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  “Yes, you!”

  “Are you upset?”

  “That you’re objectifying me?” she asked.

  He laughed. “That I find you attractive.”

  “You’re the worst roommate ever.” She popped open the bottle of water and took a long swig, trying to ignore the look Pace was giving her.

  He didn’t just find her attractive. The looked like he could eat her for dessert right on the kitchen table.

  “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.

  Stacia put the cap back on her bottle and moved into the living room, taking the seat kitty-corner to him. “Nothing is wrong.”

  He arched an eyebrow, and she sighed.

  “Seriously, nothing. Bri got engaged to Eric.”

  “Oh, yeah. I know,” he said with total nonchalance.

  “What? She told you before us?” Stacia asked in disbelief. She tucked her legs up underneath her, pretzel-style.

  “Are you kidding me right now?” he asked, shooting her a skeptical look. “There’s no way she would have told me. I actually knew before Bri.”

  “How in the hell?”

  “Eric talked to her dad. Did the whole ask-permission thing. I was around when it happened,” Pace explained.

  Stacia blinked and then blinked again. She was beginning to wonder if she was in a real alternate reality at this point. Pace had known that Eric was going to propose? He’d known and never mentioned it…to anyone?

  “What is that look for, Pink?” Pace asked.

  He reached for the beer on the coffee table and then leaned back on the leather couch. His eyes flicked between Stacia and the TV screen as the running back carried the ball into the end zone.

  “You didn’t spill about the engagement?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “I just…I’m just surprised.”

  “It’s still supposed to be a secret, right?”

  “Uh…yes,” Stacia confirmed.

  “I didn’t think she’d want it ruined.”

  “Three years ago, you would have jumped at the first chance to humiliate Bryna or ruin her life,” Stacia reminded him. “Now, you’ve been able to keep her engagement a total secret? What am I missing?”

  Pace stared her straight in the face with those gorgeous blue eyes, the chiseled cheekbones, the dimple that killed her, and that smile that had done her in one too many times. “Maybe I’ve grown up.”

  Stacia looked at him doubtfully. “Maybe.”

  “Speaking of,” he said with a grin, “I’m throwing a back-to-school party for the football team next weekend.”

  “You’re what?” she asked in exasperation.

  “Should be fun. Just like old times,” he told her with a wink.

  Stacia groaned and tried to ignore the pounding in her head. Football players and likely the entire cheer squad and then some were going to be here, where she now lived with Pace. What could go wrong?

  “Don’t make noises like that,” Pace said under his breath.

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “Sexual,” he told her. He looked like he was ready to throw her over his shoulder and carry her into his bedroom.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. To cover her pink cheeks, she refreshed the email on her phone, and a new email came through. “Oh my God.”

  “What?”

  “Oh my God!” she screamed this time, vaulting out of the chair and jumping up and down. “I got in! I got in! I got in!”

  Pace popped up, too, and pulled her into his arms. “Congratulations!”

  She threw her arms around him, and he picked her up and spun her around in circles. She laughed and held on tighter, basking in the euphoria of knowing she had achieved the first of many steps to getting her broadcast journalism degree.

  Pace slowly came to a halt in the middle of the living room, her phone and the game abandoned. Their bodies were pressed firmly together. Her breathing was heavy as exhilaration still coursed through her. His hands were fitted to her waist, pulling her more firmly against his rock-solid body. And then all the desire she had tried to keep at bay seemed to shoot straight between her legs.

  Part of her wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and let him have his way with her. And, with the need apparent in his eyes, she knew that he would do it. And he’d do it damn well.

  Her body tensed against him, and then he slowly released her. Her body slid against his as her tiny five-foot frame hit the floor of the apartment. The air was heated between them as she stared up into his face. Her brain was fuzzy and demanding, wanting nothing more than to be ravaged in that moment. To let it take them wherever it willed.

  “Stacia,” he gruffly let loose, his voice pleading with her in that one word.

