4. Travis

FOUR

"UGH. WEREN'T WE just here?" Beside me, Gavin groaned as the door of our chauffeured Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van was pulled wide in front of the gates of Astor University. It was the first day back after a far-too-short summer, and none of us were jumping eagerly out to get the new school year started.

West was the first to get to his feet, though that probably had more to do with meeting up with JT, since he didn't ride with the rest of us. "All right," he said. "Move it or lose it."

"Time to terrorize the masses." Our resident grumpy bastard, Daire, lifted Gavin off his lap and stood up. With his all-black outfit, down to the leather jacket he always wore, he was a mass of muscles and tattoos and looked ready to do more than terrorize. With his fists, most likely.

"Calm down, muscle man—there's too many people around to tie someone up." I winked at him, and he scowled…although that was really just his face's default.

Gavin grabbed his boyfriend's hand and dragged Daire out of the Sprinter, leaving the rest of us to trail after. While I wasn't thrilled at another year of sitting through brain-numbing classes, I didn't mind the social aspect that came along with it.

The warm day wasn't exactly conducive to my outfit, a pair of dark bootcut pants and a steampunk military jacket that had my skin glistening already. Looking like a sex god was more important than comfort, though, and I had a reputation to uphold.

All eyes were on our group as we walked through the courtyard and into Astor's main entrance. While several of us thrived on the attention—like me, West, East, and even Donovan—the others would rather stay under the radar.

What a terrible existence that would be.

"Where you off to first?" Donovan said.

I scrolled through the schedule on my phone. "Looks like…Livingston. You?"

"Fucking King. Great." He shoved his cell in his pocket. "Wish me luck."

"At least you've got eye candy. I've got the man who hasn't changed his suit since the seventies."

"Yeah, and if King catches me checking him out, he'll castrate my ass."

"Well, not your ass." I glanced sideways at Donovan and laughed. "Just ogle him when he turns around. The guy fills out those tailored pants like…" I kissed my fingers.

"So not worth the risk." Donovan shook his head. "Catch you after."

As he disappeared into his lecture hall, I headed to mine. It was about half full, and after choosing a seat near the back, I threw my bag into the chair beside me. This was one of the final requisite classes I needed before narrowing down a major, something my stepdad reminded me of every time I saw him. He thought I needed to have direction in my life; I thought he needed a stylist and a few joints to loosen up.

While the seats around me began to fill, I flipped open my sketchbook and picked up where I'd left off on the flared sleeve jacket I was designing. I was trying to decide between pointed shoulder pads or a boxy look, something to accentuate the silhouette. This class was pointless when all I was interested in was making myself, and others, look spectacular.

When Professor Livingston's monotone voice echoed through the hall with the usual introduction every professor on campus made, I prepared myself for a boring hour. Then one of the doors flew open and Caleb stepped inside.

I did a double take, wondering what the hell he was doing and why he looked so out of breath. He scanned the room, and it took me a few seconds too long to realize he was looking for a seat and there wasn't an empty spot anywhere.

But then his eyes landed on me, surprise flickering before he glanced down at my bag in the chair beside me.

No. Fuck no.

"Young man?" Professor Livingston's voice boomed suddenly as his mic was finally turned on. "You need to find a seat. Now."

Caleb swallowed and looked around the room again, like he was searching for anywhere else he could possibly go. He closed his eyes briefly and took in a deep breath. When he opened them again, he moved quickly?—

—to my row.

"Don't say a word," he muttered as he tossed my bag on the ground by my feet and dropped into the seat beside me.

"Rude much?" I slapped my sketchbook shut and leaned down to grab my laptop out from its zipped pouch, flipping it over to check it wasn't dented anywhere.

Caleb sank into his chair and rested his head on his fist, as if that was enough to block me out. We were so close it wouldn't take much to brush my leg against his…

Which would be a phenomenally bad idea.

"So, why you running late?" I glanced at his wind-swept hair and smirked. "Couldn't find your beanie?"

Caleb's eyes narrowed, but that was the only outward sign that he heard me as he did everything in his power not to look my way.

"I figured you'd have a whole collection by now. Saves trying to have any style."

"As opposed to your trying too hard."

"Is that what I'm doing?" I glanced down at today's outfit and the black nails I'd added last night. "Here I thought I was doing the world a favor. You know, by looking this good."

"Do you have an off switch?"

"I do. It's right by the switch to turn me on. You remember where that is, right?"

That got his attention. Caleb whipped his head in my direction, his jaw bunched."Shut. Up."

"Or else what?"

"Excuse me?" Professor Livingston said. "Is there a problem back there?"

I arched a taunting brow, and Caleb looked to the front of the room, shaking his head.

"Good," Livingston said. "In that case you won't mind waiting until after class to finish your conversation."

"Or when hell freezes over," Caleb mumbled as he began to drum his fingers on the table by his laptop. I decided to give him a reprieve as he settled in to listen to Livingston drone on about the semester's syllabus.

