“Oh my gosh. Sorry I’m late.”
I looked over my shoulder to find a red-faced and wild-haired Roxy come blowing into my office. In a blur, she dumped her backpack and coat on a corner chair, and set up her laptop on a flimsy little table I’d pulled out of storage.
“Don’t worry about it, darlin’.”
I hoped my voice wasn’t tight. It wasn’t that it was a problem for her to arrive late. She’d texted me that her last class went over time. What I was preoccupied with, but desperate to keep to myself, was the building tension around will she or won’t she?
Yeah. I couldn’t lie. Her self-imposed ‘trial period’ was killing me, and I was so enjoying having her around—for a variety of reasons—I found myself really hoping she’d stay.
Of course, it was completely her choice, and I’d support whatever direction she wanted to go in. But I knew what I wanted. I knew what the guys wanted.
Shit, we’d discussed it late into the night when she was asleep.
It was cool we were all attracted to her. It made sense. We were good friends, and valued similar things. I never thought I might be sharing a woman with these guys, but after I’d gotten used to the idea, I’d realized it was hot as fuck.
Catching her breath, she turned to me from her makeshift work area. “Should I continue on the presentation for next week’s class? Or do you need me to do something else?”
Get a grip asshole.
“The presentation would be great. Thank you,” I said, turning back to my own computer before I lost the battle to keep my thoughts clean and my hands to myself.
There she was, a regular college girl. But she was so much more than that. I loved her drive, and her ability, most of the time, to keep her chin up in the face of all that was raining down around her.
She was going to be fine. I knew she would. Things would turn a corner for her, one way or the other.
Despite my best intentions, I peeked at her anyway, watching her peck away at her keyboard, because I was such a goddamn smitten pussy. Her blonde hair nearly covered her pretty face, and her foot tapped with her overload of energy. She stopped what she was doing for a moment, and drew a finger to mouth, where she chewed on a nail. Then, in a new burst of energy, she got back to the keyboard, working like an artist struck by inspiration.
I had to say I was impressed. It was hard to get excited about making a presentation for a finance class. But Roxy was finding a way.
It was that ‘light’ that followed her, which attracted me like a moth to a flame.
I knew the other guys felt the same.
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