"I'm pretty sure flashing your boobs at the hottest guy in a ten-mile radius isn't the best way to meet new friends on move-in day.
"Shit!" I pull my tube top up, quick as a flicker, but it doesn't matter, "the girls" have already made their startling debut right here in Founder's Square in front of a demigod who's witnessed the first of many embarrassing episodes I'm sure to have at Whitney Briggs. "I swear I don't know how that happened." I pluck and adjust, while struggling to hold onto the oversized duffle bag I've filled with all of my dad's favorite books. When he died I sort of adopted them, and, now, I'm dragging them around like a body. It was the one bag I didn't check and thankfully so since the airline sent the rest of my things to Kansas. "It's like a ghost just pulled it down. Stupid top."
"I don't think it's stupid." He gives a lopsided grin, and my insides squeeze tight. He's gorgeous, and built, and way the hell out of my league. "I think it's friendly." He dips his gaze to my cleavage again as if waiting for a reprisal.
"It's not friendly, and neither am I." I take a step to the left, and he's quick to block my path. "Look, sorry about the peep show. My clothes usually don't make a habit of falling off in front of people." His copper hair glows in the dappled sunlight. It looks glossy and slick, and it's all I can do to keep my fingers from running through it.
"Don't feel too bad—clothes everywhere have a habit of falling off in my presence. Especially the undergarment variety." He gives a cocky grin. "In fact, I double dog dare you to do it again."
Perfect. He's tanned, ripped, and evidently ready to dip his wick.
"I'm leaving now." I ditch around him and step into the swell of humanity. Girls in every level of undress scream and hug as if summer had somehow lasted a thousand years. Dozens of skateboards jet by, quick and lethal as bullets, as I struggle my way through the main thoroughfare. If I wasn't lugging around all my father's books, which have decidedly morphed into bricks, I might have actually enjoyed my first stroll through campus. I had seen snippets of it in the glossy brochures, but I've basically shown up at Whitney Briggs sight unseen. The first thing I noticed when the airport shuttle dropped me off is the fact the air is thinner in the mountains of North Carolina, much more than it ever was in Arizona. Back home you could take a bite out of the heat, and here it feels like I'm filling my lungs with something just this side of helium.
A pair of bicycles zoom at me in either direction, and I squeeze my eyes shut in a passive effort to avoid the near collision. They whisk by, and I force my lids to open once again. I could use a serious nap right about now and maybe a defibrillator if I ever manage to trek across this overgrown scholastic terrain. Swear to God, this campus is uphill both ways. Whoever thought it was a good idea to plop a school on the side of a mountain must have been part billy goat.
"You need a hand?" It's the tanned, ripped, dip-wick willing and able with his half-cocked smile, and I'm sure he's got a half-cock in his pants to match. Just as I'm about to protest the idea, he swipes the duffle bag from me without the proper invite, not that my tired muscles are willing to fight him. "Which way you headed?"
"No really, it's okay." I try to snatch it back, and he swings it just out of reach. His muscles redefine themselves, and a series of lightly sketched tattoos track up over his biceps.
"I promise I won't say a word to your dorm sisters about 'nipplegate.'"
I suck in a quick breath.
"Nipplegate?" Crap. I'm not on campus five minutes, and already I've caused a quasi-political scandal of mammary proportions, not that my boobs are anything news worthy. "I'm in Prescott Hall." I sag into the idea of him schlepping my things. I bet he's secretly going to call me nipples each time he sees me. In fact, I'm sure he'll share this juicy tidbit with his lowlife friends, and I'll have to endure four long years listening to things like nips, the nippler, nipapolis, the rack, gah—the nom rack!
Just shit.
I scan the area for signs of my brother, but he's nowhere to be found. He's the reason I'm at Whitney Briggs to begin with. I miss him. He's been out of the house for three long years, and I'm dying to be near him again. Emmett is my favorite person in the world, no offense to Mom who is also pretty great. But after Dad died, Emmett really became so much more than a big brother. Once he left, I lived for his weekly phone calls, and now that I'll get to spend time with him every day, the idea brings tears to my eyes. He's that sweet.
