Would You Rather: A College Romance (Campus Games Book 3)

Stuck with you

What was he thinking?

That asshole better have a good excuse for why he decided that trying to take a shower on his own was a good idea. He’s heard the doctor’s orders, and even though he might have joked, I never once thought he might do this.

He knows it was stupid as fuck, and now it’s landed him in hospital.

My phone rings in my pocket, and I let out a curse when I see Ana’s name on the screen. My agent is good at her job, one of the best, but when I see her text, my jaw ticks with annoyance.

Ana:

We weren’t finished. That isn’t a way to leave a meeting. Be a little more professional next time.

Professional? How the fuck could I stay another second in that room when I got a call from the hospital? I couldn’t. Didn’t even care what they were saying. It’s all the same shit, anyway.

We need something different. Something new.

People are bored, Lucas. Our current strategy is no longer working.

You don’t want to be irrelevant, do you?

Fuck that. I didn’t even want to be part of that perfume commercial. I couldn’t stay in that room a second longer, hearing how everything I worked so hard for was no longer good enough. That I’m no longer good enough. As soon as I got that call, her voice drowned out, and I raced out of there.

James has been my best friend for the better part of my life, so leaving to check up on him was a no-brainer. I just hope they didn’t call my mom. That poor woman would jump over hoops to be at the hospital.

Heavy pelts hit the glass, and I turn my head to see rain pouring down over the city, droplets hitting the glass. “Great,” I mutter with a sigh. This will make it ten times harder to find a cab.

I stuff my phone in my pocket, ignoring the rush of texts my agent keeps sending, and lift my head just in time to see the elevator doors about to close. “Wait up,” I call out to whoever is inside.

A slim, white heel props itself between the doors, opening them back up. My eyes drift up to see a girl standing there, with her foot in front of her. She moves back when she sees me about to enter, and I let out a breath, jogging inside. “Thank you,” I tell her. She presses her lips together in a smile and faces forward, staring at her reflection. Or is she looking at me?

She didn’t seem to know who I was, or maybe she was faking. It’s not the first time someone’s tried to get my attention that way. I’ve been in the eyes of the public for so long that it doesn’t surprise me. People are fake. They lie and cheat and do whatever they need to for fame and money.

I lean against the back of the elevator and cross my arms, looking at her. I let my eyes drift down her body, taking in her outfit. It’s the middle of the day, during a rainstorm, and this girl is in a dress. A mid-length, dark red dress that brings out the warm brown tones of her deep skin color.

I rub my chin, and I feel my lips turning up in a smirk. Really hope she’s not a crazed fan or, worse, a pap. Lord knows it’s not the first time I got tricked by the paparazzi before, ambushing me when I least expect it. They have no limits when it comes to taking pictures to get the story they want to tell, even if it isn’t true.

I glance up at her again, meeting her eyes in her reflection. She isn’t looking at me, though. She’s just staring back at herself. Does she really not know who I am, or is she just playing me? I hope it’s the former. It’s kind of relaxing.

Of course, that’s before the lights go out and the elevator grinds to a halt.

“What the hell?” I step forward, trying not to panic as the whole room fills with complete darkness. There was probably a blackout because of the rain, I’m sure it will start moving again in no time.

But the girl next to me doesn’t seem to think the same. Her panicked voice startles me. “No,” she cries out, banging on the doors. I blink, trying to adjust my eyes to the dark, but it’s no use. “No,” she yells again. Oh hell, what a way to stay calm.

“Hey,” I try to coax her, approaching wherever she is. It’s only me and her in this dingy elevator, and she might think I’m a murderer or something. And by the sound of her screaming, she’d be able to convince anyone of it. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” she shouts back.

My eyebrows raise. “I’m just trying to help you,” I tell her. “These things have generators. You don’t need to panic. It’s probably going to kick in anytime now.”

“How do you know that?” she asks, her voice cracking. “What if it doesn’t?” I hear her sniffling and then drop to the floor.

I let out a sigh, feeling a little bad. It’s a shitty situation to be in, especially with a stranger. I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn on the flash. “We’ll have to make do with what we’ve got until it comes back on,” I tell her, trying to adjust my eyes to the dark room with only the flash as an aid. I spot a small figure curled up in a ball on the ground, her face buried in her hands.

