Blood drained from my face and rushed to other parts of my body in a really odd and confusing way. “No. It’s okay. I’m right up the hill. No need at all.”

The grin spread up on the side, revealing that one dimple. “It’s no problem. It’s the least I could do after almost running you over.”

“Thank you, but—”

“Yo! Cam!” Beer Guy jumped off the porch and jogged down the sidewalk, passing me a quick look. “What you up to, man?”

Saved by the frat boy.

Cam’s gaze didn’t veer from me, but his grin started to slip. “Nothing, Kevin, just trying to have a conversation.”

Giving Cam a quick wave, I hurried around Kevin and the front of the trunk. I didn’t look back, but I could feel him watching. Over the years, knowing when someone was staring at you when you weren’t looking had become a talent of mine.

I forced myself not to run to the train station, because running away in front of the same guy twice in one day was beyond the acceptable level of weirdness. Even for me.

I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I was behind the wheel of my car and the engine humming.

Jesus.

I dropped my head against the steering wheel and groaned. A catastrophe waiting to happen? Yeah, sounded about right.

Chapter 3

Sitting through a three hour long sociology class Tuesday night hadn’t been as bad as I thought it would be, but by the time class let out, I was starving. Before I headed back to my apartment, I stopped by the Sheetz—a convenience store/gas station we didn’t have in Texas—and got a MTO. A Made To Order salad, heavy on the fried chicken strips and ranch dressing.

Mmm. Healthy.

The parking lot was packed with cars, some even in the nearby field that butted up to west campus. It hadn’t been like this when I’d left for my evening class and I wondered what was going on. I managed to find a parking spot all the way near the main road and as I turned the ignition, my cell rattled in the cup holder.

I grinned when I saw it was a text from Jacob. We’d exchanged numbers earlier in class since he lived in one of the dorms.

Art sucks was all his text said.

Laughing, I sent him a quick text back about our homework, which was to identify what painting belonged to what era. Thank God for Google, because that was how I was completing the assignment.

Gathering up my bag and food, I climbed out of my car. The air was sticky and I lifted my hair off my neck, wishing I had pulled it up into a ponytail. The scent of autumn was in the air though and I was eager to see cooler weather. Maybe even snow in the winter. I headed across the brightly lit parking lot, toward the center cluster of apartments. I was on the top floor—the fifth—it seemed like a lot of students lived here and most hadn’t really started to arrive until today, but as soon as I stepped up on the sidewalk, I knew where all the cars were coming from.