"Prescott it is." The handsome duffle bag wielding demon leads us to an overgrown building that to my surprise is in close proximity and doesn't require mountain climbing gear to get to. On the lower level there's a packed café with a giant sign in the window that reads Hallowed Grounds. The smell of fresh brewed coffee transforms the vicinity into a nirvana-like heaven. He gives a sly smile as he walks alongside me, and a fire rips through my bones.
A breath gets caught in my throat at the sight of his emerald eyes—stunning is the only word I can think to accurately describe them. He's watching me, heating my skin with his stare, and my cheeks catch fire being this lethally close to him. I move my gaze lower and note his bulging biceps with the beginnings of a tattoo peering out from under the sleeve of his T-shirt. Whoever this is, he's spent some serious time at the gym, or prison—or maybe the gym in prison.
"So you're a freshman?" He opens the door to the building with his back and nods me in first.
"What gave it away? My 'How to Survive Your First Year at University' handbook for dummies or my perky peach nipples?" I smart as we step into the waiting elevator. I punch in the third floor, and we start to float.
"Neither, but the perky peach nipples were a nice surprise. You really know how to brighten a guy's day." His teeth illuminate like a row of stars, and I blush a deeper shade of crimson.
His smile fades as he takes me in. There's a sadness hiding there beneath those stunning green eyes, and I can't pinpoint where it might be coming from.
"You've just got that freshman look about you." His voice gravels it out low, like a secret. "You look sweet—yet to be tainted by the masses. Most of the girls around here eat frat boys for breakfast. You don't strike me as the man-eater type. You've got 'good girl' written all over you." He says it with a leer as if he's ready and willing to revoke my good girl visa. And the way my thighs are quivering, I'm not sure I'd mind."
God, he sounds just like Emmett. If I hear what a "good girl" I'm supposed to be one more time, I'm going to hurl all over his shiny new tennis shoes. As much as I love my brother, I'm tired of him reminding me of what a little angel I am. Honestly, sometimes it feels as if Emmett wants to keep me a little girl forever.
"Yeah, well, being a good girl is highly overrated." I should know. Much to Emmett's approval, I am one.
We step out, and I follow the number on the doors all the way down the hall. Most of the doors are opened, exposing the fact girls are busy decorating their miniaturized abodes with wall decals and superfluous purchases from Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Music blares from a room to our right and a tall redhead stomps out and tapes a poster of a fuzzy white kitten over her door that reads, A, B, C, D, E, then below the fuzzy cute kitty, F.U.
"Nice," I say, glancing over at the demigod of moving day. "Looks like I'm not the only friendly one around here."
"That's Victoria." He leans in as he says it, and his warm cologne washes over me like a private heat wave. He smells good, clean like warm spices mixed with soap. His green eyes sear into mine, and an earthquake rolls through my body. "She's pretty nice on days that don't end in Y."
"Again, just like me." My throat runs dry, and it takes all of my effort to break our gaze. I step up to room 315 and pause. "Here I am." I pump my shoulders excited to be anywhere I might actually belong. After Dad died, Mom uprooted us to Arizona where I always felt a little out of place. But this is college—my dorm. I'm going to finally fit in. And I'll have a roommate. What could be better than that? I bet we'll be friends for life, closer than sisters. I've always secretly wanted a sister, not that I'd trade Emmett for one. He's pretty amazing as far as big brothers go. But I'm desperately in need of a little estrogen in my life, someone to dish about boys at all hours of the night over a carton of Cherry "breakup" Garcia. Someone to peruse the Victoria's Secret catalog with while debating boy-shorts or thongs, someone who can really appreciate Green Goddess dressing for what it truly is—culinary perfection.
I unlock the door and swing it wide open for my duffle-bag-wielding friend, but Conan the Chivalrous demands I enter first. The room itself is smaller than a hiccup with twin beds on either side and not much else. A bare wall greets me on one side and on the other—
The comforter is moving, slow and lethargic, like there's a giant anaconda buried deep beneath it.
