Free One Northern Morning (A Novella) (Southern Nights Novella Series #2) by Marissa Carmel Page B

flesh.” I smile brazenly.
    “Nope, you’re right about that.” She points to my neck.
    “What?” I place my hand on the skin.
    “Bite mark.”
    “Oh.” I chuckle.
    “Same old Kam,” she remarks as the professor writes his name on the whiteboard in front of us. He’s very young, maybe mid-thirties, but dressed like a twenty-something frat boy—plaid polo, cargo shorts, and flip-flops. This class is going to be cake.
    I sneak glances at Laney as we go over the syllabus. She looks older, more mature, but some attributes are still exactly the same—long silky legs, a plump, pouty mouth, and a perky rack. She’s still sexy as hell and as tempting as sin.
    I try not to think about how her exotic perfume affects me as the professor glosses over each bullet point. It seems like he’s more eager for this class to be over than the students are.
    At the forty-five minute mark, he calls it.
    “Next week, have chapters one through three read and prepare to participate. Dismissed.”
    I walk next to Laney as we slowly exit the room. “Partners for the final project?” I ask her.
    She shrugs, considering. “Sure, why not. We can just report on you.”
    “An interview?” I beam.
    “I know how much you like to hear yourself talk,” she digs lightly.
    “Wear a skirt for the Q&A. I like legs, too,” I banter back.
    “Kam!” She smacks me on the stomach just as a guy with glasses and both hands gripping the straps of his backpack walks up to us. He doesn’t look happy.
    “Hey.” He snakes his arm around Laney’s waist possessively and stares me down. Is this guy for real?
    “Hey.” She smiles up at him. “Steve, this is Kam.”
    “Yeah, I know who he is. Mr. Big Shot Quarterback,” he says, standoffish. He has an accent sort of like Laney’s. He’s definitely not from around here. “Ready to get out of here, Lay?”
    “Lay?” I curl my lip. That’s the worst nickname ever.
    Steve glares. I just eye him up like the dufus he is. Is she seriously with this guy?
    “See you next week, Kam.” Laney sighs melodramatically.
    I lean forward, encroaching on her personal space just to fuck with Steve. “Later, Lemon,” I rasp, winking arrogantly, then walk away.

F ucking. Kam.
    He would stroll into the only, one credit BS class I have ever taken. If it wasn’t for a four-credit independent study I took last semester, my credits wouldn’t be all messed up, and I wouldn’t have had to sign up for sports broadcasting on Friday freaking morning . Now, I get to spend the next three months with Kam and his inflated ego— and his gorgeous eyes and sexy mouth and arsenal of Southern charm.
    “Laney?” Steve says my name flatly.
    “Huh?” I look up from my coffee cup.
    “Daydreaming about your ex?”
    “What?” I respond defensively. “Of course not.” Liar!
    “Did you know he was in that class?”
    “I had no idea. Although, now that I think about it, Kam is a communications major.”
    “Appropriate, seeing how he didn’t have a problem communicating with you.”
    “Yeah, well, that’s Kam. He’s never had a problem communicating with women.”
    “Just as long as he doesn’t try to communicate too closely, we won’t have any issues.”
    I actually laugh. Steve’s green-eyed monster doesn’t rear its ugly head often. But don’t let the glasses and bookworm exterior fool you. He definitely has a hothead side. It’s sort of what I like about him. He’s intelligent, good-looking, and just alpha enough without going overboard. He’s also from New York, which is part of the reason why we work so well. We understand each other. Speak the same language. Being with him feels like a little piece of home in the middle of Alabama.
    After Kam and I split, we didn’t speak for almost a year. But it’s sort of difficult to avoid the son of your father’s very serious girlfriend, especially when he’s sitting across the dining room table during the holidays. Breaking up with Kam was the hardest thing