22. Emily

22

EMILY

C ohen Michaels was… well, the guy was fucking arrogant. Full of himself. Cocky with a capital COCK swinging between his legs. He was also good looking enough to get away with it. The cherry on top… was the way he kissed me. Both hard and soft. Pulling me in while simultaneously pushing me away. At ease. Like he didn't have a care in the world. But so tightly wound I was afraid he might snap.

That was the intoxicating thing about him. How many different versions of this man were tied up in one. And I admit I was too na?ve to see the danger right in front of me. In a navy-blue button up, loose around the collar and tight around the chest, and a perfectly pressed pair of khaki dress pants.

I wanted to hate him. I should have hated him. Hell, I would later come to hate him.But by the time he stepped back, his lips kicked up at one side, I was breathless. A little dazed and a lot turned on. I knew it wouldn't take much more than me asking him to come inside with me. That at the very least I'd get a good night outta this one night. But something about his thinking I was easy didn't sit right with me. Even if it meant I'd never see him again.

Thing was, I knew that was impossible. I saw him every time he walked into a room. He just wasn't likely to see much of me. And I wanted it that way. More like I'd come to accept there was no other choice.

"Good night, Cohen." I glanced up at him through my lashes while doing my best not to actually look at him.

He reached out a hand and brushed my hair behind my ear, the brief contact enough to send a shiver down my spine and curl the toes in my shoes. "Good night, Emily." Then he dropped his arm and turned on his heel before calling out over one shoulder, "See you tomorrow, babe."

Tomorrow? Tomorrow when ? That was what I'd wanted to ask; instead, I slipped through the door and watched him walk away until his car was nothing more than a dot on the road.

The repeated beeping of my alarm clock startled me awake, the sunlight streaming in through the curtains of my dorm room window. I didn't remember leaving it open. But the truth was I didn't remember much after being dropped off last night. Almost like that kiss had rendered me stupid.

In a way, it had. I was a little dazed, cock-drunk, attracted to a man whose ego barely fit in the room with the rest of him. Then again, wasn't that what college was for? Being young, dumb… making mistakes and doing your best to forget them?

That's what I was telling myself anyway. When I threw on a pleated black skirt, an oversized off-the-shoulder sweater, and my usual worn-out white sneakers. Before glancing at my reflection in the mirror. I wouldn't call the girl staring back at me… hot . But she wasn't ugly either. Cute was a more accurate description. Wavy brown hair that fell almost to my waist when I left it down, pale gray eyes that never even hinted at blue. A pert nose and pink cheeks.

Like I said, cute but never anyone who really turned heads or made any sort of entrance into a room. So it wasn't hard to figure out what guys like Cohen Michaels wanted. I was another notch on his bedpost. A girl he assumed was a sure thing, only for him to realize I was far more stubborn than I looked.

It was probably the cheeks, which gave me a heart-shaped face and made my twenty appear more like sixteen.And young meant easy. To fool. Manipulate. Coax into bed and never see again.

I'd been staring at myself so long in the mirror I'd lost track of time. Until my emergency second alarm started going off and sent me rushing out the door.

Ten minutes later, I was settling into the seat of my first lecture hall with a notepad and pen in front of me. I flipped my textbook open and watched a shadow darken the page. I didn't have to look up to know who that shadow belonged to. I could sense his presence the moment he walked through the door, though I told myself I was crazy at the time. And I could smell the distinct scent of his cologne and feel the way his glare seared through the side of my face before he ever spoke a word.

"Good Morning, Emily."

"Morning, Cohen."

He dropped his bag at his feet, then lowered himself down in the seat next to me. "You didn't eat breakfast."

It was another one of those questions that was really a statement and not a question at all.

"I didn't have time." I glanced in his direction without meaning to. I couldn't help myself. The guy was nice to look at.

He slid a paper bag in front of me before nudging a coffee cup over along with it. "One cream, one sugar."

My eyes bounced from the cup, which smelled as good as I'm sure it tasted, to Cohen. Then back again.

"How did you know…?" I asked, taking a small sip before peering into the bag. A chocolate muffin. My favorite. Even if I didn't get to have them often. And not because I was watching my figure. Fresh pastries just weren't a necessary expense when every penny went towards my housing and textbooks.

"Lucky guess." Cohen shrugged. But I could sense his focus on me again. I was pretty sure he was getting off on… watching me eat? Maybe the guy had a food fetish?

Not that it mattered. I'd eat a dozen chocolate muffins if it meant someone else was fronting the bill. It sure as hell beat selling used underwear on eBay…

I was kidding, of course. It hadn't come to that just yet. Though I had to admit that I'd thought about it more than once.