I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”
“The Sigma party. I looked for you when I was done playing pool, but you were already gone.”
Oh my God. He was looking for me?
“Yeah, I left early,” I answer, hoping I sound equally casual. “I had a nine o’clock class the next morning.”
Justin slants his head. “I heard you left with Garrett Graham.”
That catches me off guard. I hadn’t thought anyone saw Garrett and me leave together, but clearly I was wrong. And apparently word travels faster than the speed of light at Briar.
“He gave me a ride home,” I reply with a shrug.
“Oh. I didn’t know you guys were friends.”
I smile impishly. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Holy shit. I’m flirting with him.
He smiles too, and the sexiest dimple I’ve ever seen appears in his chin. “I guess you’re right.” He pauses meaningfully. “Maybe we ought to change that.”
Holy shit. He’s flirting back.
And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m starting to think Garrett’s hard-to-get theory actually holds water. Justin seems curiously fixated on the fact that I left the party with Garrett.
“So…” His eyes twinkle playfully. “What are you doing after cla—”
“Wellsy!”
I swallow a groan at the cheerful interruption from—who else—Garrett. A slight frown touches Justin’s lips as Garrett strides up to us, but then he smiles and nods at the unwelcome intruder.
Garrett holds two foam cups in his hands, and he thrusts one at me with a grin. “Got you a coffee. I figured you might need it.”
I don’t miss the strange look Justin shoots in our direction, or the flicker of displeasure in his eyes, but I gratefully accept the cup and pop the lid, blowing on the hot liquid before taking a tiny sip. “You’re a lifesaver,” I breathe.
Garrett nods at Justin. “Kohl,” he says in greeting.
The two of them exchange a manly hand slap type of thing, not a shake, but not quite a fist bump either.
“Graham,” Justin says. “I heard you handed St. Anthony’s asses to them this weekend. Nice win.”
“Thanks.” Garrett chuckles. “I heard you got your ass handed to you against Brown. Bummer.”
“There goes our perfect season, huh?” Justin says ruefully.
Garrett shrugs. “You guys’ll bounce back. Maxwell’s arm is ridiculous.”
“Tell me about it.”
Since I rate sports talk on the same level of boring as politics and gardening, I take a step toward the door. “I’m heading in. Thanks for the coffee, Garrett.”
My pulse continues to race as I enter the lecture hall. It’s funny, but my life suddenly seems to be moving at lightning speed. Before the Sigma party, the most contact I had with Justin was one measly nod from ten feet away—and that was over a two-month span. Now, in less than a week, we’ve had two conversations, and either I was imagining it, or he was about to ask me out before Garrett interrupted.
I slide into my usual seat next to Nell, who greets me with a smile. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey.” I unzip my bag and grab a notebook and pen. “How was your weekend?”
“Brutal. I had a huge chem test this morning, and I pulled an all-nighter to study for it.”
“How’d you do?”