Page 19 of Sugar
Chapter 3
Pucker Up, Turkey
MADDIE
Shit, I’m gonna be late.
My previous class was all the way across campus, and every single student seemed to have decided it was the perfect day to linger in walkways.
Or at the drinking fountain.
I narrowed my eyes at the line in front of me like I could use my mind to force everyone out of my way. I could always bypass the water, but I’d learned that lesson early on. If I didn’t come to pitch meetings for my college newspaper with a full bottle and a protein bar, I would be forced to suffer.
The one time I’d left to get a drink, I’d missed out on a dream assignment. Joel—my editor-in-chief—had known the story was basically tailor-made for me, but that hadn’t matter. I was gone, so he’d given it to someone else. He was ruthless like that.
There was no loyalty. No waiting. No handouts. Everything was a fight.
It was good training for the competitive and cutthroat world of journalism outside of the college setting.
It still sucked, though.
I was about to ditch my quest for water and accept the inevitable dehydration migraine when the line picked up speed. Once it was my turn, I turned my glare to the stream of water like I could make that go faster, too.
“Madeline.”
That gravelly voice.
It’d been three weeks since I’d heard it in Greer’s kitchen, but I recognized it immediately.
My head whipped up, sure I was imagining things. That dehydration had already kicked in, and I was hallucinating.
“I thought that was you,” Easton Wells said.
Like we were old friends.
Like it was no biggie for him to approach me.
Like it made any sense that he was at Coastal in the first place.
Completely thrown by his presence, that last part was what I focused on. My manners went out the window as I rudely blurted, “What are you doing here?”
He wasn’t fazed. His handsome face was the same blank as it’d been the night we met—with the exception of the hint of a smile and the maddening smirk he’d given when he’d caught me staring. He jerked his head back to gesture behind him. “I’m being dragged on a tour to show all the areas that could use improvements.”
My brows lowered. “Why?”
“I believe this is their version of taking me to dinner before they ask me to put out.”
That wasn’t thewhyI’d been asking. I wanted to know why he was there and getting the tour to begin with, but it seemed like that was the only answer I was getting.
“You should at least hold out for a molasses cookie from the café. They’re the best.” I leaned around to see which student ambassador was leading the tour. Only it wasn’t one.
It was DeanAnderson.
A handful of sharply dressed people I didn’t recognize stood near him, trying and failing to hide their impatience.
I get that he’s a hotshot, but this is surprising.
Uncaring that they were waiting, Easton undid the button on his suit coat and slid his hands into his pockets. “How’re the first few weeks of classes going?”