  She bit her lip, aching to step into him, but through the haze, she knew that it would just lead to problems. This wasn’t love. It was lust. It was wanting her body satisfied in a way only Pace knew. And it would lead down a road she wasn’t willing to travel.

  “I can’t,” she murmured before fleeing to her room.

  The door closed behind her, and she leaned her body back against it, trying to regain control of her breathing. She shuddered out a hard breath and decided she was going to need a cold shower or a good night with her vibrator to try to get over the feel of his hands on her.

  THE FIRST DAY OF CLASSES were a welcome relief to what Stacia had been dealing with at home the past couple of weeks. Avoiding Pace entirely seemed to be about the only effective way to keep her sanity at this point. When they were together, they were drawn to each other, like magnets. And then, every time they were close, he couldn’t seem to stop touching her. A caress of her hair, a touch of her waist, and a passing graze as she walked into the other room. It was so comfortable, so normal, that Stacia hadn’t even realized it was happening right away.

  Now, she just tried to be in the apartment as little as possible, and she was not looking forward to the party he was throwing this weekend.

  She sank into a seat in the middle of the classroom for her last journalism class for the day. Each of her other two classes today had ended after a half hour of going over the syllabus and discussing the class objectives. Stacia thought it would be too good to be true to make it three for three.

  A girl took the seat next to her and removed a book, which was already flagged with Post-its, and a notepad full of notes. Stacia’s eyes rounded. Did we have reading already?

  “Hey,” she said, leaning over toward the girl. “You were in my intro to journalism class this morning, right?”

  The girl peeked over at her. She had a distinctly nervous appearance about her, but she was pretty in a bookworm sort of way. She had dark brown hair in a high ponytail with little or possibly no makeup on. She was in khakis that Stacia would never touch and a pretty cute top that might be knock-off Chanel…if the girl even knew it.

  “Um…I was in the class,” she confirmed.

  “Great!” Stacia said, flipping her hair off her shoulder. “I’m Stacia. Are you a broadcast major?”

  “Um…I’m Whitney, and yeah, I was just accepted. I heard the wait list was horrendous.”

  “Wait list?” Stacia asked in confusion.

  “Um…well, yeah. It’s a tough major.”

  “Right.” Stacia chewed on her lip. If it was that difficult to get in, then how had she made it with her shitty grades? “Well, it’s great to meet you, Whitney. I’m in broadcast, too, and I’m hoping to get into sports broadcast next semester. Are you looking to be in front of a camera?”

  Whitney shook her head. “No! Behind a camera and, ideally, writing for the newsroom.”

  Stacia nodded. “Interesting. I see that you already have the book tagged. Did we have required reading?”

  “Oh, no, but I worked for Professor Jenkins last semester, and I know how tough he is. I wanted to be on top of my work.”

  “I see.” Stacia frowned. Shit. She could not have a tough teacher for her first semester. “Wel
l, if you ever want to study together or anything, just let me know.”

  “Oh, um…I always study alone.”

  Great. Of course you do. “No biggie,” Stacia said, slumping back in her chair.

  “But I’m free if you ever want to get lunch,” Whitney offered with the first genuine, not nerve-induced, smile.

  Stacia smiled back. “I’d like that.”

  She retrieved her notepad and flexed her fingers, preparing for a full class after Whitney’s comments. But, already, she was feeling a little better about this. She had awesome friends, but it was kind of nice to meet someone without any expectations of who she was.

  An hour later, Stacia walked out of Professor Jenkins’s intro to telecommunications class with a buzz of excitement. Whitney was at her side, and they kept going on and on about how amazing he was. Lively, friendly, and enthusiastic. He might be a tough grader, but he really seemed interested in the topic, which made some of the more boring aspects entertaining.

  “I knew you’d love him!” Whitney said with a giant smile on her face. Her anxiety had simply melted away at the end of class, and she seemed like a totally different person.

  “For real. It was worth kicking my own ass this summer to finish off the requirements to apply.”

