Please say the sex is good. That everything is proportional.”
I blushed, imagining exactly that. He was big. Really big, and that meant his dick had to be big, too.
“See?” Rose commented with a raised brow.
“God wouldn’t give him a throwing arm like he has and a little dick. That would be cruel,” Angela added.
I held up my hands in surrender. “I’m tutoring him in genetics.”
“I’m a French major, but I know enough about genetics that the two of you will make gorgeous babies.”
I gasped, then laughed. “Angela!”
Rose and Faith nodded their agreement.
“There is nothing going on between me and Zeb Wilder,” I repeated, now for Faith’s and Angela’s benefit.
“Okay, go over everything that happened during your tutor session,” Faith said, flopping down on Rose’s bed. “God, I can think of something I want him to tutor me in.”
I sat on the edge of mine. It had a soft yellow comforter and I ran my fingers over it.
“We met for tutoring in the library. I tutored.”
“And?” Faith asked, eyebrow raised.
“I didn’t even know he was a football player until Rose told me.”
“You studied. Then what?” Angela asked, sitting down next to Faith. Faith slid up the bed to give her room.
“Then he said he’d walk me back to my dorm.”
Rose dropped into her desk chair. “You usually stay late to study.”
“Yeah, he said he’d walk me home then or when I was done.”
All three of their mouths fell open, as if I’d told them I was having an alien’s baby.
“Then?” Rose said, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Then we left because I wasn’t going to make him sit there while I studied.”
“Yeah, like I would have been able to concentrate on anything but him,” Faith said. Angela nodded.
“Then?” Rose prodded. “Jesus, Cam, it’s like trying to pull information from a murder suspect.”
“Then we went outside, it was cold, he gave me his sweatshirt, we walked here, and then he said goodbye.”
Faith frowned. “That’s it?”
I thought about us standing outside the entrance to my building. “He asked if I was going to the game Saturday.”
“And?”
“And I told him I didn’t usually go.”
“What did he say?” Faith asked.
“He said that maybe he’d see me there.”
Angela, Faith, and Rose stared at each other, then squealed, jumped up from their seats, and pulled me in for a hug.
I couldn’t help but laugh and take in some of their enthusiasm.
“Zeb Wilder likes you!” Angela squealed.
“Cammie and Zeb sitting in a tree…” Faith sing-songed.
Rose pulled me away from Angela and Faith who were more excited than two people winning a trip to Paris on a game show.
She looked down at me, gave me a soft smile. “Hun. The guy likes you. You know what that means?”
“What?” I asked, setting my hand on my stomach where butterflies were flitting about.
“We’re going to the football game on Saturday and you’re wearing that sweatshirt.”