I lift myself off the ground and point the flash to the wall, looking for the emergency phone. My fingers reach for it, pressing it and waiting for someone to pick up. It rings, and rings, and rings. “Hello?” I call into the intercom, but there’s no response.

“I can’t do this again,” the girl says to herself. “Not again.” She cries out again, and as much as I want to comfort her and help her out, I don’t fucking know what to do.

“You’re seriously not helping.” I turn around, pointing the flash to her. “We have some light for now, and the power will come back on soon. Just relax.”

“Relax?” she repeats, lifting her head to look at me. Tears stream down her scowling face. “How can I relax when I’m stuck in an elevator twelve stories from the ground with a stranger.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “The first rule of these things is to remain calm, and you’re not doing that. You panicking is not helping, so please, just stop crying. I’m trying to help us here.”

“What are you doing to help?” she asks. “Have you called someone yet?”

I glare down at her. “Yes. The intercoms don’t work.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I mean on your phone.”

Fuck. My brows furrow. Why didn’t I think of that? “I was just about to,” I lie, searching for my mom’s name. The line beeps a few times, and then the call ends. “Fuck. No signal. The blackout must have interfered with the power lines.”

The girl starts crying again, and I turn around, the sight of her crying and shaking her head in absolute agony. It stabs at my chest, so I let out a sigh and crouch down to her level. “Hey,” I say, approaching her. “What’s your name?” I reach out my hand and place it on her arm.

Oh fuck. Wrong move. She sucks in a breath and flinches away from me. “Don’t touch me.” Her voice cracks, and I take a step back from her.

“Okay, okay.” I hold my hands up. “I’m not going to touch you, okay? Just open your eyes and look at me. Can you do that?”

She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes even tighter. Her breathing has become erratic as small hiccups escape her. Jesus, I need to calm her down.

“What’s your name?” I ask her again, using a gentler tone this time. She doesn’t reply; she just keeps crying. “My name’s Lucas. What’s yours?”

She looks up at me, her eyes glassy as tears stream down her face. At least it’s a start. “Mad-e-line.” It comes out choppy and mixed with hiccups, but at least she said it.

I give her a smile, wanting to make her feel comfortable and, most importantly – calm. “That’s a nice name,” I tell her. “Okay, Madeline. I need you to breathe for me. Can you do that?”

She narrows her eyes. “Why are you speaking to me like a child?”

I press my lips together in amusement. This girl is not easy to work with, is she? “Hey, you’re making jokes.”

She lets out a breath, but it still sounds choppy. I shake my head. “Breathe, Madeline,” I tell her. I inhale deeply, wanting her to do the same. “Come on. Just breathe.”

She glances at me and imitates me by inhaling deeply and then lets out a breath. I drop to my ass, sitting back against the wall, and run my hand through my hair. Fuck my life. I need to be at the hospital right now.

“Are you scared of heights or something?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. Huh. I wonder why she’s freaking out then. I don’t have much time to think about it because the lights turn back on, making my eyes widen.

“Hey.” I glance toward her, seeing more of her now that we’re not in the dark. “See? I told you it would come back on soon.”

When the elevator starts moving, I grin, lifting myself off the floor. She doesn’t move, though, still in the same position, and I hear her soft cries. Fuck, I’ve never been good with tears, and hers are like a shot through the heart.

The elevator dings when we reach the ground floor, and the doors open up. “Oh, thank goodness.” I lift my eyes to see an older woman letting out a breath. She clutches her jacket and shakes her head. “I tried getting help. I saw the elevator was stuck.”

“Thank you,” I tell the woman, noting the repair guy beside her.

She smiles back, but then a frown appears as her eyes drop to the ground, where Madeline is still sitting. “Is she okay?” the lady asks.

Fuck knows. “She’s fine,” I reply, heading back into the elevator. “Madeline,” I call out for her. “The doors are open now. You’re all good.”

She doesn’t move from the spot on the floor, and my brows furrow. Murmurs sound behind me, and I glance outside to see more people gathering around, trying to look inside. Shit. This is not good. If someone recognizes me, the paparazzi won’t stop, and this girl doesn’t deserve that.