Oh God, my insides cinch with fear. I hate to break it to my new dorm sister, but I don't do snakes, or rats, or even some of those little beady-eyed purse puppies that have a propensity to growl at people. Then a tangle of limbs pop out from beneath the sheets. A heavy demonic moan escapes the tiny bed as a waterfall of blonde hair floats to the floor.
Oh God, she's going to be sick.
Just as I'm about to kick over the trashcan, a bare hairy ass hikes into the air, and her equally hairy legs bend in flexion. Oh wow, she's got some serious follicular issues, but I totally won't hold it against her. In fact, it makes me like her more. I bet the poor thing never wears a bikini. I had a friend in high school who actually had the misfortune of growing hair on her chest. She was well on her way to morphing into a baboon before junior year. It's just one of those freak things that nature unleashes on poor unsuspecting testosterone-riddled girls, and there's not a whole lot you can do about it other than wax yourself silly, and God knows that's a little piece of hell right there.
I take a step forward just as the comforter flops off the bed.
Gah! There's two of them! And one of them is a boy!
I watch in horror as the hairy ass bumps and grinds while beneath him a svelte blonde lets out a satisfying "Oh yes! Oh yes, yes, yes!"
"Oh no. Oh no, no, no." My hand flies to my lips, my feet still rooted to the floor.
The hairy ass picks up his pace, and the girl's boobs flops back and forth as if they were waving hello.
"Oh my, God." I push my face in the dip-wick's rock hard chest and lose myself momentarily rubbing my cheek against him. Good God, he's skin over steel.
"Whoa," he says, lowering the duffle bag to the floor. "Maybe we should just get going for now." He presses his hand in the small of my back, and my spine electrifies as he ushers me into the hall. He closes the door behind him as his laughing eyes magnetize to mine. "Welcome to your first day of school, princess." He gives a crooked grin, and this time it makes me feel oddly safe like he's just rescued me from some sexual dungeon of perversion. "Edward Cullen." He holds out a hand, strong and thick, and a part of me wants to bite down over his fingers then extricate them from my mouth in a sexual manner rather than shake them.
"Bella." It rasps from me just barely audible.
His fingers clasp over mine, his eyes seal themselves over my features, pulling me in as if rescuing me from the deepest end of the ocean.
"Bella." He gives a brief nod, and that veiled sadness returns to his eyes. "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He leans in. A look of seduction sweeps over him. "Why don't I get you out of here."
I give a coy smile up at his red haired eminence. "I double dog dare you."
The temperature outside feels as if it's just dropped twenty degrees. Of course, it might have something to do with the fact I was sweating all the way down in the elevator while visions of my dorm room being defiled swirled in my head. Talk about your first day trauma and drama. As if the fact my boobs insisted on taking a look around campus wasn't bad enough—although technically my new roommate showed me up in the boob drama department. She was large and in charge, and, holy shit, those things were spinning out of control like hands on some demonic clock.
Right about now I'm starting to lose any sisterly connection I was feeling toward my new roommate. Her inability to blush while busting a move has quickly relegated her to more of a distant slutty cousin who I'm not opposed to removing.
I take in a lungful of air trying to cleanse my mind from the sight, but that hairy ass haunts me behind my lids, and, now, it'll forever be locked in my subconscious, taunting me as it bounces into the air. Crap. I can never un-see that.
A tall row of pines campaign for my attention. I choose to ignore the fact I just threw up a little in the back of my mouth and force myself to take in the scenery. The evergreens spear out like skyscrapers all along the outline of campus, and their sweet perfume infiltrates my senses.
"You want to grab some coffee?" Edward cinches a smile and moves in close as we traverse an entire minefield of bicycles. My father loved to ride. He died that way, too. I try not to think about it, but, with my mind buzzing a million miles an hour, nothing seems off limits today.
