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  Like that made it better. Hot, thoughtful, and sober, this guy was seriously too good to be true. Except for the being-seven-years-younger-than-me part.

  He squinted. “Twenty-two, three months and four days. I’m a Libra, the scales. I guess that makes sense.”

  “You’re telling me an awful lot about yourself considering we met yesterday.”

  Students starting filling in the seats around us, but it was like we were alone in the lecture hall. Maybe that was the real reason I couldn’t get Carter out of my mind—when I was with him it was like I didn’t have to pretend, which, considering my whole life now was fake, made absolutely no sense.

  “You told me you lost your parents before I even knew your name. I kind of figured I was safe telling you my zodiac sign.”

  He remembered my lie. Not like it was an easy thing to forget. I guess now it needed to be my truth.

  Crap, I needed to call my mother. Tell her I’d gotten to Senegal with the Peace Corps in one piece and that the dam we were building for the villagers was going super-duper.

  Forget it—way too much lying. I’d email her.

  “I don’t drink either,” I said. It was my mantra now, but a few weeks ago my mantra was just that word, drink, drink, drink. Even this morning it was hard to deny the gnawing need I knew I would have for a glass of wine. Only one, after what I assumed would be the longest day of my life.

  “You’re not pre-law because your parents died in a horrible accident and you want justice, right?” he asked.

  “I’m a college freshman,” I said, hiding a smile, “not Batman.”

  He shrugged, “I’m doing it for justice.” He reached into his bag, took out his laptop and clicked it on.

  I guess he wasn’t just some cute guy who asked me to call him Chazz, or even just my RA; he was someone with loftier goals than mine. He wanted justice for someone, for something. I wanted a career where I didn’t have to keep getting people coffee and giving the guy I’d been screwing more than coffee on his coffee breaks.

  There was more, though. My lack of a college degree had given me one and only one future—office bitch. There was no escape. You could move up, down, and sideways but you could never get out.

  No matter where I worked, there was only so high I could ever go.

  Especially when the guy I had been sleeping with for the last year was also my boss and hated answering his own phone almost as much as he liked my blow jobs.

  Sure, I could have gone to community college, or night school, but I wanted what I’d run away from at eighteen. The real college experience, minus the booze. I appreciated the irony.

  Carter put his book on his desk. The cover was shiny, the spine straight, as if it was right off the shelf.

  “I’ve already done this week’s reading,” I said, like I was trying to prove something.

  “Me too,” he said, “three years ago.”

  “But you bought a new book?”

  “New class, new book,” he shrugged.

  My itchy sweater and cat ears hat clearly illustrated I shared his beliefs.

  Our professor walked down the aisle to the front of the lecture hall. I took in broad shoulders, the perfect amount of beard to make it sexy instead of scruffy, and cavernous brown eyes.

  What was with this place and all the hot guys?

  As someone who watched Grey’s Anatomy religiously when it was still cool, I couldn’t deny that my Civics professor and, I noted, glancing at my schedule, Faculty Advisor, was a dead ringer for Dr. McSteamy.

  My chin seemingly fell into my lap.

  “All the girls do that,” Carter whispered with a tilt to his head.

  At least I’d kept my panting internal. I closed my mouth quickly.

  I glanced at my schedule again and followed the asterisk next to Faculty Advisor at the bottom of the page. Faculty Advisors are available during office hours to their freshman advisees for any questions or concerns they might have.

  I definitely had some questions and concerns.

  He reached the front of the hall and stood behind the podium. “I am Professor Greyson Parker. You can call me Dr. Parker. If you get an A in this class, you can call me Greyson.”

  Are you kidding, his name was Greyson?

  “No doubt you are here because you want to attend law school,” he continued, “and in my class and discussion sections I will do my best to prepare you, but you may also discover the work load makes you want to choose another profession.”

  I stared at my laptop, my neck and chest as uncontrollably hot as a forest fire.

  Perfect. So far I had one guy I couldn’t touch and one who would never touch me who I also couldn’t touch.

  “You may also consider pairing up to study,” Professor Parker said. “Being a lawyer is not a solitary endeavor, but a team sport. You might as well get used to working well with others now.”

  “What do you think?” Carter whispered. “It would be convenient being on the same floor.”

  “No thanks,” I whispered back. Even though, having worked at a law firm, I knew Professor Parker was right. But Carter and I already had enough connecting us. It was hard enough to keep him out of my head. I didn’t need to “work well” with him, too.

  “I’m smarter than I look,” he said.

  “You failed this class.” Better for him to believe that was why I was saying no.

  He sat back in his chair. “I study at the library every night at seven if you change your mind.”

  I didn’t respond. He was the kind of guy I would have “studied” very closely in my college-take-one days. That could not happen now.

  As Professor Parker reviewed the syllabus I realized he reminded me a lot of David. He had the same I can kick your ass in and out of the courtroom confidence, the same solidity to his frame that only being handsome and intelligent can bring.

  As much as I hated to admit it, I kind of missed David, the arrogant asshole.

