Filmed: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (City Series Book 3) (2 page)

Before I could drop into a fantasy where I punished him over and over for being such a dick, Chris stepped up next to me.

“Who was that hottie?” she asked

I snorted. “Just some asshole I almost tackled.”

“He was into you. I thought he was about to ask you out.”

I paused. “Do you really think so?”

“I thought he was ‘just some asshole’?” she said, grinning at me. “But yeah, definitely. He was practically impregnating you with his eyes.”

“Oh shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes. Before she could come back at me, I walked off toward the box office window. Despite my bruised dignity, I was determined to see the movie. Chris laughed and followed, and I knew I was in for a few more jokes about that beautiful asshole Noah before the night was over.

C
hris and I lived in a small, two-bedroom apartment on the southwest corner of campus. Across the street, less than a hundred feet from our front door, was the best Chinese food place in north Philly. A few days later, as the last evening of summer vacation wound down, and more and more students filtered into the area, we ate noodles and sat on the stoop. The night was hot, sticky and sweaty, and we chatted aimlessly about the coming week. The first few days of classes were always the most fun; they were usually syllabus days, and we rarely had homework. Chris was particularly excited for her neurology class, since she wanted to be a brain surgeon, and I was looking forward to a survey of early American films. Since I wanted to be, well, something.

“I found something out about that Noah hunk you nearly had sex with,” Chris said after a huge bite of lo mein.

“I did not almost have sex with him,” I said, blushing. The memory of his intense blue eyes running up and down my body as I struggled to cover myself came flooding back. Even though it had already been a few days since my wardrobe malfunction, I couldn’t get him off my mind. I had done some light Facebook stalking, but nothing too serious.

“Whatever, close enough. Guess what his dad does?”

I shrugged. “Ex-football player turned coach. Balding, weights forty pounds too much, loves Bud Light.”

Chris laughed. “Weirdly specific, but nope. He’s a movie producer.”

I quirked an eyebrow, surprised. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, and you know what’s even cooler?”

“What?” I could already tell where Chris was going with everything, but it was better to let her get there than interrupt. That would only provoke her more.

“He’s the guy that paid for your precious new theater.”

I was pretty taken aback at that. The guy who I kept fantasizing about, who had undressed me with his eyes, was the son of a guy in the movie business. It was a weird coincidence, or at least it felt like one.

“I don’t believe you,” I said, hoping she’d go into more detail.

“It’s true. Selena was in the dorms with him, apparently. His dad is loaded, like ultra loaded. He produced those superhero movies, the really popular ones.” Chris shrugged. She wasn’t the best with pop culture, although I knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Why were you talking to Selena about this?” I asked. Selena was one of Chris’s friends from bio class last semester. I had met her a few times, and she was nice enough, but a huge ditz.

“I saw a picture of him on her Facebook, and since you’ve been stalking him down so hard, I figured I’d help you out.”

“I haven’t been stalking him!”

“Yeah, okay.” She gave me a wink and laughed. I wanted to smack the noodles from her mouth, but I knew she was right.

I sighed. “What else did she say?”

“Not much. He’s a huge player and stuff. She didn’t really know him that well.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

Chris grinned. “Why, because he’s so hot everyone must swoon over him?”

“No, I mean, just the way he talked.”

“I get it. You’re hot for this guy. Practically dripping.”

Wow. Chris could be pretty graphic sometimes. I thought it had something to do with her physical science background. Instead of acknowledging her clearly untrue statement, I threw a strand of noodles in her direction.

Chris was usually pretty perceptive, especially when it came to my love life. For whatever reason, she was the Rain Man of my sexual desire, and she always knew when I was into someone, no matter what I did. Even if I hid it from her, she eventually sniffed it out. Noah was no exception.

