Stupid Girl(4)

The guy ignored me all right, and continued to pick up my scattered belongings. My eyes avoided his face but noticed tattoos snaking down one arm. The other was inked, covered with random works of art, and a dark band tattooed around one wrist. Black letters were inked onto the knuckles of both hands, but his nuts apparently had recovered and he was moving too fast for me to read them. I didn’t want to get caught staring just to see what they said. For that matter, I really didn’t care what the words said. I wanted to be out of the situation. It wasn’t happening, though. Instead, it was dragging on and on.

The group of jocks were still laughing and now calling him names. He glanced over his shoulder. They laughed harder. He shook his head and continued picking up my books. “Ignore them,” he said. He was a little closer now. “Fucking retards.” Fahkin retahds. I stood with my box, and he rose with me. Grabbing my hat off the ground, he plopped it onto my head. He inclined toward my loaded arms. “I’ll get that.”

I flashed a determined look at him. He was about six feet tall, lean, broad shoulders. A piece of tattooed art poked out of the collar of his shirt and crept up his neck on one side. Probably more beneath the shirt. Definitely not your average clean-cut college athlete. I shook my head and started walking. Typical inked-up punk big mouth bad ass. Surely he had better things to do. “Thanks, I’ve got it,” I threw over my shoulder. Pushy guy …

I didn’t get three steps before the box was lifted out of my arms. The guy gave me a crooked grin, and it made the scar at his eye pucker. “Least I can do for slamming into you. Least you can do for charging my nuts with your knee.” Chahgin’.

My gaze slammed into his and held steady. “Look. I don’t need or want your help, and you don’t have to make anything up to me. It’s no big deal.” I wasn't too sure about him, but apparently he liked to fight. And he was a major flirt. Or he was a lunatic. Either way, he was trouble. It was so obvious. “Your nuts will survive.”

“I’m taking the box to your room, Sunshine, and that’s that. No need for hostility. So lead the way.”

Godalmighty, he wasn’t giving up. I could kick him again, but that’d just cause another scene. The last thing I wanted to do was draw more attention. I’d just gotten here! With a final hard glare, I turned and started toward the dorm.

He followed. Whistling.

I thought the best thing to do was ignore him, pretend he didn’t bother me, so that’s what I did. I walked the remaining few feet to the dorm entrance, fished my key card out of my pocket and pushed it through the slide. His big tattooed arm held the door open for me. I shook my head and passed him. We walked in together, hit the stairwell, and started climbing. My boots scruffed against the old concrete steps; his Nikes made no sound at all. I slid a guarded glance toward him, just to make sure he didn't shank me or something. I pretended he wasn’t there. Kind of hard since all I could think about was that stupid kiss.

“So you got a name, Sunshine?” he asked.

He was one step below me, and I glanced over my shoulder, pushing open the door to the second floor. “Yes.”

A few yards down the corridor, he chuckled, throaty and full-on male. “So you gonna tell me what it is?” His accent was unique and sharp. “Let me guess? Ballbuster?”

I spotted dorm room twenty-one and, digging the key from my pocket, unlocked the door. I shook my head. Everything about him screamed player. Well, actually, had he not been wearing a WU Silverbacks jersey, everything would’ve screamed thug. That thought was going against what Mom had always taught me—not to judge by looks alone. Kelsy Evans had proved that theory our senior year when he’d slipped what Jilly had referred to as sex poison into my drink. Never would his all-American good looks, family upbringing and incredible charm have raised suspicion that he was really a perverted asshole. Not until it was too late. Jilly hadn’t liked him from the moment I’d first brought him to the ranch, and he’d never missed an opportunity to remind us all about that. This guy? Open book. He wasn’t trying to pretend he was anything other than a badass heart-breaking flirt. There could be something said for honesty, anyway.

Still. I was in a new place, with new people, away from the safety of my very familiar home and protective brothers. I was on my own and needed to be careful. My brothers and grandfather had already threatened to drag me home at the first sign of trouble—which was something I avoided at all costs. Until now, apparently. I'd noticed a haunted glint in this guy’s unusual eyes when he'd looked at me, though, and it had unnerved me. Big time.