  Whitney shot her a confused look. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it was killer, waiting until the week before school to tell us whether or not we got in, right?”

  “Um…no,” Whitney said as they entered the nearest lunch spot on campus. “Applications were due in April. I heard back the first week in May…unless you were wait-listed.”

  Stacia stopped in her tracks and stared at her. “But I didn’t apply until the end of summer term,” she explained.

  “That’s usually for spring acceptances.”

  “Huh,” she said, considering the situation. She ordered a salad and a water and then headed to a window table with Whitney. “Maybe it’s because I’m a senior, and I’ll have to stay a fifth year to finish.”

  She hadn’t yet told her friends or Pace or anyone about that catch yet, but here she was, telling a complete stranger.

  “That’s probably it. Or you’re just brilliant,” Whitney said with a giggle.

  Stacia snorted. “Not exactly. I think I scraped by into the major. I’m not sure why they selected me.”

  “You probably killed the essay,” Whitney encouraged, digging into her turkey sandwich. “I’ve heard they take people just off of that sometimes.”

  “Well, whatever works. I’m here now. Though I’m a little worried about keeping up in all these classes,” she admitted.

  “You’ll be fine!” Whitney encouraged. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I’ve had the worst luck with people trying to use me or cheat off me. We can totally study together sometime. Or there’s always the tutor center. My friend Simon works there. He’d be a great help. I could ask him to work with you if you want.”

  “That would be incredible,” Stacia said with a sigh of relief.

  “Anytime.”

  “And, you know, my roommate is throwing a party at our place this weekend, if you want to come,” Stacia offered.

  “A…party?” Whitney asked, as if she had never heard of one before.

  “Yeah. I mean…only if you want to. Should be a bunch of hot guys there…unless your friend Simon isn’t so much of a friend.”

  “Oh my God,” Whitney said. “Simon is just a friend. Friend zone 101. He has never seen me like that.”

  Stacia snorted again. “I highly doubt that.”

  “You have no idea. Just look at you,” Whitney said, gesturing to Stacia. “No one has ever friend-zoned you.”

  Stacia shrugged and pushed her salad around. “I didn’t always have it easy,” she said, seeing a bit of herself in Whitney. “High school was a nightmare.”

  “It is for everyone!”

  Stacia laughed and shrugged. “All right, you’re right. So, come to my party anyway! We could invite Simon.”

  “Um…no. He’d never come.”

  “We’ll work on it,” Stacia encouraged.

  Helping someone else’s love life would be much easier than navigating her own at the moment.

  Stacia ended up having four of her five classes with Whitney. It seemed a lot of the same people were in every class, and though she hadn’t put herself out there to meet everyone, Whitney knew a bunch already and had introduced her. In a way, it was so strange for Stacia to have this. All she’d ever had were cheer friends. And, sure, she didn’t really know any of these people yet, but she had two more years to get to know people.

  “So, you’re still coming tonight, right?” Stacia asked Whitney on their way out of their last class Friday afternoon.

  “Yes, I’m all set.”

  “Great. Do you need a ride home or anything?” Stacia asked.

  She knew that Whitney took the bus off-campus every afternoon. So far, Whitney had declined Stacia’s offer every time.

  “No, I’m fine. I’ll just hop on the bus.”

  “Seriously, it’s right around the corner.”

  “Okay, but just this once. I don’t mind the bus though.”

  Words Stacia knew she would never hear from her friends.

  They walked the rest of the way to the parking lot, and when they rounded the corner, Stacia found Bryna waiting by her Mercedes SUV.

  “Hey, Bri!” Stacia said. “This is a surprise.”

  “E is stuck at practice, and I rode here with him. I thought maybe we could go shopping or something if you didn’t have other plans.” Bryna’s eyes traveled to Whitney.

  Stacia knew Bryna was a jealous friend and hoped to make it through this next bit of awkwardness.

  “Sure. I’m just dropping Whitney off at home. She’s in all my classes this semester.”

