Okay.

I can do this.

I'm on my fifth attempt trying to French braid my hair. My fingers mingle through my puffy waves trying their best to finish a pretty side braid. By the time I'm done...

It's a mess.

I have a lot of dark blonde hair, like one big frizz ball, and it's difficult to manage. But that is not what I'm lecturing myself about.

As I tie a band around the end of the braid, not wanting to go for a sixth attempt, Tariq's jacket catches my one good eye. I had hung it up on my door after cleaning it last night when he had brought me back. I'm planning on dropping it off at his place once I'm done with my back-to-back classes.

Looking back at the mirror, I touch my eye. It's swollen and completely closed shut. The glued cut underneath is shiny from the adhesive and puffed up like a big magenta bubble with yellow discoloration surrounding it.

All in all, I look like I had been socked in the face...

By a football.

At the hospital all they did was glue my slice shut, which burned like a mother. Tariq drove me home then went straight back to stay with Ben.

Poor kid had to get his stomach pumped.

I don't know what bad blood is between the hockey team and the Alpha Tau Sigma but it's clearly toxic. From what I could gather from Tariq and Beau's conversations, Colin had invited Ben, who's a rookie, to purposely get him hammered.

Why?

No idea.

"I still would like to know how you got that black eye?" My roommate lays in her bed with her massive headphones sitting on her pillow no longer listening to music. We get along fine but we're very different people.

Our room is a symbol of that.

My side is neat and tidy while hers is a consolidated mess with her clothes piled in a big duffle bag like a mountain. She has yet to unpack all her clothes and opted for fishing them out of her bag instead.

"Does it look bad?" I ask, feeling a little self-conscience as I try fixing my thick bangs over it. At least there's one good thing about their ridiculous length.

She raises a brow. "Uh, yes. Definitely wear your glasses today." She examines me further from her spot. "You should try using some concealer or some form of makeup too."

I am wearing makeup.

I look back at myself thinking no amount of concealer would cover this thing up, but my glasses might help. I go over and slide them on, knowing I would need them today anyway since there is no way I'm shoving a contact into my eye.

"Also" she continues, "you could spice up your church girl outfit to draw attention away from it."

I glance down at my wardrobe. "What's wrong with my outfit?"

"Nothing if you're heading to mass," She states. "You should show more skin. Get your legs out of those leggings and wear a dress that's not buttoned up all the way to your neck. Cleavage will be your best friend in this predicament and you're not that small. With a pushup you may get some."

"I don't think I have a dress like that."

She rolls her eyes muttering, "You own more knee-length dresses and slouchy sweaters than a normal girl should."

My hair bristles on my arms. Part of my conservative attire is because of how I was raised, but a huge reason is that I have scoliosis and one of my sides goes in more than the other and one of my legs is slightly longer.

It isn't super noticeable, but I notice it. I look like I have a muffin top on one side. I also don't like my pasty legs, so I wear leggings or tights.

"Thanks for the advice but this is more comfortable," I mumble out my lame excuse and grab my backpack.

She snorts. "At least wear a chunky scarf or something. That way you can do that thing you do. You know, where you bury your face into it to hide."

I slip on my ankle boots and because it's going to be chilly today, I pull out my favorite big comfy cable knit sweater.

"Oh, Gosh! Not the beige sweater."

"What?" I retort a little harshly because I'm starting to get irritated.

Tracy rolls her eyes. "It's too big for you. It will literally swallow you up and make your already little legs look like chicken legs. What's even the point of wearing the dress?"

"Because when I get to class, I take it off."

She throws her hands up in the air. "Wear a cute jacket instead." Tracy slices her hand through the air. "You know what? It's not worth it. You won't listen to me anyway."

I prickle up like a porcupine.

She doesn't have to be so rude about it. I bite my tongue because I have no idea how to retort as she puts her headphones back on and shuts me out.

I'm the type that after walking away from the confrontation fifteen minutes later I come up with a whole dialogue I should've said. Then I rehearse it in my brain over and over again.

But I never end up saying any of it.

