Dropping my book, I expelled an exasperated breath and bent over to pick it up.

And because I’d already deemed the day as off, my eyes betrayed me, getting tangled up on the way her boots wrapped snuggly around her calves. I mean, her body was hot, a true work of art.

And, I’d blame the boots later for what happened next.

You see, something fractured in my head, making me almost, I don’t know, deranged as I took her in. Three hundred and something days ago, I’d had my hands all over that perfect ass of hers. I’d been hard for her constantly.

And yet, the night I’d taken her virginity had been our last night together.

Because I’d kicked her to the curb. Hard.

And, I’d made a promise to myself a year ago when we broke up that she was off limits, and that I’d do whatever it took to stay away from her. Sometimes that meant kissing girls right in front of her, and it sure as hell meant not letting our eyes meet.

Plainly stated, I just wanted to forget about her and move the fuck on.

Yeah, then why did I now find myself still kneeling on the ground, my eyes eating her up, devouring what I’d denied them for an entire year? I had to shake my head at my stupidity, recalling another time I’d been on my knees for her, when I’d begged her to go out with me.

And now, like it was in slow motion and acted of its own accord, my wayward hand reached out and stroked her leg above her boot. Her skin was cool and wet from the rain, but that didn’t stop me.

And because she froze, I lingered, drifting up to her upper thigh to just under the hemline of her skirt. My hand slowly inched its way closer to her underwear. Maybe, just maybe, I could pull her to me and put my mouth—she flinched away from me. Chest heaving, my hand dropped. I paused, trying to get myself under control with all the blood rushing to my crotch.

Already on the road to hell, I rose up off the ground and let my gaze keep on its path of perfect destruction, blinking at the sliver of bare midriff where a dandelion charm dangled from her belly button piercing. I’d had my tongue there, I thought. Lighting fingers flashed and jerked down her shirt, hiding my view. Not caring, my eyes continued their journey, past her swiftly rising chest, over her plump lips and straight into glittering eyes. Eyes the color of an angry sea, her gaze trapped mine, reminding me what a bastard I was.

I’d come this far, so I didn’t stop, watching her jawline tighten and her nose flare. Disgust radiated off her face. She’d never forgive me for my sins. Not a girl like her. She had hope for the future; she believed in shit like following your dreams and finding love.

She was the complete opposite of me.

I grew roots in that spot by the lockers, and as people passed, I barely noticed, caught up in the images that flickered through my head like a movie, pictures of us intertwined and naked in my Porsche, pictures of me breaking her heart in the quad.

Taking a deep breath, I mentally chunked those images in the trash.

Must ignore her and the sweat that had popped out on my face.

That period of my life was over.

Yet, I’m sorry teetered on the edge of my lips, but never spilled out.

Because if I told her I was sorry, I was inviting her back in.

I stood there, feeling straight-up stupid, and waited for her to lose her temper and go off on me for touching her. I shouldn’t have done it.

Did her heart thud as hard as mine?

Did she ever think about me and wonder what could have been?

A bell rang, shattering the illusion that we were alone. With a Herculean effort, I broke the connection between our gazes, picked my runaway book off the floor, and turned back to stare into my locker.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my heart was pounding.

After a year of avoiding each other—of me avoiding her—I’d taken a good, long gander at her and survived. Unscathed. See, it hadn’t been bad. She wasn’t all that. Yeah. Carry-on. Find another hot girl. They’re a dime a dozen around here. And hadn’t that been the way I’d dealt with her absence anyway? Hadn’t I screwed every faceless girl I could to forget her?

Yeah.

And still she didn’t say a word at our lockers. But why would she? She was done with me.

Instead, she huffed and slammed hers. I didn’t relax until the sound of her soft footsteps drifted further and further away. She was headed to English Lit class, same as me, although she sat in the front and I sat in the back. I’d sit back there and stare at her back, feeling one part miserable for our past and another part thankful she’d gotten away from me.

One last furtive glance in her direction, and I saw Spider wrap his arms around her and lean down to give her a peck on the cheek. She stood on her tip toes and kissed him back, laughing at something he said.

How easily she forgot me.

It was obvious they were tight because I rarely saw her with any other guys. She’d dated some ballet dude for a while after we’d broken up, but it hadn’t lasted. Spider was her one constant. She’d always claimed they were only friends, but what about now? They talked in the halls, ate lunch together, and I’d heard she spent the night with him sometimes.

He wasn’t good enough for her. Neither was I.

His bleached white hair and lean build were in direct contrast to me. He had a reputation as a good guitar player according to Sebastian. So what. I didn’t like him much. No reason, really, or maybe it was the way his eyes shifted to Dovey whenever she walked in a room. He was screamingly obvious he wanted more from her. Were they having sex? My body tightened into a hard ball at that disturbing thought.

Forget her. You’re a fuck-up, I reminded myself. And fuck-ups don’t get the good girls.

Emma Easton, head cheerleader and future trophy wife, attached herself to my side like glue. And that’s the type of girl I spent my time with. Superficial and beautiful. Just like me.

“We need to talk,” she said right off the bat, without even a hello.

“So talk,” I said, not stopping my stride. I wanted to get to Lit so I could get a seat as far away from Dovey as I could.

“Not here. Why don’t we go to Portia’s Pastries after school?” She stroked my arm.

I halted. She’d been acting odd lately, almost as if she wanted more from me. Which was crazy because our hooking up had stopped back in October.

And I’d made it clear the sex was over. No particular reason. Just didn’t want her getting attached. We’d grown up together and had been friends more than anything. I kinda felt sorry for her because I got how messed up her home life was with a dad who was a famous televangelist. But she’d never be my girlfriend. I didn’t do girlfriends. I didn’t do relationship responsibility. Not since Dovey.