  Whitney stuck her hand out. “Whitney Parrish. Nice to meet you.”

  “Bryna.” She briefly shook Whitney’s hand and gave Stacia a pointed look.

  “Wait…are you Bryna Turner? Like, the one dating the assistant coach?” Whitney asked.

  Bryna’s eyebrows shot up. “Engaged actually.”

  Everyone knew Bryna. Stacia had come to learn that was a fact of life.

  “Congratulations. It’s nice to meet you,” Whitney said.

  “And how do you know that Eric and I are together?”

  “Doesn’t the whole school? You’re kind of famous.”

  “I see.” She turned back to Stacia. “Can we go?”

  “Yes!” Stacia said quickly. “Let’s.”

  The drive to Whitney’s apartment was perfectly painful. Stacia waved at Whitney as she left and promised to see her tonight before driving away with Bryna.

  “Well, she’s…interesting, S,” Bryna said.

  Stacia shrugged. “She’s nice.”

  “Was she wearing khakis?”

  “Don’t be so judgmental.”

  “Me?” Bryna’s eyes widened. “You’re usually the judgy-judgy one.”

  “I am not!”

  “Okay, fine. Are you going to tell me what the fuck has been going on with you lately?” Bryna demanded. “You break up with Marshall with no explanation. You start taking journalism classes, which I think is great but so not you. You moved in with Pace after refusing to let us live with you. Now, you’re replacing us?”

  Stacia took a deep breath and then pulled over into the next parking lot. She parked and then turned in her seat to look at Bryna. “I am not replacing you or Trihn or Maya,” she said with confidence she never felt around Bryna. “I can have other friends.”

  “None of this seems like you.”

  “Why?” Stacia snapped. “Because I’m not following you around like a brain-dead sheep?” She slapped her hand over her mouth in shock at her own words.

  The only time she had ever stood up to Bryna had been about Pace. When their friendship had almost fallen apart, she had held her ground, and they’d gotten over it. But, after that, St
acia had been careful not to let anything else come between them again.

  “Do you think that’s what I want from you?” Bryna asked, bristling.

  “Sometimes,” Stacia whispered in a tiny little voice.

  “I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to feel like you’re one of my minions. I had those in high school, S, and that isn’t friendship. That’s blind devotion. I consider you to be one of my very best friends. I’d do anything to make you happy, but I can’t help if you won’t talk to me and tell me what’s wrong. And I definitely can’t do it if you think that I just want you to fall in line.”

  Stacia sagged, realizing how harsh she had come off. “I know, I know. I am just…going through a midlife crisis or something.”

  Bryna laughed at that. “A midlife crisis?”

  “Yeah. I’m just trying to find me, and I’m not sure who I am.”

  “You’re my drop-dead gorgeous best friend. You’ll figure it out.”

  “I guess,” Stacia said.

  “So…what really happened with Marshall?”

  Stacia bit her lip and glanced at her manicure. “I didn’t love him.”

  “I never got the impression that mattered to you.”

  “Me either,” Stacia said with a laugh. “But then I was sitting at the draft—with Jude fucking Rose, at that”—Bryna cringed—“and I realized I was miserable. I didn’t love Marshall. I hardly liked him. And I wanted something of my own. So, I started the journalism classes to try to become a sports sideline reporter. If I can’t have football with a guy or cheer, I’ll make it my career another way.”

  “Actually kind of brilliant,” Bryna admitted.

  “And the thing with Pace is temporary until I find something else,” Stacia repeated the empty words she had been saying for the last three weeks when she hadn’t looked once for another place to stay.

  “I’m only going to say this once because it makes me sick to just think about it…Pace is a motherfucking idiot for letting you go.”

  “Bri…”

  “I know you’re not QB-jumping, and you’re not after my stepbrother. You’re finding you. But, in case finding you involves ending up in his bed again, know that I’ll still love you. Even if I’ll find you slightly disgusting.”