Page 50 of Wrong For Me

Leo

Over the first week of classes, I experience a problem I’ve never really had in school before. I’m distracted. It’s something I’m not used to—the ability to keep my entire focus on work is one of my greatest strengths, and the biggest reason I’ve gotten as far as I have despite the chaos of my early life.

Right now, though, my focus is shit. It’s a huge problem—you don’t get through this program without one hundred percent commitment. The source of that problem? Rose Ransome.

She seems to be every damn place I go. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to me that we would not only be working together on TA stuff—we also have a majority of our classes together. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise. We’re both in doctorate level psychology classes, logic would indicate there’s going to be some overlap. But there’s something about Rose Ransome that seems to prevent me from logical thinking.

So not only do I have to see her in Hernandez’s section the first morning, I also see her in my afternoon Quantitative Research course. And again the following morning in Advanced Stats. And in two more classes over the course of the first week.

And our office. Jesus. She’s always in the fucking office. Which again, makes total sense. Our schedules are obviously very similar. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

On Friday, I finally think I’m going to get some peace. My classes wrap up by eleven so I know I won’t be running into her in yet another classroom this afternoon. We don’t have anything scheduled on the TA side either—no study sessions or meetings with our advisor.

With how busy I’ve been the first week, I haven’t managed to think much about the Williamson Fellowship application. I’m looking forward to holing up in my office and—

“Are you kidding me?” I mutter when I walk through the door to see Rose huddled over her desk. “Don’t you ever go home?”

She raises an eyebrow. “I could say the same about you. Actually—why are you here? I thought you were done for the day.”

That has me forgetting my annoyance at seeing her for a moment. I can’t miss out on the opportunity to tease this girl. “How do you know if I’m done for the day? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized my course schedule?”

Her cheeks pink up a little but she manages a haughty expression. “You left your day planner on the table,” she shoots back, waving a hand at the small work space wedged into the corner of the room. “I looked at it without knowing what it was.”

“Sure you did.” I hold her gaze until her cheeks darken even more. “You’re keeping tabs on me, admit it.”

She rolls her eyes. “If I am, it’s just so I can try to avoid situations likethis.” She gestures at the bag of carry-out she had just started to unload on her desk. “I was looking forward to a quiet lunch, free from churlish assholes.”

I have to bite my cheek to keep from smiling at that. I shouldn’t find it so amusing when she calls me a churlish asshole. It’s just that she gets this expression on her face when she’s annoyed with me, her eyes all wide and flashing with irritation. It’s really fucking cute, if I’m being honest.

Not helping,I remind myself.

“Why do you want to eat all alone in here? Wouldn’t you rather go eat with your friends?”

Just like that, her entire demeanor changes, shoulders drawing up to her ears while her expression turns almost blank. “I don’t have friends at this school,” she mutters, carefully avoiding making eye contact.

I frown. “Bullshit. I saw you surrounded by girls on the quad yesterday afternoon.”

Her voice is nearly whisper soft. “Those girls aren’t my friends.”

“But—”

Her expression shifts again, eyebrow arching as she cuts me off. “Though now that you mention it, it kind of sounds likeyou’rethe one keeping tabs onme.”

That brings me up short. “What?”

She smirks at me. “Why were you watching me walk through the quad, Leo? Are you following me?”

Of course I’d been watching her walk through the quad. Because it isn’t just the classrooms and the office where she’s haunting me—no, my pathetic ass can’t seem to stop from picking out that damn blond hair all over campus. It’s annoying as fuck.

“Why don’t you go take your lunch elsewhere?” From the smug tone of her voice she knows she has me. “I’m sure a friendly, affable guy like you must have dozens of pals on this campus who would love to share a meal with you.”

For a long moment, we hold each other’s gaze, me scowling while Rose smirks. Then, at the same moment, we both crack up.

“God,” she gasps, face screwed up in mirth. “I could hardly get that out with a straight face.”

“Friendly and affable are not descriptors I hear about myself very often.”

“Oh, I can’t imagine why not,” she says, voice bleeding sarcasm.