King of Campus

By: Jennifer Sucevic



If he’s at all surprised by my unexpected outburst, he doesn’t say one damn word. Instead, his bright blue-green colored eyes continue holding mine, almost as if they’re assessing me with a bit more interest.

My breath continues to come out in short choppy pants. Like I’ve just run a marathon. Still frothing at the mouth, I give him one last frosty glare that will hopefully shrivel his balls before stalking away.

The nerve of some people!

“See you around, coffee girl.”

Even though I can’t help the growl that seethes from my lips, I don’t bother dignifying that last parting shot with a comment. Mr. Abs of Steel can go screw himself for all I care.





Chapter Four




There’s a ton of back-to-school parties happening tonight. Will Roan King be making an appearance at any of them? Stay tuned in to find out! KingOfCampus.com



Sticking my brand new brass key in the lock, I push open the door to our apartment. It’s well after seven and I’ve just come home from my first day of teaching dance at On Pointe. Spending two hours with all those little cuties was just enough balm to soothe away my run in with a certain douchebag jock earlier in the day. It literally kills me that we have a class together and I’m going to have to endure his presence three days a week for the entire semester.

Ugh.

Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.

That’s the plan henceforth.

“Lexie-Lou,” I sing-song loudly from the front hall. God, it feels so good to be home again. My ass is seriously dragging. All I can imagine is taking a long hot shower, curling up in bed, and reading a book or watching a little mindless TV before crashing.

Hmmm. That’s strange. No answer. But I don’t exactly wait for one either. Even thinking about that obnoxious asshole has everything within me prickling with irritation.

I toss my keys in a little ceramic bowl since I am notorious for losing them. Apparently the colorful little dish set right next to the door in our entryway is supposed to cure that little affliction.

We’ll see.

I’m not holding out too much hope.

I repel keys in much the same way I apparently repel nice guys.

One of the first things I did today was get two copies of the apartment key made. My plan is to give one to Dylan since he oh-so-conveniently lives right next door to us. Hopefully his roommates aren’t total creepers that will have me reassessing that decision.

Glancing through the mail stacked neatly besides the key bowl, I yell, “I had the distinguished honor of meeting the campus douchebag today.”

I really could have sworn that when I came through the door, I heard the TV. I just assumed she was in the living room watching it. When I still don’t receive a response, I continue in a louder voice wondering if maybe she’s in her bedroom. “Talk about a total asshole! Roan fucking King! Seriously, that’s his name. I’ve been informed that he’s Barnett’s very own golden boy.”

Except he’s dark as sin and sexy as hell.

Damn it.

Where the heck did that thought come from?

Unwrapping the sweater I had thrown over my black leotard after teaching ballet class, I pad down the hall before stepping into the living room. Just as I do, my feet grind to a halt as three sets of eyes fall on me.

And not one damn set belongs to my roommate either.

How embarrassing.

They’re all male, too.

Figures…

This freaking day has been nothing more than one humiliation after another. I’d seriously give just about anything to be back in Paris right now. Stuffing my mouth with a yummy pastry. Instead I’m suffering through yet another mortifying moment.

The first guy my eyes collide with is Dylan. For some strange reason I notice he’s paused the x-box game he’s in the middle of playing. Which is odd. Because I know enough about guys and video games to realize this is highly unprecedented behavior. The sinking sensation in the pit of my gut continues to grow. Then my gaze slides to-

Oh.

Hell.

No.

What the hell is he doing here?

“What the hell are you doing here?” I practically spit the words at him as my temper instantly ignites. Why is this guy sitting on my couch? In my apartment?

A huge smile slowly moves across his chiseled face before he actually starts to chuckle. “So you’re the roommate from France, huh? Perfect.”

Gnashing my teeth together at his amusement, my narrowed gaze slices back to Dylan. He visibly pales as my eyes land on him again. Which, under different circumstances, I’d actually get a kick out of. He is, after all, a huge hulking guy. I weigh a buck thirty soaking weight. My best guess is that he weighs a solid two forty or so.

Slowly, as if he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, he says, “Umm… I take it you’ve already met, Roan. He’s one of my roommates.” He jerks his head towards the other guy sitting quietly on a big overstuffed armchair. My eyes slide towards him. “And that’s Sam. He also lives with us.”

I give a stiff little nod to Sam who rather smartly doesn’t utter one damn word.

My eyes arrow right back to Dylan before I grit out, “Where’s Lexie?”

“Shower. We’re heading out soon. You coming?” The way he asks this has me suspecting that maybe he’s hoping I’m not.

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