King of Campus (16 page)

“In an hour.  I’ll see whatever it is you have to show me then.”  I wave my hand towards the bedroom door.  “Now get out of my room before I bludgeon you to death.”  It’s not an idle threat either… I’ll do it.

Using both hands, she shakes me again until it feels like my brain is being scrambled.  “You’re going to want to see this right now,” she promises.

Maybe the quickest way to get Lexie to vacate my room is to agree to her demands.  The girl is acting like a damn lunatic.  Which, in all honesty, isn’t her usual style.

“I’ve been getting text messages all morning.”

Still feeling blurry eyed, I finally hoist myself up into a sitting position.  My hair is all over the place and I have to shove it out of my face so I can actually see her.  Plus, I don’t have my contacts in.  So, even without all the hair in my face, I still can’t see a damn thing.

“You woke me up to tell me how popular you are?  This is hardly breaking news.”  I try to lie back down as my eyes start to feather closed again.

“Wake up or I swear to God, I’ll slap you silly.  Hell, I’m going to slap you silly for not telling me about this.  I can’t believe I had to read about it on the freaking internet.  Some friend you are,” she mutters.

Sure, she’s speaking English but it’s in no way coherent.  What the hell is she even babbling about?  It’s like she’s talking in riddles and I’m losing what little patience I have at seven o’clock in the morning.  Which isn’t much.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

“This!”  And with that, she shoves the screen of her laptop in my face.  But like I said, I can barely see without my glasses or contacts.

“Just a minute,” I grumble before stretching over to feel around on my nightstand for my black framed glasses.  Attaching them to my face, I blink at the screen until it slowly comes into focus.

“How could you not tell me?  I thought I was your best friend!”  Lexie’s voice is pitched somewhere between petulant and irritated.  Not to mention screechy.  It’s starting to hurt my eardrums.

Slowly the images on her computer screen filter their way through my still groggy brain. As much as I’d like to look away, I can’t.  It’s like a horrific car accident I can’t rip my eyes from.

Her hands go to her hips.  “Don’t deny that it’s you.”

Oh, there’s no denying that at all.  The images of me are crystal clear.  As are the ones of Roan.

What the hell?

What.

The.

Freaking.

Hell!

Shaking my head, I try to make sense out of what I’m seeing.  But I can’t.  “Um, we’re partners for a business ethics project.  And we worked on it yesterday.”

She raises a brow before looking pointedly back at the photos.  Holy mother of Christ.  There are five of them in total.

Finally I snap, “You’re the one who sent him to pick me up from the studio yesterday.”  I glare at her before announcing, “I blame you for this!”

Quickly she shakes her head in denial.  “I sent him over so you wouldn’t have to walk home,” she waves her hand around at the computer screen, “and
this
looks like way more than working on some class project.”

Reluctantly I admit that she’s right.  It
does
look like way more than studying.

The first picture is of us walking out of the dance studio together.  He’s holding the door open for me.  Okay.  No big deal.  Moving on…

The second picture is of him handing me a smoothie.  Again.  Nothing to see here, folks.

The third is of us sitting in his SUV.  It looks like we’re having a serious conversation.  But so what?  People sit in trucks and talk all the damn time.  Give me a break.

The forth is of him holding my hand, dragging me through the library.  Which okay…
maybe
it could be misconstrued as something it’s not.  But who the heck cares?

And the fifth… well, that’s when we were watching that couple and he was doing his whole lip reading parlor trick.

Except… we aren’t looking at the couple.

Nope.

We’re staring at each other and even though Roan has a ball cap pulled low over his eyes, his clothing is the same as in the earlier pictures that were snapped making it completely obvious that it’s him.  Our faces are so close.  Like we’re just on the verge of kissing.

Oh my god!

Is that really what we looked like?

All heated up like that?

With a little too much force, I slam the screen of her laptop shut.  I don’t want to look at those stupid, not to mention intrusive, pictures anymore.  And I sure as hell don’t want to read all the comments.  Because there have to be about three hundred of them.

Seriously?  Do people have absolutely nothing better to do with their time than sit around trolling the Roan King website for up-to-date info on him?  Or posting pictures?

Well… yeah, apparently so by the ridiculous number of comments that have already been posted and shared and tweeted...

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, they don’t know who the mystery girl is,” she pauses before adding, “yet.”

Yet...

Great.

My eyes arrow to hers.

Very gently, she asks, “Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two?”

Rather emphatically I shake my head.  “I told you- we have a class together and we’re partners for a project.  That’s it.”

Technically I’m not lying to my best friend.  Then I remember Saturday night and the kiss we shared in the elevator.  You know… the one where he all but crushed those amazingly talented lips down on mine, giving me the best damn kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life, right before I went on a date with Finn?

Yeah…
that
kiss.

Which, FYI, ended up being a complete dud.  Finn couldn’t seem to move on from the fact that Roan and I are partners for that damn business project or the fact that he lives right next door to me.  As ridiculous as it sounds, Roan King wasn’t even on that date and yet he dominated the entire freaking evening.  By the end of the night, I was relieved to be dropped off at my apartment where I quickly baled from his Jeep before he could get any ideas about walking me to my door.

Plus… I couldn’t stop thinking about that sexy-as-all-hell kiss Roan laid on me.

So yeah… maybe there is a little something going on between us.  But it’s not like anything serious is going to happen because I’m not going to let it.  He wants a hook up.  I need a real relationship.  Those two things are never going to mesh.

No matter how many sparks are flying between us.

Plus, who said I even wanted a relationship with Roan?

