Wait For You, Trust in Me: 2-Book Collection. J. Lynn

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      Blue Eyes’ gaze dropped to the slip of paper in his hand. “Avery Morgansten?”

      My heart jumped. “How do you know my name?”

      He cocked his head to the side as the smile inched wider. “It’s on your schedule.”

      “Oh.” I pushed the wavy strands of hair back from my hot face. He handed my schedule back, and I took it, slipping it into my bag. A whole lot of awkward descended as I fumbled with my strap.

      “My name is Cameron Hamilton,” Blue Eyes said. “But everyone calls me Cam.”

      Cam. I rolled the name around, liking it. “Thank you again, Cam.”

      He bent over and picked up a black backpack I hadn’t noticed. Several locks of dark hair fell over his forehead and as he straightened, he brushed them away. “Well, let’s make our grand entrance.”

      My feet were rooted to the spot where I stood as he turned and strolled the couple of feet to the closed door to room 205. He reached for the handle, looking over his shoulder, waiting.

      I couldn’t do it. It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I plowed into what was possibly the sexiest guy on campus. I couldn’t walk into the class and have everybody turn and stare. I’d had enough of being the center of attention everywhere I went for the last five years. Sweat broke out and dotted my forehead. My stomach tightened as I took a step back, away from the classroom and Cam.

      He turned, brows knitted as a curious expression settled on his striking face. “You’re going in the wrong direction, sweetheart.”

      I’d been going in the wrong direction half my life it seemed. “I can’t.”

      “Can’t what?” He took a step toward me.

      And I bolted. I actually spun around and ran like I was in a race for the last cup of coffee in the world. As I made it to those damn double doors, I heard him call out my name, but I kept going.

      My face was flaming as I hurried down the stairs. I was out of breath as I burst out of the science building. My legs kept moving until I sat down on a bench outside of the adjacent library. The early morning sun seemed too bright as I lifted my head and squeezed my eyes shut.

      Geez.

      What a way to make a first impression in a new city, new school… new life. I moved over a thousand miles to start over and I already mucked it up in a matter of minutes.

Chapter 2

      I had two options at this point: let go and move on from my disastrous attempt to attend my first class of my college career or go home, climb into bed, and pull the covers over my head. I so wanted to indulge in the second option, but that wasn’t me.

      If running and hiding was my MO, I would’ve never survived high school.

      Reaching down, I checked the wide, silver bracelet on my left wrist, making sure it was in place. I almost didn’t survive high school.

      Mom and Dad had pitched a fit when I’d informed them of my plans to attend a university clear across the country. If it had been Harvard, Yale, or Sweet Briar, they would have been all about it then. But a non-ivy league university? For shame. They just didn’t understand. They never did. There was no way in holy hell I was going to attend the college they had gone to or enroll where half the country club back home forced their kids to attend.

      I wanted to go where I wouldn’t see a familiar sneer or hear the whispers that still dripped from people’s lips like acid. Where people hadn’t heard the story or whatever version of the truth that had been repeated over and over again; until sometimes I questioned what really had happened Halloween night five years ago.

      None of them mattered here, though. No one knew me. No one suspected anything. And no one knew what the bracelet hid on summer days when a long sleeve shirt wouldn’t work.

      Coming here had been my decision and it had been the right thing to do.

      My parents had threatened to cut off my trust fund, which I’d found hilarious. I had my own money—money they had no control over once I turned eighteen. Money I had earned. To them, I had let them down yet again, but if I stayed in Texas or around any of those people, I would be dead.

      Glancing at the time on my cell phone, I pushed to my feet and slung my bag over my shoulder. At least I wouldn’t be late to my history class.

      History was in the social sciences building, at the bottom of the hill I had just raced up. I cut through the parking lot behind the Byrd building and crossed the congested street. All around me students walked in groups of two or larger, many obviously knew each other. Instead of feeling left out, there was a precious sense of freedom in walking to class without being recognized.

      Pushing my epic fail of a morning out of the way, I entered Whitehall and took the first set of steps to the right. The hallway upstairs was crowded with students waiting for the rooms to empty. I threaded through the laughing groups, dodging some who still looked half asleep. Finding an empty spot across from my classroom, I sat down against the wall and crossed my legs. I ran my hands over my jeans, excited to be starting history. Most people would be bored to tears in History 101, but it was my first class in my major.

      And if I got lucky, five years from now, I’d be working in a silent and cool museum or library, cataloguing ancient texts or artifacts. Not the most glamorous of professions, but it would be perfect for me.

      Better than what I used to want to be, which was a professional dancer in New York.

      Yet another thing Mom had to be disappointed over. All that money thrown at ballet lessons since I was old enough to walk was wasted after I turned fourteen.

      I did miss it though, the calming effect dancing had brought on. I just couldn’t bring myself to ever do it again.

      “Girl, what are you doing sitting on the floor?”

      My head jerked up and a smile broke out across my face when I saw the wide, bright smile stretching across the caramel tone of Jacob Massey’s boyishly, handsome face. We’d buddied up during freshman orientation last week and he was in my next class, plus art on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’d immediately warmed to his outgoing personality.

      I glanced at the expensive looking jeans he wore, recognizing the tailored cut. “It’s comfortable down here. You should join me.”

      “Hell no. I don’t want my fine ass to be tainted by sitting on that floor.” He propped a hip against the wall beside me and grinned. “Wait. What are you doing here already? I thought you had a class at nine.”

      “You remember that?” We’d exchanged schedules for like a half a second last week.

      He winked. “I have a frightening memory for things that are virtually useless to me.”

      I laughed. “Good to know.”

      “So did you skip already? You bad, bad girl.”

      Wincing, I СКАЧАТЬ