Even though he had been a total asshole, I still couldn’t get him off of my mind. The news that his father was a big movie producer only made him that much more alluring to me. It wasn’t the money, but the fact that he had a connection to something I loved that interested me. I imagined what his life must have been like growing up in the film industry. My mother would have killed for something like that considering she had made her professional academic career analyzing movies.

I kept thinking back to his perfectly fitted faded jeans and designer shirt, distressed perfectly to appear vintage, and I realized he looked like the consummate rich guy. But there was something in his look, behind his cocky, self-assured grin, that I couldn’t understand. Not to mention he walked into the theater showing
Pierre Le Fou
, which was a French movie by a famous filmmaker named Jean-Luc Godard. My mother adored Godard, and I was surprised Noah was interested in watching his stuff. I never got into it, but I would have given it another chance if it meant sitting next to Noah in the dark for an hour or two. Chris and I ended up seeing an old Clint Eastwood western, which spared me from having to bump into Noah again. I couldn’t decide if that was fortunate or not.

I huffed as Chris and I stood up and went back inside, trying to forget the thoughts that kept swirling through my mind. Noah Carterson, asshole, playboy, and rich kid, was lodged firmly in my skull, and I couldn’t shake him loose.

––––––––

I
loved the first day of class. The previous week was full of freshmen moving into their dorms, upperclassmen lounging around in the shade, and everything generally gearing up for the coming semester. When classes were out, campus was a ghost town; even the lunch trucks closed up since the majority of their customers were either at home or just not coming around. But things slowly got more frantic and exciting until it all peaked on the first day.

I walked through the center of campus, passed by the bell tower and the library, and made my way toward Anderson Hall. My first class was the one I was most excited for:
Survey of Early American Films, 1901 – 1951
. That time period in film history was so romantic to me; everything was new, every technique was just being discovered, the way to write and market a film was slowly being understood, and the big studios rose up around Hollywood and began to dominate the industry. It was full of gossip and intrigue and amazing stories. I breathed in the warm autumn air and smiled as hoards of lost-looking freshmen walked by.

Campus was perfect when the weather was nice. I wore my favorite sundress, clean white sneakers with white ankle socks, and a new backpack I got over the summer. I eyed up everyone around me, but I didn’t recognize anyone, except for the annoying kid who always sat on the Bell Tower’s steps and played his awful guitar music. That wasn’t surprising though, since Temple had thousands of kids. Still, I recognized a general pattern and flow, the way people sat on benches and ate on their breaks, professors hurrying through the crowds to make it in time for their next overfull class, and general maintenance guys lining up outside the pizza lunch trucks. I smiled and felt strangely at home.

I pushed open the door to Anderson and walked through the crowded downstairs atrium. My class was on the second floor, so I bypassed the packed line for the elevators, and started to climb the steps. Anderson was probably the most poorly designed building in the world. It had only two main elevators for twelve floors, and they were constantly packed like sardine cans. I always avoided them when possible. Usually, only freshmen and people on the uppermost levels took the elevators anyway.

After a short climb, I pushed out into the hall, and found room 237. I was ten minutes early, but I liked having time in case I couldn’t find the room. Temple’s campus was notoriously difficult to navigate, and rooms seemed to appear and disappear in different spots every semester. I sat down toward the back and began to unpack my bag, looking around at the other students.

People slowly filtered into the large room, taking up most spaces. With a few minutes left before the start of the class, Professor Johnson entered, looking haggard and tired. I had heard about him from my mom; he was supposedly brilliant, but incredibly weird. He sat down in front of the class and started to unpack his briefcase.

As Professor Johnson looked like he was about to start the lecture, two more students entered. The first one was a tall, slim blonde girl, wearing short jean shorts and a tight white T-shirt. She was the typical hot blonde girl, and I could have sworn I had seen her a hundred times before. The guy that followed her, however, took my breath away: it was Noah, grinning his usual cocky grin.

I couldn’t believe it. Noah Carterson, that asshole, was in my class, and was headed my way. The blonde skank led him into the back of the room, and as they passed by, Noah locked eyes with me. A small smirk replaced his grin, and he stopped next to me as he walked past.