"Coffee?" I pause to gaze up at Edward's eyes, the exact shade of the pines and my toes curl at the sight of him. A brief vision of him raking his naked body over mine, moaning in my ear with passion, blinks through my mind, grey and fuzzy like a bad cable connection. He's so stunningly gorgeous, and, for the most part, gorgeous guys don't have too much to do with me. I'm guessing my boobs cast some sort of nipple spell on him, and now he thinks a homerun is in the works by midnight. For all I know he's got some boob fetish he's looking to satisfy. "I'd better not. I need to find my brother. I've texted him like six times since I got here, and he's pretty much ignored me which isn't like him." I'm more than a little worried, but I'm guessing he dropped his phone in the toilet or left it at home and went for a hike.
I spin in a slow circle trying to orient myself. The tall Gothic-style buildings give this place that Hogwarts' vibe I've always secretly craved, and the pepper trees, the weeping willows, the overgrown maples only lend to the magic. "I think I'll head over to the Briggs Apartment building. That's where he's staying. His name is Emmett Swan, have you heard of him?"
His head ticks back a notch. "Emmett?" A tiny smile tugs at his lips. They look full and soft, and I bet kissing them would feel like falling into a bed of clouds—erotic, cocky clouds—nevertheless, he's still way out of my league. "Everyone knows Emmett. I'm headed that way." He lands his hand over my shoulder, and my skin sizzles. "I'll take you right to him."
"Really? Thank you!" Everyone knows Emmett, huh? I'm not sure why my brother's popularity surprises me. Emmett is the nicest, most noble, decent guy on the planet. And now I'm suddenly thrilled to have bumped into Mr. Muscles here because he's going to take me right to him. "You know, you're proving yourself to be more than a pair of perfect biceps," I tease.
He gives a wry smile. "And you're proving to be more than a perfect pair of—"
I spike a finger in the air. "Don't even think about it."
Edward moves in close with a wicked grin sliding up his cheeks. He's more sex god than he is scholastic welcoming committee, and suddenly it feels as if he's navigating me to his chambers for a little coital inauguration. That tender place between my legs twitches with approval because if anyone is going to give me a little coital inauguration, I'd prefer it was him.
I try to ignore his oozing sexuality and let the mountain air distract me. The thick scent of pines perfume the vicinity with the slight after bite of fresh mountain soil. It's so pretty here with the tall emerald evergreens, the Sugar Maples with their leaves as wide as hands waving in the breeze. That's what I should be focusing on, the beauty in nature and not the ode to testosterone next to me who happens to be eliciting an electrical spark in the most intimate part of me with every third step.
We hit the crosswalk just as the light changes and cross the street with an entire herd of people. I'm not used to this mass of humanity. The entire population of the small town I'm from could fit right here in this crowd. A group of girls dressed in short skirts pass us. Their heads turn to check out Edward, and the lean mean, machine he possesses as his body. The one with long black hair strokes his cheek as we walk on by.
"Looks like all the girls here are pretty friendly," I muse as we head toward a well-landscaped courtyard with a gilded sign reading, Briggs Apartments, vacancies available! Inquire within.
"Not as friendly as you, sugar." He gives a quick wink, and my stomach ignites like a burning coal. "Your roommate looked pretty friendly."
He holds the door open for me, as we move into the overly air-conditioned building.
"Something tells me you'll find out for yourself exactly how friendly she is."
We step into the elevator and glide on up. Edward inspects me from head to toe as if he were mapping me out with those spotlight eyes of his. It's like being under the scrutiny of a microscope each time he glances my way. It's as if he's looking straight into my soul, examining the flaws in the fiber of my being while reading my personal history like a textbook. Not that there's anything of interest to read. My life in general has been boring as toast. That seems to be the only consistency in my world.
