Free Over My Head by Wendi Zwaduk Page B

you.”
    “So lay off.” Arran stuffed the five-dollar bill into his pocket. “I’m getting a pastrami on rye. Want anything?”
    Sav flicked his hand.
    “I’ll take that as a no.” Arran rolled his eyes again and strode through the gaggle of tables towards the sub shop counter. As he crossed the room, he saw her. The girl. She sat religiously through each boring art lecture, taking notes and hazarding glances in his general area. Warmth flooded his cheeks. Few women actually looked his way. Most dismissed him long before they got to know him.
    According to their banter, Arran had a great style and a nice voice, but their conversations always worked around to whether Nate—his best friend—was seeing anyone. Some would be put off with the constant barrage of questions concerning Nate. As long as it wasn’t men asking, Arran didn’t care. He happily directed the girls into Nate’s view and sat back to watch the fireworks.
    But with this girl…he wanted to watch what could happen and not with Nate. Arran Mayes wanted the action, excitement…he wanted a girl. At least to get to know her name and find out what the fuss over women was about. Maybe get her phone number. See what made her smile…
    Whoa. He needed a good fuck, that’s what the attraction was. A bodily response to someone good-looking. He shoved the burgeoning desire aside in his mind. Focus on lunch.
    He took his place at the back of the line. What if the attraction wasn’t a lack of sex? He appraised her from afar. Nice hips. Enough to grasp during a roll in the sheets. Holy fuck . Where’d those thoughts come from? Blood flowed to his cock and he shifted his weight to relieve the pressure. Shock…yes, she had to be a shock to his system. A glitch.
    Thick blonde hair fell to the middle of her back and the fleeting scent of vanilla wafted to him. His mouth watered. Was she into hair pulling?
    He shook his head. God, biology was a bitch. Here he was thinking about sex, what to do to make her scream during sex, or whether to just walk away from her altogether. Somewhere between Art History and lunch, something had come unglued. She liked sub sandwiches and that little nugget of info stoked his interest.
    He shook his head again. Enough fantasising about things he didn’t want.
    A guy behind her struck up a conversation. “What’cha having today, Min?”
    Min. Arran tipped his head. Nice name. He strained to hear her answer. Please let her be one of those girls who ate, not picked at food.
    “Pastrami. Same old, same old.”
    Arran chuckled. Simple. He liked simple and wonderful…men. He forked his fingers into his hair. The feelings weren’t dissipating. Damn it. He liked guys, so why her and why now? He tore his attention from Min and glanced in Sav’s direction. He lusted after men—dark men, brooding men. Guys like Nate and Sav. Not women. He loved the feel of a man’s pecs and pebbled nipples crushed against his chest, not the pillow of women’s breasts. Fuck, he’d never even dated a girl.
    The scent of vanilla swirled around him. Arran turned as Min strolled past, sandwich in hand. His mouth watered. For the pastrami or her? His brain whirled with confusion and glee. He had to talk to her and get to know the vixen of Art History. As strange as it felt to be intrigued by her, it also seemed…oddly okay. He forfeited his place in line and followed her to her table.
    “Hello. Min, is it? I’m Arran. I wondered if I might sit with you?”
    Her eyes widened as she stared at him. Her lips parted and crimson infused her cheeks. She waved her hand at the empty seat.
    Arran sank down beside her. Instead of the apprehension he always felt when dealing with women—especially attractive women—a calm settled around him. Strange.
    “What can I do for you?” She offered her hand. “My name’s Mindy, by the way. Phillip thinks I like being called Min. He’s…Phillip.”
    Mindy. The name suited her. “Mindy. We’re in the same Art