She tucked her hair behind her ear again, sending those stars spinning. “Why does it matter? You’ve already given me a nickname, probably so you don’t have to worry about remembering mine until you get bored and try to get into someone else’s pants. Maybe we could skip to that part.”

This girl had walls for days. Defensive and prickly weren’t usually my thing, but this time was different—she was different. Smart, funny, built with brash confidence and utter disregard for my fame. Something I’d never wanted before now.

I grinned. “No one else’s pants could possibly be as interesting as yours, Em.”

She struggled, I could see it in the way she sucked on her cheeks, but she couldn’t resist asking. Her eyes slid toward me. “What does Em stand for?”

“Mystery girl.”

Her responding sniff wasn’t convincing. She focused on the professor, and I studied her body language. The stiff shoulders relaxed a degree, and her hands stopped tapping out a rhythm on her ugly sweats. Most telling, a tiny smile ghosted over her lips. She liked the nickname—and I couldn’t wait to dig through those walls.

2

DERRICK

I spent the next forty minutes trying desperately to ignore every tiny move she made. She reached for a pen, and her arm brushed mine, instant goosebumps. She flicked her hair behind her shoulder, and her vanilla ice cream scent hit me, making my mouth water.

The professor could have been speaking in Latin for all I’d heard. With only a few minutes left in the class, my chance to find out more about her was slipping away. Luckily, the professor had my back on this one. He frowned as he searched through his stack of papers, then sighed and addressed the class.

“I have to run back to my office to grab the last set of sheets. Please try not to vandalize anything while I’m gone.”

The gods were smiling down on me. With a warning look at us, he said he’d be right back and left the room. I didn’t waste my chance.

Em stared studiously down at the papers we’d already been handed, but the charged air between us made me think she was just as aware of me as I was of her. At least, I hoped so. I bent toward her and lowered my voice.

“Sure you don’t want to tell me your name?” Not the most original line, but all my blood had been pooling in my lap for the last hour. I didn’t exactly have poetry ready.

“Nope.” The papers rustled as she rearranged them.

“Those are going to say the same thing on the third read-through.”

“Yeah, but this way I’ll remember them. You haven’t even looked at yours yet.”