Chapter 4- Rainy Pursuit

WESLEY’S POV

“Pass the ball, Adams! What the hell was that?”

Coach’s shout echoed across the court as the ball flew out of bounds again. I wiped sweat from my face and jogged back into position, but my head wasn’t in the game. It was on Samantha. That text she sent last night telling me to stay away only made me want to get closer.

Donald dribbled past me during the next play, smooth as always. “You good, man? You’ve been off since yesterday.”

“Yeah, just tired,” I lied, stealing the ball back and driving to the basket. I dunked it hard. The rim rattled.

Practice finally ended twenty minutes later. I grabbed my towel and headed for the lockers with the team. Donald fell into step beside me.

“So about that Samantha girl,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I brought her coffee yesterday. She seems really focused on her work. Maybe you should ease up on her.”

I stopped walking. “You brought her coffee? Nice move, Brook.”

He shrugged with that easy smile on his face. “She looked stressed. We’re in the same ethics class.

I figured it was friendly.”

“Friendly,” I repeated. The word tasted sour. “Did she smile at you? Thank you all sweet and proper?”

Donald laughed. “Yeah, she did. Why? You jealous already? You barely know her.”

“I’m not jealous.” I tossed my towel into my bag harder than necessary. “She’s just… different. Most girls throw themselves at me, but she acts like I annoy her on purpose.”

“You probably do,” he said, pulling on a fresh shirt. “Some girls want more than a quick hookup after a game.”

I thought about her flushed face in the library, the way her breath changed when I got close. “Maybe I want more than that this time.”

Donald gave me a long look but didn’t push it. We finished changing and headed out together. Rain was falling again as we crossed campus toward the student union for food.

My phone buzzed. I checked it fast.

Samantha: Group project list is confirmed. We’re in the same group with two others. Meeting tomorrow at 4pm in study room B3. Don’t be late.

I grinned at the screen. “She texted me about the project. Sounds pissed already.”

Donald glanced over. “We’re all in that group actually. Should be interesting.”

“Very interesting,” I muttered.

We grabbed burgers from the union and sat with a couple of the other lads. Jake was going on about some party this weekend, but I kept checking my phone. No new messages from her, so I typed one out.

Me: I’ll be there. Bring that attitude of yours. Makes things fun.

Her reply took ten minutes.

Samantha: This is thirty-five percent of our grade, Wesley. Try to take it seriously for once.

Me: I take lots of things seriously. Like making sure you eat properly while stressing over books.

Samantha: I don’t need you worrying about what I eat.

Me: Too late. See you tomorrow, sweetheart.

I pocketed my phone and took a big bite of my burger. Donald watched me but said nothing. Smart guy.

Later that afternoon, I had a free period so I wandered toward the literature building. Not stalking. Just… passing by. I spotted her through the window of a seminar room, sitting near the front, scribbling notes like her life depended on it. Her curly hair was tied back, exposing that little beauty mark above her eyebrow. She looked focused, serious, and sexy as hell.

I waited outside until the seminar ended. Students poured out. When Samantha stepped into the hallway, she saw me immediately and froze.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, adjusting her heavy bag on her shoulder.

“Walking. University is a free country last time I checked.” I fell into step beside her. “How was the seminar? Learn anything exciting about dead authors?”

She sped up. “It was on postcolonial theory. And yes, it was useful. Unlike standing around watching you waste time.”

“Ouch.” I matched her pace easily with my longer legs. “You always this mean to guys who want to feed you?”

“I don’t need feeding. I need to finish my essay and prepare for this group project you probably won’t contribute to.”

We stepped outside into the drizzle. She pulled her hood up. I didn’t bother. I liked the rain.

“Give me a chance,” I said. “I might surprise you. Business students aren’t all dumb jocks.”

Samantha stopped under a covered walkway and turned to face me. “Why are you doing this, Wesley? You can have any girl on campus. Why chase the one who keeps telling you no?”

I stepped closer. Her back pressed against the wall. Not trapping her, but close enough to see the pulse beating in her neck.

“Because you keep telling me no,” I admitted. “And the way you say it makes me want to hear you say yes even more. Plus, I saw how you looked at me yesterday morning. You’re feeling this too.”

Her cheeks flushed that pretty pink again. “Feeling what? Annoyance? Yes. Strongly.”

I laughed low. “Liar. Your eyes say something else when I’m close.”

She looked away, biting her lower lip. Fuck, that lip bite did things to me.

“I have to go,” she said quickly. “Angelina is waiting and I still have two chapters to read before bed.”

“Angelina, your wild roommate?” I asked, remembering the name from somewhere. “The one with the red hair?”

“Yes. And she’s probably going to interrogate me about you again.” Samantha sighed. “Look, tomorrow’s meeting is important. Please just show up and try.”

“I will.” I reached out and brushed a raindrop from her cheek before I could stop myself. Her skin felt warm. Soft. “But after the meeting, let me buy you a proper coffee. Not the one Donald brought you.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know about that?”

“Campus isn’t that big.” I shrugged. “So what do you say?”

She stared at me for a long moment, conflict all over her face. Then she ducked under my arm and started walking again.

“I say focus on the project first, Wesley. My scholarship depends on these grades. I can’t afford to mess up.”

I watched her go, that familiar spark burning in my chest. Scholarship pressure. Family expectations. I knew all about that even if I hid it better.

My phone rang as I headed back toward my flat. My mum.

“Hey Mum,” I answered.

“Wesley, love. How’s the scholarship looking? You keeping your grades up?”

“Working on it,” I said, kicking a stone along the path. “Big group project starting tomorrow.”

“Good. Don’t let basketball take over everything. I worry about you, you know.”

“I know.” I swallowed. “I’ll be fine.”

We talked for a few more minutes about normal stuff before hanging up. Her words stuck with me. Grades. Future. Not fucking everything up like Dad did.

That night I tried to review the ethics reading but kept thinking about Samantha… Her determination, the way she challenged me, and how her body reacted when I got close even if her mouth said otherwise.

I texted her one more time.

Me: Sweet dreams, Samantha. Try not to think about me too much while you’re reading those boring books.

She replied twenty minutes later.

Samantha: I wasn’t thinking about you at all. Goodnight.

I smiled at the obvious lie. Tomorrow’s group meeting was going to be explosive. Her, me, Donald, and a big chunk of our grades on the line.

I couldn’t wait.