  We had never been in love, but we had most definitely been in lust. His body taut and muscular from bi-weekly squash matches, his perfectly pressed suits, his blue eyes reminding me of vast desert skies.

  When class was over, I rushed down quickly to introduce myself to Professor Parker. I was doing things right this time and maybe I was also trying to avoid walking to my next class with Carter.

  “Professor Parker,” I said, trying to slouch. Having good, poised posture wasn’t something I learned until my mid-twenties. It was still something I had to force myself to remember sometimes.

  “Questions already?” he asked, turning to me.

  “No, I wanted to introduce myself,” I said, with a small wave, “I’m one Kate Townsend. You’re my faculty advisor.”

  It wasn’t something the average freshman would probably do, but I wasn’t the average freshman anymore. This time around I was going to be the model student. I was not going to slink out as soon as class ended because I was hung over, or leave because I was rushing to do what you did before you got hung over.

  “Oh,” he said, “how forthright of you. I rarely even meet my advisees.”

  “I plan on attending your office hours.”

  “Good for you. You may actually get to call me Greyson,” he said with a smile that almost made me fall backward. It wasn’t intentional. He was that good-looking.

  “I don’t drink,” I blurted out, needing to remind myself of rule number one so I didn’t break rule number two. Why was I even thinking about breaking rule number two?

  Because I wasn’t really nineteen.

  Because it had been over a month since anyone had touched me.

  I should have had sex with David one last time before I left New York, though I was pretty sure he would have said no. He probably would have said hell no. He might have missed me too, but there was no doubt he thought I was a hot mess.

  When you’re used to having sex on a regular basis and then it’s gone, I guess this is what happens. Or maybe that was just me?

  O
r maybe my problems with alcohol actually had covered up other addictions.

  “Good to know,” Professor Parker said, confusion permeating his face.

  I winced. I was such a jerk. I might not have been able to control my thoughts about him, but he clearly wasn’t having the same problem when it came to me. To him I was just any other freshman.

  I forced myself to walk toward the door. Anything so I wouldn’t have to think about how twenty-nine-year old Kate would not only want to call him Greyson, but would want to repeat it like a heartbeat—after she drank six hella-huge glasses of Riesling, of course.

  Chapter Six

  Kate

  After I emailed my mother that I was alive and safe in Senegal and there would be very little correspondence going forward, I headed to the student center to grab some lunch before my next class.

  I heard the words she’d said to me when I told her about my decision to enter the Peace Corps.

  Your biological clock does not stop ticking on the other side of the world.

  Considering my life was in the crapper, I guess at least she hoped for a grandchild she could be proud of.

  It was amazing the lengths I was willing to go not to tell my mother she’d been right about me. Admit that what she said when I flunked out of college the first time had finally come true.

  You will regret your failure.

  If standing in the student center of Hudson University, reaching for a cheese sandwich and trying my hardest to be any other lost freshman wasn’t enough proof.

  I stepped away from the sandwich station. I needed a glass of…water. Yeah, water. Between Carter and Dr. Parker, I had my proverbial hands full and I hadn’t even made it through day one yet.

  I guess I’d forgotten how much sexual energy existed on a college campus. It bubbled under everything like a shaken beer waiting to blow. Maybe I should have made “no guys” rule number twelve because then at least I wouldn’t have to feel so bad about breaking it.

  It seemed fairly inevitable I was going to.

  Mentally it was already pinned to the mat. I shook the image of Professor Parker emerging from a hot tub and Carter walking down our dorm hallway freshly showered on GIF repeat from my head. I needed to stay strong.

  I glanced around the table area for somewhere quiet to sit. Somewhere I wouldn’t have another man or guy who was, in every way that counted, a man fighting to get into my GIF loop. Yet another person I had to keep myself from trying not to picture with his shirt off.

  Who was I kidding—with his pants off.

  Luckily, Dawn was sitting at a table alone sketching into a black leather notebook. I could have sat alone too, but sitting with Dawn was safer. Her Halloween wardrobe and bitchy attitude would scare even the most eager boy, man, or man-boy away.

  It wasn’t like I was super-hot shit or anything, but every encounter in college had the tinge of an invitation to it. At least with Dawn around I wouldn’t have to keep avoiding RSVP-ing.

  I headed to her table and pulled out a chair.

  “Don’t you have somewhere better to sit?” she asked, focused on her sketch—a very accurately rendered rotting skull, complete with moldy brains and goo dripping eye sockets.

  Blond roots shone out from her tar-black hair in the overhead lights. She colored her hair. She was playing a role just like me. Not that her custom fit vampire fangs didn’t indicate a flair toward the dramatic.

  “Is there anyone better who’s going to sit with you?” I replied. I was starting to understand dealing with Dawn was about meeting her on her level. I could handle that. I mean I had eleven years on her. I had more sarcasm and angst in my pinky nail than she had in her whole black heart.

  “I don’t want anyone to sit with me.”

  “Then you should have drawn a KEEP OUT sign.” I dove into the chair across from her amid the hum of students talking around me. “Instead of your self-portrait,” I added.

  “It’s supposed to be you,” she retorted.