God, I hope he's not some freak with a duffle bag fixation getting ready to chain me to his bedpost in some sadomasochistic lair. And the way that sultry smile keeps blinking on and off, I'm not too sure I'd mind. He's a bad boy, I can tell. I can spot them a mile away. I've got some serious troublemaker radar, and usually my gut warns me to steer clear, but there's something about this one that makes me want to fall to my knees and give him ten thousand lashes with my tongue in places that neither lashes nor tongues should ever venture. He's the exact type of guy Emmett is forever telling me to stay away from. The kind that want nothing more than to nail me to the mattress, then forget my name by morning.
"Jessica Stanley." He nods, and I stare into him blankly because, holy shit, he's already forgotten my name. "That's your roommate," he continues. "And, for the record, I've already tapped that well."
I blink back with surprise. "Um, thanks for the info, I think? And eww. I honestly gave you a little more credit than that. I wouldn't have pegged you for a Greek who reduces women to water bearing vessels."
"Well you pegged me wrong—twice. For one, I'm not a Greek." We get off on the seventh floor, and he leads us to the nearest door. "And two, I'm not into degrading women to water bearing vessels, either." He slips a key into the lock, and the door opens to a clean looking living room with a pair of brown leather sofas, a TV the size of the wall. "I prefer notches."
"Very funny." I step in hesitantly. "So, you've lured me to your lair. Good trick. Is this where I get to test my rape whistle? Or do you prefer mace? I've got both handy." I pat down my jeans to confirm this theory and come up empty. Double crap.
"Lured you to my lair?" He moans it out as if trying to seduce me. "And here I thought you wanted to catch up on good times with your big bro?" He strides over to the hall and gives a psychotically loud knock over the nearest door. "Wake the hell up. You've got a visitor," he shouts.
"Tell her I don't want any." A muffled groan escapes from the other side, and I can peg that voice as Emmett's any day of the week.
"He's still in bed this late in the afternoon? God, he must really be sick. I bet he's coming down with the flu or something." I touch my hand to my chest. "I'll see if I can get him some soup."
Edward's chin dips a notch, and his eyes give me a smile all their own. "You might want to hold off on the fluids." He gives another set of walloping knocks over the door. "She says she's your sister," he shouts before setting his eyes in my direction. A devilish grin rides low on his lips. He points to the door jam that divides the hall from the living room and skims his finger down a series of tally marks running in longitudinal lines. "Emmett." He turns to the other side and points to an equally scratched surface. "Edward."
"What's this?" I step over with caution in the event it's some frat boy trap that involves innovative ways to seduce braless freshmen.
"These, my friend, are notches." He leans in, and I can feel the heat emanating off his chest. His broad shoulders partially block the view of what looks to be my brother's name scribbled onto the wall.
"What are the notches for?" There's nothing but rows and rows of tally marks under my brother's name. "Is this some weight lifting game? Wait, let me guess, this is somehow loosely related to wrestling." I roll my eyes at the thought. Emmett has had an unnatural obsession with the sport since he was six.
"Wrestling?" His eyes hood over, and that lewd grin starts budding on his lips again. "You pegged it." He twists a smile that suggests otherwise.
A hard steady wallop shakes the walls, vibrating the tiny apartment.
"God." I clutch at my chest as the banging continues. It's clearly coming from my brother's bedroom. "What the hell is he nailing to the wall?"
"Who." He bleats it out, doing his best impression of an owl—a hotter than hell, amazingly muscular owl, but nonetheless.
"Who what?"
"Who the hell is he nailing to the wall."
It takes a minute for what he's implying to sink in while the loud gunshot-like noises come to a crescendo and the distinct sound of deep guttural groans takes its place.
Everything in me seizes.
"You mean?" I point to the wall and door simultaneously.
"Exactly." He smears a satisfied grin. Clearly he's enjoying my newfound horror.
"Oh no." I take a few steps back to create some metric distance between myself and the perverted scoreboard. It's like I've fallen in some bizarre sexual wonderland, and for a minute I wonder if the plane went down, and I'm lying in a cornfield somewhere just barely clinging to life. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid you have the wrong Emmett. Obviously some man-whore shares my brother's name. And, in no way do I want to stand in the way of his daily drilling. My Emmett would never carve notches into his wall and have a serious headboard banging session in the middle of the afternoon."