I clench my jaw and lean closer to her. “Madeline,” I whisper, careful not to touch her again. “You need to get up.”

It’s like she doesn’t hear me. She makes no effort to move, and the crowd gathering is getting bigger by the second. I blow out a breath, taking matters into my own hands.

Positioning my hands below her, I lift her off the ground and pick her up in my arms. She gasps, wrapping her arms around my neck so she doesn’t fall. Finally. A damn reaction from her. Her eyes widen when she looks up at me and I carry her out of the elevator and head outside. People murmur and talk behind me, but I honestly don’t give a fuck. Fat chance I’ll ever see them again anyway.

“What are you doing?” she asks when I push through the doors, the rain falling on us. She starts to kick her feet, but at least she’s not screaming.

“I’m getting you out of here.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Stop kicking your feet.” The rain falls on us harder, coating us from head to toe, and she kicks her feet harder. “Stop that,” I tell her. “Someone’s going to think I’ve kidnapped you.”

“Then put me down.”

I stare down at her, noting her face drenched from the rain, her narrowed eyes, her full lips in a scowl, and I breathe harshly.

This fucking woman.

The sound of a loud flash of a camera makes my head snap to my side, and I curse when I see paparazzi surrounding me. “Fuck.”

I drop her to the ground, and she lets out a yelp from the fast movement. But before she can say anything, I take hold of her hand and run toward the hotel a few feet nearby, where they can’t follow us inside.

I push through the revolving doors and rush inside, letting go of her hand as soon as we’re safe from the rain and the cameras.

I glance behind, trying to see if any of them snuck in, but when I don’t see anyone, I run a hand down my face and blow out a breath. I can’t wait to see what the press will say about that. More rumors, no doubt. They don’t care about the truth. They just want drama so they can fill their pockets at the expense of others.

“Excuse me,” a feminine voice gets my attention from behind me. I turn to face her and blink to take in her appearance. It’s the first time I’ve seen her properly since it was dark in the elevator. So now, as she stands in front of me, with her hand propped on her hip, I take her in.

She’s drenched from the rain, her hair flat against her head, a row of curls popping around her face. Her makeup is a little smudged, and her long dress is now stuck to her body, not leaving anything to the imagination.

Her nipples are little pebbles pressed against the silky material, and I force myself to look away. Fuck, she’s pretty as hell.

Except she’s scowling at me. “Yes?” I ask her like I wasn’t just checking her out.

“Am I free to leave, or do you want to hold me captive a little longer?”

My eyebrows raise, and although I should be offended by her interpretation of my help as some form of captivity, I can’t help but find it amusing. I press my lips together to hide my smirk. “A thank you would be nice.”

She blinks. “For what, exactly?”

I shrug. “Helping you in there. Getting you away from the paparazzi.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “The paparazzi?” she asks. “Why would they care about me?”

I smile at her, liking the fact that she doesn’t know who I am. “Just say thank you. Is it really that hard for you?”

She looks to the side, pressing her lips together. “Thanks,” she mumbles.

I cross my arms, smirking at her. “I don’t know.” I shake my head at her. “Didn’t really seem like you meant it.”

She turns her head to look at me, and her gaze is filled with anger as she glares at me. “Are you serious?”

“Very.”

She lets out an aggravated sigh. “Thank you,” she says. “For helping me… in there.”

“Better,” I say, nodding. “You should work on that.” When she narrows her eyes, I chuckle. “You’re welcome.”

“So I can go?”

I hold out my hand to the front door, glancing outside to see if the paparazzi are still there. I don’t see them, and hopefully, they forget what she looks like, or else she’s going to be hit with a thousand different questions about me and us and whatever else they ask.

She walks past me and heads toward the exit. “Nice to meet you,” I call out to her.

She looks behind her shoulder at me and scrunches her brows. “Can’t say the same.” She turns around, pushes open the revolving doors, and steps outside.

I run my hands over my mouth. Any other girl would be dying to spend time with me, but she couldn’t run away from me any faster if she tried.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out with a smile on my face, but when I see my mom’s text, my smile drops.

Mãe:

On the way to the hospital. Where are you?

“Shit. James.”