  We sat in silence, her sketching, the sound like the scratch of a rodent, me chewing on my sandwich, a moist insistent chomp.

  “How was your first day?” I asked, regretting it immediately. This was not on her level. I should have kept my mouth shut and eaten my sandwich, or maybe hurled more insults at her so she could toss similar ones back, but what the hell? We were roommates. We had three more months together. We could spend them in contemptuous silence or we could try and make the best of it.

  “It’s not my first day,” she said, her mouth puckered.

  “Right,” I said, pulling the crust off my sandwich. She had already been here for a semester.

  She went back to her sketch. She didn’t bother asking me how my first day was, it was abundantly clear she couldn’t care less.

  If she had asked I would have said fine. Even though with each passing minute, I wondered if starting my life over to make up for my mistakes might have been my biggest one yet.

  So far all college-take-two had given me were a massive case of lady blue balls and more guilt than I knew what to do with.

  “Why the hell are you starting second semester anyway?” Dawn asked, watching me closely. It was only then I noticed she wore colored contacts, the darkest brown.

  Wow, what was she hiding from?

  Dawn was the only person here who had given me even a second glance. It made me wonder if she suspected something, or maybe she’d forgotten what someone without a shitload of white pancake makeup and black lipstick looked like.

  I’d already told her I took a year off, but that didn’t answer why I was starting second semester. There would definitely be more people than Dawn who would view it as questionable. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with it now.

  “What happened to your last roommate?” I asked instead.

  “She thought I worshipped the devil.” The sound of her shading increased like the pencil and paper were about to come to climax.

  “Was that why she moved out?”

  “No,” Dawn replied curtly, “she was a stupid whore who liked beer and dick more than school.” Her eyes rolled. “She dropped out.”

  I nodded, trying to ignore my stomach falling to my toes. In college-take-one I had been her ex-roommate almost to the letter. Who was I kidding? It would still be me now without my rules.

  I took a sip from my water, a small bite from my sandwich. “Do you worship the devil?”

  She shook her head, “Not yet, but I’ve heard junior year is pretty hard. I might need his help then.”

  I laughed heavily, loudly; people at other tables turned.

  Dawn squinted, practically cracking her eyes in half. Clearly, she didn’t like making people laugh. I was curious about what she did like, besides freaking me the fuck out.

  The thing was, having her as a roommate might be the only thing that kept me safe. She didn’t want to talk to me, hang out with me, bother me, or be friends with me.

  She would not deal with me bringing a guy back to our room, especially a professor. Though I was pretty sure they didn’t come back to dorms with students anyway, and I was absolutely positive Professor Parker wasn’t that kind of professor. As long as I stayed in our room any time I wasn’t in class, I would have to follow rule number two.

  Hot guy GIFs on repeat, or not, Dawn would literally be my gothic chastity belt with fangs.

  Chapter Seven

  Carter

  Walking to my next class, I thought about how I would have answered Kate’s question about what had happened my freshman year if I could have told her the truth.

  Back then, I was exactly like most of the students I was an RA for, a completely spoiled, snot-nosed brat. I was invincible and I lived that way. How else would an eighteen-year-old who’d had everything paid and taken care of for his whole life act?

  Nothing could touch me.

  Growing up rich makes everything easy. Whatever you want is just in your reach and if not, you can buy it. Or your father can, and my father did. I never com
plained about his money, until he used it to pay for Jeanie’s silence.

  I would probably be a totally different person now if I hadn’t rushed TKE, if I’d gone to a different school, or even been born to different parents. If my father wasn’t, as Tristan had put it so eloquently, a “prize-winning dick hole.”

  Tristan was lucky, as a diver he basically had his own frat in the diving team. He didn’t need to try to find a group of people who would accept him. Freshman year, while I was pledging, he would watch me from his bed, his hands propped behind his head as I ran around doing everything my older frat brothers told me to do.

  “You look like a chicken with its balls cut off,” he said.

  “Wouldn’t that be a very sexually frustrated rooster?” I joked, even though it was exactly how I felt.

  I guess it was the price I was willing to pay to belong to something. Like Tristan, I craved a tribe. The guys in TKE seemed as good as any. They were wealthy like me, with fathers who were pushing them to be something someday so they could push their kids to be something someday. It was a welcome place to hide and drink and play video games until that someday, until I made my own son’s life a living hell.

  “You could always be my towel boy,” Tristan said, wiggling his brows.

  “That will be great for my future, a towel-tote for the Hudson University diving star.”

  “Gay diving star,” he corrected. his eyes sparkling. “The big law firms eat that shit up.”

  I personally didn’t care that Tristan was gay. He did, though. Back then he mentioned it hourly. I guessed it was because he finally could.

  I should have taken his invite, or accepted any of the other invitations I’d gotten from frats who’d asked me to pledge. But, my father had been a TKE man, so that was what I had to be.

  I’d hitched my wagon to a falling star.

  The night I started wearing the D-Bag scarlet letter had been like any other party as a pledge. The TKE house was filled with guys and girls, with music, with the welcome dangerous energy only freedom and breaking the rules can create. Truthfully, I could have been wearing it for weeks beforehand.