Tristan thinks I don't notice him. He couldn't be more wrong. What he doesn't realize is that we've met before.

Memphis: The second I spotted him on campus I made the decision to avoid him. Though I told myself it was the right thing to do because of our history, it was more difficult than I'd anticipated.

At a frat party to celebrate the Saints' latest win, I'm confronted by a walking hurricane drenched in emo vibes—otherwise known as Tristan Stafford. Slinging colorful insults that make absolutely no sense, it quickly becomes clear that he's developed strong opinions where I'm concerned. It would seem he hates me and my . . . dimples?

I'm insulted. Amused. Intrigued. And now he has my full attention.

If he hates me now, I have no idea how he'll feel once he learns the truth. It's a risk I'll have to take because I can't, and won't, stay away from him. Not now. Maybe not ever.



Contains mature themes.