Chapter 2: Ivy

Hang onto your panties, ladies, because Roan King is kicking off the first day of the fall semester by stripping off his shirt...and yeah, it's definitely a majestic sight to behold. Is it possible that he's even more ripped and gorgeous than last year? Someone hand me a napkin, I'm starting to drool over here... KingOfCampus.com

How could I have forgotten that jet lag is a total bitch?

It should really be called ass lag or maybe even ass drag would be a more accurate description because my ass is literally dragging on the ground and it's only nine fifty in the morning.  I have a whole freaking day stretched out ahead of me.

Oh god, that thought makes me want to weep.

I want to lie down right here in the middle of campus and cry.

And no amount of highly caffeinated beverages seems to be helping with that affliction either.  I've been steadily pouring them down my throat since I pried open my blurry eyes this morning. My fingers are tightly wrapped around drink number three as we speak.

I hate to say it, but it already feels like I'm off to a crappy start. Here it is the first day of classes and I'm practically running clear across campus because I'm late.  Why exactly did I think packing up my entire life in France and traveling home the day before fall semester started was such a brilliant idea?

Oh, that's right...I had wanted to squeeze every single moment I possibly could out of Paris.  Which, come on, you can't blame me for. Because of that, I'd spent all of yesterday unpacking and organizing.  Basically running around like a chicken with my head cut off before collapsing onto my lovely double sized bed at midnight. Then I'd slept for eight solid hours.

Yeah. Eight blissful, dead-to-the-world hours.

And I'm still dragging like I haven't slept a single wink.

Hauling my ass out of bed this morning had been a monumental accomplishment on my part. I'd wanted to pick up my books at the campus bookstore before they ran out which actually happened to me freshman year. Unfortunately, the line at the bookstore had been way longer than I'd anticipated which has now made me late for my ten o'clock Business Ethics class.

I can't believe what a bunch of freaking procrastinators go to this school!

I, on the other hand, have a completely legitimate reason for waiting until the last minute to get my books. Okay, fine. I could have technically ordered them online. But I hadn't wanted to think about Barnett until absolutely forced to.  Thinking about Barnett meant I had to accept the life I'd created in Paris would be coming to a screeching halt.

So now here I am, trying to hustle my way across campus.

In dire need of something to pull me out of this mental fog, I hoist the Frappuccino to my lips. Instead of giving me a much-needed jolt of energy, it makes me feel even more jittery than I already am.  My sunglasses are sitting on the bridge of my nose, shielding my eyes from the overly harsh sunshine that I would be all but basking in on any other given day.  My super-sized iced coffee is in one hand while my phone is in the other because it keeps pinging with incoming messages.  My bag is slung across my chest. As I move along the wide sidewalk toward Adler Hall, it feels as if I'm fighting exhaustion with every step I take.     

I honestly don't know how I'm going to make it through an entire day like this without falling into some kind of narcoleptic state.  My eyelids are on the verge of drooping when I crash into a hard body.  Instinctively, I clutch my phone in one hand as my half-filled coffee gets dumped all over the person who has the misfortune to end up colliding with me.

I may not have been fully awake before this unexpected collision, but I certainly am now. My mouth falls open in shock and a fair amount of horror as I watch icy brown droplets course their way down a male T-shirt covered chest.

"Oh my god," I finally squeak. I'm all but dying of mortification as hot licks of embarrassment set fire to my normally pale cheeks. "I'm so sorry."  Now would be a perfect time for the sidewalk to crack open and swallow me whole.

Yup, right now.

Right now, damn it.

What makes matters worse is that he has yet to utter a single word.  The last thing I want to do is force my gaze up and make eye contact. At this very moment, I'm desperately racking my brain for an exit strategy. Like sprinting away from the humiliating mess I've caused in the middle of campus.  I hear people laughing in the background.  It's like the dull roar of an ocean filling my ears.

Just when I think I might die of total shame, a deep voice rumbles, "I generally enjoy when a girl soaks me, but not like this."

I have to shake my head as his words slowly filter their way through my brain.

Wait a minute...

Did he...did he seriously just say that?

I have to be imagining the innuendo, right?

Embarrassed or not, my head whips up as my widened gaze snaps to his.

Inhaling a sharp breath, it gets stuck in my throat before I pretty much swallow my tongue. If I hadn't been stunned into silence by the whole god-awful predicament playing out, that face would have done me in because the guy standing before me is absolutely gorgeous. He makes Lexie's boyfriend, Dylan, look like some hideous troll in need of a bridge to hide under.

He's got tousled black hair and the most vibrant turquoise-colored eyes I've ever seen.  Frozen in place, I'm powerless to look away. As I continue studying the unique hue of his eyes, I realize they hold a knowing smirk. I can't help but notice that his lashes are long and thick enough to make any woman gnash her teeth in jealousy.  High cheek bones and beautiful full lips complete the picture.

Even though I'm finding it rather difficult to look away from his stunning face, my gaze falls to his wide, strapping chest which is highlighted rather nicely by an incredibly tight fitting red cotton T-shirt that hugs him in all the right places.

As if this guy has any wrong places...

Because, trust me, he doesn't.

I'm seriously starting to feel lightheaded over here.  Like I need to sit down and put my head between my knees so I can breathe through this whole ordeal. That's when I notice the huge brown stain marring that perfectly chiseled chest.  His jeans, which seem to be riding rather low on his lean hips, are also dripping with my chilled coffee.

This feels like one of those horrendous, first-day-of-school nightmares that people jolt awake from in an icy cold sweat.  Then, once they realize it's nothing more than a terrible dream, they fall against their pillows in relief.

Except this is actually happening to me.

Which makes it a thousand times worse.

I'm about to open my mouth and stutter out yet another lame apology, when I hear, "Hey, King, what the hell happened to you?"

Hearing those words thankfully breaks the strange spell that has fallen over me at the sight of him as I blink my eyes a few times before giving my head a bit of a shake.  I'm hoping the movement will somehow jump start my brain into action.  That's when I realize this little incident is drawing a whole lot of unwanted attention.  Thank god I'm wearing huge sunglasses that cover my eyes and face.  Otherwise this guy would get a good look at me.

Anonymity is the only thing getting me through this moment.

"I-I...maybe I have a napkin in my bag."  Not that a napkin or Kleenex is going to do anything to clean up that drippy mess but it's the only thing I can think of.  Other than running away and never seeing this gorgeous guy again. Which is a shame.  As I slide my phone into my bag, I rummage around in it.

But it's a pit in here.  My fingers come in contact with books, a calculator, an extra pair of tights for dance class, a few hair bands (also for dance class), a pair of ballet shoes (yep, you guessed it-dance class), ChapStick, hand lotion, sanitizer, my wallet, a protein bar, pain medication, a tampon...

Apparently, I have everything except something to help clean him off.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

Well, I have to hand it to the guy, he's definitely taking this like a champ.  If someone had spilled an entire drink on me, I'd be pissed as hell.

My gaze lifts in time to see him whip off the snug fitting T-shirt leaving an amazingly bare chest in its place.  My mouth dries as my sunglass-hidden eyes widen before licking over every exquisite sun-kissed inch of him.

Oh.

My.

God.