I drop my backpack and yank my sweater over my head and it falls right above the hem of my dress. I fist the sleeves as I hoist my bag back onto my shoulder and pull a scarf out of my dresser and twirl it around my neck.

Today is the first day of classes and I'm ready to be doing what I came to this place to do... learn. I want to get away from Tracy and to my safe haven.

Class.

To sit in a seat and type out notes with no worries about anything but what I'm learning. Not that I'm one of those genius scholarship students. I don't even have one. I have to work really hard for my grades but I love being in a classroom which is one of the reasons why I want to become a teacher.

I blow my thick bangs up and a knock makes me jump. I glance back at an oblivious Tracy who lays on her flat tummy bouncing her head to the music and moving her lips silently. She's really pretty with long black hair that's glossy and curled at the ends. Her red long-sleeved shirt is tight with a V-neck that shows off her plump chest.

Something I don't have.

Her jeans fit her perfectly and her shirt rides up revealing her toned stomach. She runs every morning.

Religiously.

I walk over to Tracy and slide her headphones off.

"Hey!" she protests. "Look I'm sorry if I was a little fresh."

"Are you expecting someone?" I ask, ignoring her apology because I don't need it.

She shakes her head no and snatches her headphones back. I go to open the door and pause in shock. Tracy gasps behind me as I stand with my hand on the door staring with my mouth gaping.

Long limbs stretched out, t-shirt snugged against rippling muscles and a broad beefy shoulder casually leaning against my doorframe. His scruff is rougher today and his lips fuller than I remember.

And those eyes.

They're so dark and smoldering it makes me visibly shudder.

"Uh."

I've never had such a hard time conversing with someone in my life. My communication with the opposite sex has been normal. But with Tariq standing in front of me, it's like I've never talked with a guy before.

You had a boyfriend. So, what if you can't remember his name, let alone what he looked like?

Tariq's hand is shoved in his pocket making his jeans sit low on his hips even with a belt. He raises a brow lifting a plastic bag that I hadn't noticed.

"They were out of strawberry. I hope you like peach."

All I can do is stare like an idiot.

"Blue?" he asks. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah, yes, sorry." I open the door wide and motion him in like he's the royal prince.

Smirking, his strong jaw flexes as he pushes off the doorway sauntering in. He seems more relaxed and easygoing than last night. He hands me the bag and then surprises me even more by taking my chin lifting it up. He grabs my glasses and slides them off making my skin tingle in retaliation. I have to focus really hard at keeping my breath nice and steady and the heat from overtaking my face.

From my peripherals, Tracy jerks up off her bed and runs her fingers through her long hair. Her green eyes are practically popping out as she mouths oh my god a thousand times. She dives over to her desk that's right next to her bed and snatches up her favorite Chapstick that has a tint of red to it. She puts it on while staring at Tariq with unabashed astonishment.

"How's it feeling cause it looks terrible?" He swipes his thumb under my slice then I step out of his magnetic hold.

"Um, it's better." I awkwardly take my glasses from him, putting them back on.

His hand falls to his side then he shoves both of them in his pockets. "Where are you headed?"

"Um." I need a distraction.

Maybe that would help me remember how to hold a normal conversation and not gawk at him. I trip over to the plastic bag of yogurt and start throwing them in my minifridge.

"Class. You really didn't have to do this." My sentences are choppy, and I start to ramble. "Thank you though. This was my breakfast for the next couple of weeks."

"That tiny thing of yogurt?" His breath is on my ear, and I jump not realizing he had been right behind me.

I glance over at Tracy who's ogling Tariq.

Good to know I'm not the only girl nervous around him.

I keep one hugging it to my chest and snatch a spoon from my stash on top of my fridge. "Mhm. It's plenty," I sing out.

When I turn to look at him his eyes quickly look back up at mine and I wonder what he had been looking at exactly. With stretched out legs and his arms crossed, he sits on my desk watching me, making my heart hammer.

Had he been watching me like that the whole time?