"Oh really." He flat lines.
"Yes, really."
Edward with the Biceps probably didn't hear me when I said Swan, he was too busy pooling blood to the lower half of his body in hopes the rest of my clothes would spontaneously fall off. No wonder he's been following me around like a lovesick puppy. I've given him one serious boner to contend with, and now I can practically see the tally marks spinning in his eyes.
"Emmett Swan?" He nods, affirming my worst nightmare.
"Emmett Swan…" I stride back to the tally marks and inspect the sloppy row of lines crossed in groups of five that string all the way down the door jam. "Oh God, oh God, oh God." I spin, taking in the other side of the wall marked Edward and inspect the hieroglyphics that predict his potential for a serious VD outbreak. And, judging by the magnificent scrawl, I'd say the odds of his dick falling off in the very near future are most definitely in his favor.
"This can't be right," I say, turning again in disbelief to inspect the sexual carnage my brother's engaged in since he's been away at Debauchery U. And, here, Mom and I thought he was buried in textbooks, losing himself in the stacks at the library. It looks like the only thing Emmett has been burying himself in is an entire sea of vaginas. "Are there that many girls in North Carolina, or are you importing them in from out of state?" I bite down over my lip. Honestly, I don't know whether to laugh or cry. This has got to be a joke. "Me thinks these walls exaggerate just a tiny bit." Correction—a whole hell of a lot especially where my brother is concerned—at least they'd better.
Edward lets out a laugh, and his sharpened canines flash, his teeth are white as milk. He's got that vampire appeal to him, and my thighs quiver because I just so happen to have a sweet spot for all things vampire right between my legs. Not that my sweet spot has ever entertained a beast of the paranormal variety, or human for that matter, but I digress.
"If anything I've been conservative with the effort." He leans in just above me, pinning me against the wall with his chest. His face inches in toward mine, and my stomach melts in a puddle of heat. "Your brother, however, has been known to be liberal with his chicken scratch." Edward comes in closer and rakes his hot breath over my cheek. His perfect features inspire my heart to try and break free from my chest with its wild palpitations. My adrenaline spikes, and a bite of perspiration breaks out under my arms. I've never been so brazenly propositioned for a kiss, but knowing The Sultan of the Scoreboard, I think the offer extends to far more delicate places—like the aforementioned sweet spot.
The door explodes open, and Emmett springs out with his dark hair rumpled, his big brown eyes, twins to mine, and he looks startled by my presence.
"Bella?" He pulls me into a sweaty hug. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow." He's grinning ear-to-ear still holding me in a semi-headlock. His body smells ripe, and he's sticky to the touch.
"Mom managed to get me on an earlier flight." I give an impish grin as I make my way out of his strangle hold. "So, here I am. Surprise." I hold out my hands. It's only then I notice he's wearing nothing but boxers. Truthfully, this entire scenario has sort of turned the surprise around on me and not in any good way.
A brunette with a matted mane ambles out of his room and down the hall before shutting herself in what I presume to be the bathroom.
"Oh my God, it's true!" And I was the last person who was going to buy into the pornographic writing on the wall.
"What's true?" His dark brows furrow as he crosses his arms. Emmett is gorgeous with those chocolate eyes, dimples deep enough to sink your heart into. No wonder he's bedding his way through school. The girls aren't giving him a choice.
To my horror a beautiful blonde pokes her head out of his bedroom. She gives a slight wave at Edward, and my stomach drops like a stone.
"You've got two in there?" My muscles seize. "You are not the Emmett Swan I grew up with. For sure you aren't the same Emmett Swan who called home once a week to lecture me on boys and their wandering penises." Because obviously he was speaking from experience.
"Penises?" Edward mouths the word, and I choose to ignore him.
"What? We were having a study group." Emmett frowns into me with a look that suggests I'd better believe him and quick.
He presses his hand over my back and ushers us to the couch.