Ummm… no one, that’s who.

Apparently everything that’s just been rolling around in my head has been flickering across my all-too-expressive face because as Lexie’s eyes hold mine, she says rather seriously, “Just be careful, Ivy.  Roan is a major player.  He’s the king of one night stands.  I’ve never seen him with the same girl more than once or twice.”

Heat floods my cheeks because I’m well aware of this.  For god’s sake, he told me himself that he doesn’t
do
relationships.  I believe the word he used was-
fluid
.  As in-
I like to keep things fluid
.  Even thinking about that comment has everything within me solidifying.  “There’s no reason for me to be careful because nothing is going on between us.”

When she finally smiles, it’s in obvious relief.  “Good.  I’m glad to hear that.  Look, Roan’s a nice guy but not boyfriend material at all.  The last thing I want to see is you get hurt again.”

I shake my head.  “I’m not going to get hurt.  Roan and I are just partners for this class.  We’re going to be spending time together on our project.  It’s nothing more than that.”  Not wanting to discuss Roan or those pictures any longer, I shoo her out of my room.  “Now go. I’m tired.  I still have forty-five minutes before I have to get up.”

Taking her computer with her, Lexie closes the door softly as she leaves.  Only when she’s gone do I release the pent up breath I’ve been holding as I flop back against my pillows.

I can’t believe people actually stalk Roan like that.  How freaking creepy is that?  And then to post pictures online for everyone to see?  Not to mention, comment upon.  Like his life is up for discussion by people who don’t even know him.  Like they can weigh in on everything he does as if their thoughts on the subject actually matter.

Yeah… that’s just plain bizarre.

Settling back against my pillows, I try closing my eyes.

At least they don’t know who I am.  I’m still anonymous in all this.  Roan is used to this kind of weird attention.  It doesn’t seem to faze him at all.  But I want no part of it. 

I’m just on the brink of falling asleep when the first text message rolls in.

Chapter Thirteen

Ladies, ladies, please… we can’t lynch this girl simply because she’s been seen a few times with the love of our lives.  Even though I kind of want to…  KingOfCampus.com

With humongous sunglasses covering my face, I keep my head angled down as I hurry to class.  My long golden brown hair cascades down my back and over my shoulders.  Anything to make me look different from the photos that have been splashed across that damn website.

All morning long I’ve been fielding text messages from friends who recognized me in the pictures posted online.  I honestly thought this whole thing would be a non-issue.  I mean, so what if I was photographed with Roan?  Who the hell really cares?  He must get photographed with girls all the time.  Right?

Wrong.

Sure.  At parties.  Around campus.  Or in groups with several grinning girls (and their monstrous boobs) in the shot.  There are tons of those kinds of pics all over the place.  But there aren’t any of him leaving a dance studio, in a smoothie shop, or at the library.  All with the same girl.

For those who stalk Roan King’s every move, this is a huge freaking deal.

And the answer to the question of
who actually gives a rat’s ass
is- practically the entire campus.  Well, the female portion of it.  Apparently, because Roan is Barnett’s very own crowned prince, that makes him public domain.  Anyone photographed with him also, by association, becomes public property to be commented upon and discussed.  Or ripped apart.  Much to my chagrin, Lexie read through all the comments.  I guess quite a few of the postings were somewhat hostile in nature.

Like I-might-actually-have-to-take-out-a-restraining-order hostile.

So, here I am, trying to make my way to class undetected.  So far, so good.  Hopefully I don’t have to worry about Roanlover565 who said she would (and I quote)
knife that bitch
if she finds out who I am.

I’m unfortunately serious.

“Ivy!”

Hurrying my step, I ignore the person calling my name.  I just want to get my classes over with and hole up in the studio for a couple of hours and pretend my life is as simple and uncomplicated as it was twenty-four short hours ago.

“Ivy!”

Finally recognizing the voice, I stop and turn as Finn quickly jogs towards me with long legged strides that eat up the distance between us.  It takes approximately fifteen seconds before we’re once again on the move.  Because of his ridiculous reaction to seeing me with Roan Saturday night, I’m hoping he hasn’t seen-

“What the hell is going on between you and King?”  Apparently this is going to be a repeat of our conversation from Saturday night.  Perfect.  Just what I need.  His brows lower over his eyes. “You said you barely knew that piece of shit.”

I almost wince at his harsh words.

Keeping my head down, I mutter, “Finn, I already told you, there’s nothing going on between us.”

Or maybe there is but it certainly isn’t going any further than it already has.  I mean… look at what’s going on now!  I can’t even leave my apartment without worrying about being knifed by some overzealous, internet stalking fangirl.

Yeah, I don’t need this kind of drama.  And I certainly don’t need Finn grilling me about the pseudo-relationship I have with Roan.

“Look, we need to talk.”

Without waiting for an answer, he wraps his fingers around my upper arm before pulling me out of the flow of student traffic.  The last thing I need is to be late for class.  That will only end up attracting even more unwanted attention.  “Finn,” exasperation simmers in my clipped tone, “I don’t have time for this right now.  I need to get to class.”

Looking pissed off, he says, “I saw the pictures posted online, Ivy.”

Behind my oversized sunglasses, one of my brows slowly rises.  He may not be able to see it but he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

His face reddens before he mutters, “Someone showed them to me.  That’s the only reason I even know about the website.”

Right…

I can’t help but sigh because this whole thing is just so ridiculous.  “Look, he gave me a ride home from work and we ended up getting smoothies.  Then we researched our project at the library.  That’s it.  End of story.  Those pictures have totally been taken out of context.”