“Are you going to tell me what that was about, or are you going to pretend there’s nothing going on between you and Triple J?”

“Can you not call him that? It’s idiotic.”

“That’s his nickname. What else am I supposed to call him?”

“His name?” Jackson is a cute moniker; I could live with that, but I’d never call him Triple J if I ran into him again. “Thanks for telling him mine, you creep.”

“He wanted to know.”

“He didn’t ask!”

“Trust me, he wanted to know.”

“Whatever.” My eyes are trained on the road ahead of us, and I hang a left after stopping at a stop sign, then another right, heading toward my small off-campus rental. It’s the perfect distance from campus—not so close that I have to see and hear the commotion during the day when classes are in session, but close enough that I can walk and it doesn’t take forever.

Plus, I’m near Jock Row. When I want to party, there’s always one nearby…

“Quit stalling.”

“There is nothing to tell, Savannah.”

“Liar. You’ve met him before, and I want the details. I’d tell you, so why aren’t you telling me?”

She’s right—she would tell me, and in great detail.

“Fine, but just so you know, it’s no big deal.”

“Right. No big deal—got it.”

Her mouth is set in a straight, serious line, but it’s her eyes that give her away. She’s excited for more information and won’t believe me when I tell her Jackson Jennings and I are never going to be a thing because Jackson Jennings and I loathe each other.

Just because he was kind of flirting with me a few minutes back doesn’t mean anything; he’s a jock, and jocks flirt. Like, I’m pretty sure it’s in their DNA and it would go against his core nature if he didn’t.

It had nothing to do with him liking me. Just so we’re clear.

Great, and now I’m talking to myself.

Awesome.

“The other night when I was coming home from the library—it was Friday—”

“You were at the library on a Friday night?”

“Are you going to keep interrupting?”

“Sorry. Go.” Savannah clamps her mouth shut and purses her lips tightly.

“So I’m coming back from the library. It must have been close to eleven? I’m not sure but a truck was behind me and had its headlights right up my ass. I could hardly see—it was dangerous. Anyway. It was him, but I didn’t realize it at the time.”

“Uh huh.” My friend is nodding, mouth still snapped shut.

“The next week I’m on campus grabbing a sandwich in the union—I was totally starving. I’m standing in line for food and all I want in this whole wide world is my damn chicken patty, right?” I give her a sidelong glance. “You know how I love those.”

She nods enthusiastically. “You do.”

“I’m about to have it in my hand and my mouth when all of a sudden, a freaking hand reaches out and takes it.”

“He just took it?”

“Yes! He took my chicken sandwich and literally shoved it in his face immediately. No manners, didn’t ask, just ate it like a wolf raised in the woods.”

“Now you’re being dramatic.”

“I’m sorry, but no. He took my food and didn’t even apologize.”

“Okay, so then what happened?”

“Then Wyatt, the guy who works there, had two burgers ready and I took those. Because the guy with four billion Js in his name wanted to nab them, too.”

“The nerve!” She’s clearly outraged on my behalf—and if she’s not, she’s doing a great job pretending to be on my side.

“Yeah, so he wants both—both of them after he just scarfed down my chicken. For real, Wyatt didn’t know what to do. He looked terrified, and Jackson isn’t even scary. Give me a break.”

“I mean, he kind of is? The guy is huge, Charlie—did you not get a good look at him? He’s like six and a half feet tall.”

“What. Ever. I was hardly checking him out.” Not even a little—not even today when he came ambling toward me in that cutoff t-shirt and faded jeans slung low on his hips.

Brown leather flip-flops. Hair blowing in the—

Ugh, stop it, Charlie! He is not your type!

“Is that the whole story?”

“No. I told him to give me ten bucks for a burger.”

“That’s extortion.”

I laugh. “That’s what he said, and I told him it was supply and demand, but then he paid for all the food and I got a free lunch. So who was the loser in that game? Not me.”

I’m on a budget; I’ll take a free meal no matter what form it comes in.

“Anyway. He goes his way, I go mine, and I didn’t think I’d see the asshat again, but I did the following Friday.”

“I’m sensing a theme here…”

“I know, right? I need to start staying home on Fridays because I can’t seem to stop running into JJ Jennings.”

“So you ran into him again last weekend?”


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