Page 38 of Wrong For Me

A tittering laugh from the front of the room draws my attention, and I immediately curse myself for looking up. There’s a group of girls sitting in the first row who keep turning around to look at me before bringing their heads close together to whisper. They aren’t even trying to hide it.

Fans rarely do. It’s almost like they think celebrities—and their children— aren’t real people. I sigh, ducking my head again, knowing that I’ll be seeing them when orientation ends. They’ve obviously recognized me, which means they’ll either ask me if I can get them autographs or, worse, try to befriend me in the hopes that I might take them around to my dad’s house.

I’ve been down this road before.

Needing something to distract me and give me a chance to hide my face, I pick up my phone again to type out a response to Will.

Me:Day is going fine. There was a whole fiasco with my advisor, but I’ll tell you about it when I get home.

Assuming he doesn’t have plans with Eva. The thought gives me a little pang. There are about a dozen family members I could call if I need some company tonight, but none of them understand me quite the way Will does.

None of them know how gutted I was after the festival when Leo didn’t call.

My phone dings with a new text.

Will:Sounds good. I’ll have some take-out waiting.

I breathe out a sigh of relief, but it’s short lived. A grumbling mutter from the aisle at my side has me looking up. This time it isn’t giggling celeb watchers, though. This time it’s Leo Malone. Scowling at me. Again.

“There aren’t any seats,” he says, jaw clenched so tight itmustbe painful.

I glance around the crowded lecture hall. The room is large but this orientation is for grad students across multiple departments, everyone who will be working as Teaching Assistants this fall. I see a couple free seats scattered around, but most of them are far down towards the front and in the middle of rows.

Leo is eyeing the empty aisle chair next to me like it might bite him. I have no idea why he’s acting so antagonistic towards me. Is he embarrassed that he slept with someone he’ll now be working with? Or was he so underwhelmed by our night together that he can’t stand the thought of putting his body within three feet of mine?

Whatever the reason, it stings to see him act like this. And it pisses me the hell off.

“There’s a seat down there,” I say shortly, pointing towards the group of tittering girls.

He frowns at them then looks back to me. “Why don’tyousit down there?”

It’s my turn to clench my jaw. “Because I got here first.”

My seat is in the back of the room, just the way I like it. It’s so much easier to make myself invisible from back here. If he thinks I’m giving it up just because he can’t be civil, he’s nuts.

Leo scowls at me. “Those girls look like they’re much more your scene than mine.” From his tone, I can tell he means it as an insult.

God, I don’t know what the hell I was thinking in Lake Tahoe. I must have been nearly as drunk as Everly that night. It’s the only explanation for why I would have been so enamored with this total asshole.

“They’re looking at you,” he points out, apparently unaware that he’s in danger of a punch to the junk, which is conveniently located fairly close to my face since he’s still hovering in the aisle like a weirdo. I don’t consider myself a violent person, but I did grow up with River, Fox, and Will. If I got anything from the Ransome boys, it’s the ability to kick some ass if I need to. “Friends of yours?”

“I’ve never talked to those girls in my life,” I say, somehow managing to sound calm. “Again, I was sitting here first. Maybe if you didn’t feel the need to whine to Hernandez, you would have been here early enough to sit wherever you want.”

“I wasn’t whining,” he snaps.

“Sure,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’m sure that conversation had nothing to do with me at all.”

“Conceited much?”

“Asshole much?” I shoot back.

He opens his mouth, probably to argue some more, but there’s a squealing burst of feedback from the speaker system and we both jump a little. I nearly forgot that we’re sitting in a crowded lecture hall. Even when we’re arguing, I’m completely captivated by Leo. It had been like this while he was mixing drinks at the concert, and at the club later that night. Like we were the only two people in the room.

“Everyone please take a seat,” a voice booms through the speakers before another burst of static has the whole room wincing. Down at the front, a tall, white-haired woman is arranging the microphone on her lapel. “That better? Good. Let’s get started.” Her eyes scan the room, landing on Leo, who’s still standing in the aisle. “Please join us,” she says, and there are some titters as many of the students turn around to look.

Leo falls into the empty chair next to me, scowling as hard as he’d been when I walked into Hernandez’s office half an hour ago. His leg brushes mine when he sits and it’s like getting an electric shock, even through the layers of his slacks and my dress.

Maybe he felt it too, because he immediately pulls his leg away, like he’s been burned.