My face burns when I realize I had been bent over with my butt most likely staring right at him. Those eyes shamelessly stroll down my figure from head to toe. I flush wondering if my outfit had been a good idea for today.

Dang, it!

Maybe I should've listened to Tracy.

But I don't own anything tight in my wardrobe. Like she had said, I pretty much have all dresses and slouchy, oversized shirts for my little body.

I pull on the hem of my flowy dress that pokes out from underneath my sweater. The dress is dark blue with flowers and short-sleeved, which is why I paired it with my sweater.

"It's cold and windy," he says as his eyes go from examining me to my dorm room. He scratches at his beanie, and I get a peek of thick black hair for a second.

"Oh." I start twirling the hem of my dress around my forefinger. I could put on some jeans, but I only own one pair and my stomach and sides tend to puff out a little.

So, no.

Not doing that.

"You'll need more than a sweater," he remarks with a surly frown.

"I'm Tracy." My roommate interrupts with a shout, sliding off her bed in a way that accentuates her long figure. She hooks her thumbs in her jeans loops and straightens her posture making her boobs stick out.

He goes to answer but she stops him. "Tariq Araneo." She slides her arm around his as his eyes look at her hold then back up at her. "I've been to some of your games. I'm so sorry about your injury. Any chance you'll get to play again?"

He peels her off of him. "Not sure yet."

His eyes go from Tracy to his jacket. He pushes off his perch from my desk and strides over, taking his jacket off the hanger. Before I know it, he takes my backpack from me, throws his jacket over my shoulders and puts his hand right at my muffin side.

All in the span of a couple blinks of my eyelid.

"Nice meeting you, Tracy."

When he turns around Tracy glowers at me mouthing we have to talk as I'm gently pushed out of my room by Tariq. He shuts the door behind us, and we're met with every single dorm neighbor of mine poking their heads out of their rooms watching us. I bury my face into my scarf.

Heather comes out of hers with her friend Lana, who I had met the first day because she was helping Heather out. She's a tall leggy redhead who's drop-dead gorgeous with that high end fashion look like Heather.

"Tariq?" Lana squeaks.

Heather glances up and smiles. "Oh hey! I see you found her room okay."

"Yeah, thanks for letting me in," Tariq says all the while his hand is still resting on the hip I loathe.

Lana is all too aware of it too.

Heather's eyes turn to me, and her smile thins out. "Oh, El! Your eye. How are you feeling? Do you need any pain relievers? I have some Motrin."

I push my glasses up a bit and pull my scarf down from my mouth. "Thanks, but I took some this morning. It looks worse than it is."

Lana's light green eyes narrow at me as she asks Tariq, "Is she wearing your jacket?"

Heather only smiles. "She looks cute in it. We should be heading to class though. Hey, El, would you like to sit with us at lunch?"

I only had three meals a week because the meal plan here is expensive. I didn't want to be rude though and Heather is nothing short of sweet and someone I can become friends with.

"Sure," I say as I go back to my scarf cave.

"Seriously?" Lana spits out and I widen my eyes at her objection. "What are you girls doing out here all of a sudden?"

I relax when I realize Lana hadn't been irritated with Heather's offer, but with all the girls coming out of their dorm rooms. Tariq, Heather, and I glance around as almost all the girls have come out of their rooms, acting as if they're busy doing homework or chatting with neighbors, but their eyes drifting toward Tariq tells me otherwise.

Some girls scamper back to their rooms while bolder ones lock heated glares with Lana.

These freshmen have some real confidence.

I would never face down Lana.

It's weird being in a freshmen dorm but I had been late with finding a spot to live on campus, so I'm stuck here.

Not that it's bad.

"What's your problem?" One girl retorts and then looks over at Tariq under long lashes with the same eyes Tracy had earlier.

Lana is about to bite back but Heather starts yanking her toward the door. "We're going to be late."

The girl who snapped at Lana steps forward, tucking a short strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, sticking her hand out to Tariq. "Hi, I'm Rachel."

This time Tariq doesn't do any greeting but instead encases my hand in his big one pulling me toward the door out to the foyer. "Sorry, Rach, I've got to get Blue here to class before she's late."