I tuned out entirely. I didn't care one way or another about what we'd be learning in here, and it wouldn't have mattered if I did. All I could seem to concentrate on was the tense body beside mine, the way Caleb's arm and shoulder brushed against me whenever he shifted in his seat. A fact he clearly noticed too, because every time his shoulder came into contact with mine, he cursed.

I leaned my head in close to his and said in a whisper, "Could you maybe stop rubbing up on me? It's very distracting."

"Rubbing up— I'm not rubbing up on you. The chairs are too close."

"Yeah, but you're squirming in yours."

"I am not. And did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm trying to get away from you?"

I feigned a pout. "Now why would you want to do that?"

Caleb's eyes trailed over my face as though he were searching for something—don't ask me what. "Maybe because you sprayed half a bottle of cologne on this morning."

"Not half a bottle, no. Just a spray in all the places that get hot enough to make the scent permeate. I'm glad you noticed."

"Pretty hard not to when it's giving me a headache."

"I know a good way to relieve that. Just move your arm so I can reach under the desk."

"Try it and die."

I shrugged and turned back to face the front of the room. "Your loss."

Caleb mumbled something I didn't quite catch, and while I told myself I didn't care what he'd said, that familiar feeling of self-doubt and humiliation tried to creep its way back in, just like it always did around Caleb.

It was annoying that, even after all these years, he still had this power over me. It didn't matter how many people I'd been with, or that I could just look at someone and get them between the sheets—the complete and utter contempt Caleb felt toward me would always trump everything else.

And make me feel fucking worthless.

But I refused to let him see that. Would never let him see that again. I'd let him in, lowered all my defenses, and what had I gotten for it? The cold, hard slap of rejection—something I'd promised myself I would never let anyone make me feel me again, especially Caleb fucking Reeves.

Which explained why I was the way I was with him.

We both knew the truth. Had for years now. But instead of admitting it and taking what was right there in front of us, Caleb had bottled that shit up tight. He'd stuffed the genie back in the bottle and then danced around it with all the harem girls.

Well, all the blonde ones, anyway.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, saving me from the self-destructive path I was heading down. The last thing I needed was to get so caught up in the past that I forgot who was sitting beside me. I couldn't let Caleb see the effect he still had on me. I couldn't allow him that kind of control. All he needed to know was that the night he walked away from me was the night he walked away from the best thing he never had.

I shifted so I could reach for my phone, and when Caleb looked down at my lap, I added an extra thrust for his benefit.

"Why don't you take a picture? I know you have your camera."

"Yeah, I'll pass."

I smirked and drew my phone out of my pocket. "I remember a time when you begged to take my picture."

"Begged?" Caleb snorted. "That's not how I remember it."

"No?" I leaned in until our shoulders touched. "I guess you tell everyone there's something captivating about their face."

Caleb shook his head. "I'm a photographer. I'm always looking for interesting angles and shapes, and your face is?—"

"Captivating." I angled the face under discussion in his direction and Caleb's eyes narrowed. "Your words, not mine."

Caleb shoved me off his shoulder and back to my seat."That was a long time ago."

"Not that long."

"Long enough. I don't know why you always have to bring it up."

Neither did I. One minute I was telling myself to avoid any trips down memory lane, then I looked at him and found myself right back where we started.

Fuck.

I opened my phone and saw several texts from the guys about their first classes, and then spotted a couple from the hot body I'd been dancing with at the party the other night.

There, that was what I needed to distract me. The possibility of a hookup. After the party I'd received several…enticing pictures from Kirby, and I knew he would've gone home with me that night if I'd invited him.

But after my impromptu cheers and the following argument with the infuriating man beside me, the best I'd been able to promise my dance partner was a call at a later date.

KIRBY:

Will be at Church later tonight. Think I might need to ask for some forgiveness. Do you feel like meeting me for confession?

I chuckled. Kirby wasn't heading to an actual church but an exclusive club where the last thing done in the confessional booths was asking for forgiveness.

"Latest conquest?" Caleb's eyes were on my screen.

"Why? Jealous?"

"No. Just wondering why he's texting, since you're more the one-and-done type."

For someone who loathed me as much as Caleb did, he sure seemed interested in where I put my dick. "Because I haven't done him yet, and he's definitely my type."

"But then bye-bye?"

I searched for the underlying sarcasm that was usually behind Caleb's words. But it wasn't there this time—he seemed genuinely curious. Why?

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing. I just wonder how you keep them all straight in your head."

I pulled up the photo Kirby had sent me that night and held it out to Caleb."Trust me, there's nothing straight about him, and like you pointed out, I don't want to keep him, just fuck him."

"Why do you?—"

"One final piece of information before we get started here today." Professor Livingston's voice cut off whatever verbal slap-back Caleb had been about to deliver. "I hope you like your seats, because that's where you'll be sitting all semester."

Friends that had taken spots beside one another rejoiced, and I turned to see Caleb's jaw practically in his lap.

One lecture had been bad enough, but now we were stuck sitting beside each other for the next sixteen weeks?

Great. This was just fucking great.