"Study group, my ass," I whisper. And here I thought he was nothing like the playboys he preached long and hard for me to avoid, when all along he's been their fearless leader. Or should I say co-leader. I glare over at Edward who's making himself comfy on a barstool nearby. He leans over the kitchen counter just gawking at the two of us as if readying for the show, and I can't help stealing glances. It's not my fault. He's handsome in an abnormal freak of nature kind of way, and his biceps seem to be taking my mind off the fact my sweet big bro was nothing but a big fat lie.
"So what's up?" Emmett gives his signature dimpled grin. "Are you all settled in your dorm?"
"Yes." I shoot a quick look to Edward and his prying eyes. "I am." I'm in no mood to run down the sins of my faux sister when my own flesh and blood has some serious carnal issues I'd like to contend with.
"Good." He runs his fingers through his thick black hair, totally unmoved by the fact he's in nothing but his skivvies. But, now that I've been made aware of the public service he's been generously gifting the ladies of Whitney Briggs, I'm sure it's far more clothing than he's used to. Emmett props his feet up on the coffee table which would have been a felony offense if our type A mother were here. Of course, she would have been wild-eyed and pissed long before now—what with two girls streaming from his bedroom, his sex life mapped out like the periodic table of elements for all to see. That alone would have killed her on the spot, and she would never have made it to this new feet-on-the-furniture version of my brother. "You like your roommate?"
"Jessica Stanley," I nod. "Real friendly girl."
A dark laugh sputters from him as he pumps a fist over at Edward, his comrade in tally mark wielding arms.
"She's a cool chick." Emmett reaches for the remote, and the enormous television blinks to life. "You'll like her once you get to know her, but steer clear of her social circle. She's a party animal if you know what I mean. I'll set you up with some nice girls who like to hang out and read in their spare time, like you. Rumor has it there's a book club over at Prescott. You'll fit right in."
I try not to glance at Edward who's just taken an obnoxiously loud bite of an apple while my cheeks burn through a dozen shades of red. It's one thing to be a self-proclaimed book nerd, but to have Emmett announce it like its some social disease that forces bookworms to be exiled in a building together is another.
I clear my throat. "That sounds great, but I was thinking about busting out of my shell a little this year. You know, maybe joining a sorority?" Not really, but, now that the whole roommate thing isn't quite panning out how I hoped, it doesn't seem like such a bad idea.
"Rush is in a couple weeks." Edward lifts his apple as if he were toasting my efforts.
"No." Emmett shakes his head emphatically. "No rushing." He glares over at Edward for commending the idea. "Bella this is Edward my bonehead of a roommate. Don't listen to a word he says. Eddie—this is my baby sister, keep your hands, and stupid ideas, the hell away from her." He turns back to me. "Besides she's not into guys."
"What?" This is news to me. "I am, too." I'm quick to rectify my sexual standing to the nipple ogler in the next room.
"No, you're not." Emmett flips the channel until it lands on some football game. "You're like thirteen." He gives a sideways grin. "Besides, you're just a baby. You're not allowed to like guys. You can like guys in books. How's that? I hear book boyfriends are all the rage."
Thirteen? Book boyfriends? I glance over to Edward, and my face heats up like a Texas sidewalk. The only thing in a rage around here is me.
"Sounds perfectly boring," I say it mostly to myself.
"That's my goal." Emmett flips the channels again before settling on a cage fight. "I'm here to make sure your stay at Whitney Briggs is perfectly boring—and more than slightly educational."
The small harem from his bedroom saunters across the living room, holding their maxi-dresses at the knees and waving like pageant queens as they take off.
"See you tonight at Delta." The blonde blows a quick kiss to Edward, but he still has those emerald eyes locked over mine.
Looks like Emmett has a different set of standards for me than he does for himself.
"Perfectly boring," I whisper.
I glance up at Edward, and my thighs quiver. He's branding himself over my skin, my heart, and not one bit of me wants to stop him.
I have a feeling my stay at Whitney Briggs is going to be anything but boring.