His hand is big, easily overtaking mine and my skin reacts as those callous scratch me a little. He probably developed them from years of playing hockey. His hand's strong, sturdy, and overwhelming my tiny one.

The second we step outside we're hit by a huge gust of wind. I clutch at my dress to stop it from flying up. I borrow my face in my scarf, my vision obscured by my bangs being whipped savagely against my forehead.

It's a good thing I didn't end up going for the sixth attempt with my braid.

"Told you," Tariq replies coolly.

He pulls me close to him and blocks some of the harsh wind for me with his massive body. His black long-sleeved shirt flows with the wind and I catch that strong sweet yet spicy smell coming from him. It's one of those you can't figure out. But whatever it is, it almost clears my sinuses.

We rush over to his Jeep that's caked in mud along with the massive tires. Tariq opens the passenger door and helps me up. I buckle the seat belt as he jumps in and starts his Jeep pulling away from the dorm.

"Where's your class?"

"The Poling Center."

He looks over at me. "Heather told me you're a sophomore. You pick a major yet?"

He asked about me!

What is happening?

"Yeah, um, Early Education. I want to teach in an elementary school. Possibly become a principal. That's my dream job."

Yay!

I found my footing in the art of conversation.

He fights a smile. "That's right, you mentioned that last night in your tirade before you got a football to the face."

I turn a little to face him. "How's Ben?"

He tenses. "Better."

Figuring that short answer meant to change the subject, I comply. "What about you? I'm guessing you're a junior or senior."

"Senior and Kinesiology. Aiming to be a Physical Therapist."

"What made you want to become one?"

He glances at me, his eyes especially dark underneath those long black lashes. I tighten his jacket around me. His eyes don't miss the action and then go back to the road.

"I tore my ACL and the therapist I work with has helped me a lot." He shrugs. "Just made sense since I didn't have a major picked. And since my NHL career might be over, I need something to fall back on."

Tension rolls off his shoulders. Apparently, this subject is touchy.

Okay, time for another subject change.

"Thanks for driving me."

He looks over at me with serious eyes that I finally notice have tired lines around them. His gaze goes back to the road and his hand tightens around the steering wheel. "Look, I'm going to be upfront. I think you should go to the dean and tell him what happened last night."

"No way. I'm not about to make all of Greek Row, and possibly the whole campus, my enemy for tattling. Is that why you're being so nice to me?"

He's quiet and something drops hard in my stomach and my shoulders sag. "I would be hated. It wasn't that big of a deal. I just have a black eye. Ben should be the one to go."

Tariq looks almost guilty. "I also wanted to make sure you were okay. That football hit you hard and nearly gave me a heart attack. As for Ben, if he goes to the dean, he'd be the one punished and suspended."

"I guess I get that but if what the frat did is true, the dean should know about it. I've heard the rumors and..."

My mouth clamps shut because of Tariq's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "You have no idea, sweetheart. The things they get away with."

He doesn't continue.

The air is tense and awkward now, prickling at my skin with unease. "You can drop me off here if you'd like. I'm okay, really."

He cocks a bold brow. "Here's the thing, Blue, you're the type a guy can't help but worry about."

My brows pinch at that. "What's that supposed to mean?"

A smirk danced across his perfectly chiseled face. "Nothing."

I open my mouth to retort but stop when he turns right, and my class building comes into view.

"Thanks again," I mumble grabbing my backpack as he pulls up.

"Blue?" My head swivels over to him. "Think about it will ya? I get what you're saying but you'd have me and the hockey team behind you. If you come forward it'd give our case the extra boost it needs."

I mull it over while staring at him. His shirt shows off every beautifully etched muscle. My eyes go to his tattooed hand that's gripping the steering wheel, which is of a hand holding the nail that's about to pierce Jesus's flesh.

And heavens, his lips, surrounded by that dark scruff.

When he notices my stare his smoldering eyes darken a little then glint with some kind of mischief. "You better stop looking at me like that. I may do something about it."