“Hey there, polka dots,” he said quietly. I turned bright red.

“Hi, Noah,” I said, getting lost in his intense gaze.

“Fancy meeting you here. What’s the color today?”

My jaw dropped. Was he serious?

“Noah, come sit with me,” came the whiniest voice ever. We both looked over at the skank, gesturing impatiently for him to join her.

“Looks like your Barbie is calling,” I spat back.

“Tell me later then. I’d love another show.” He gave me a spine-melting smile, and then walked back to sit next to Stripper Barbie. I kept my head down, face bright red, and my heart was beating hard as excitement filled my chest.

I was seething and hot as Professor Johnson started his lecture. I couldn’t follow a single thing he said; it was all a blur of times, dates, and assignments. I was furious that Noah kept calling me “polka dots,” and couldn’t believe his nerve. He was walking around with the most cliché-looking skank I had ever seen, and he decides to stop and flirt with me right in front of her? It was insulting on so many levels, and yet I was flattered. I couldn’t help myself; he was wearing a V-neck shirt that showed off the top of a chest tattoo, his hair was pushed back and wavy, and his muscles looked perfect.

As soon as the class was finished, I shoved my stuff into my bag and rushed out the door. I didn’t want to give him another chance to imagine what color my underwear was, let alone have to engage with that horrible chick he was with. As I sped down the hall, I wondered if she was his girlfriend, but I doubted it. Based on what Chris told me, she was probably his most recent conquest.

I obsessed about his smile and the way he came on to me with such confidence as I filtered out into the beautiful day. I had to hustle to make it to my next class on time, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to mentally pick apart every detail of the short interaction. I wasn’t normally such a prude; I’d been with a few guys, though nothing really serious. I wasn’t a virgin, but I had only ever been with my high school boyfriend. Finding a crush was just never a huge priority for me, though I wasn’t as adverse to it as Chrissy seemed to be.

I thought I had experience with assholes like Noah, but he seemed like something completely different. I had never met a guy with such obvious self-assurance and easy grace. He was charming even when he was being obnoxious, and I hated and wanted him for it.

T
hat night, as I plopped down on the couch after a long day of class, I had to come face to face with my financial reality. My parents were helping as much as they could with tuition, but it was up to me to pay for my living expenses. I had some money saved up from my summer job, but that was quickly running out. I had to get the worst thing imaginable for a young girl living on a college campus: a job.

That was an exaggeration of course; I was used to working as many jobs as I needed to get by. I had always been as independent as possible, and hated the idea of someone else paying for everything.

I pulled out my laptop and navigated through the university’s job listings page. Last year, I had worked in the dean’s office answering phones, but it was such a miserable position, with so many people complaining all the time, that I couldn’t bring myself to go back there again. I scrolled through the postings, feeling more and more despair, until finally I came across what seemed like the perfect job.

I clicked the link and read the description. It was ideal, and I had plenty of experience in the position already. As Chris sat down beside me and launched into her usual early-semester bitch fest, complaining about her workload and schedule, I sent out my resume, hoping I’d get a call soon.

––––––––

I
didn’t hear anything the next day, but the day after that I got a call. Beyond excited, I offered to come in as soon as possible for an interview, and the kind-sounding woman on the phone scheduled me to come in that very night. I guessed they really needed the help if they were willing to meet with me that day.

My next film history class in room 237 was better. I sat up front and managed to more or less avoid Noah, though he did give me a huge smile as he walked by. That time, though, he didn’t sit next to Stripper Barbie, and I briefly wondered what had happened between them. I felt thrilled and terrified, all at once. I was able to actually pay attention that time, and found Professor Johnson’s lecture style was interesting but all over the place, which was exactly what I’d been expecting.

Afterward, I floated through my next classes, nervous about the interview. It wasn’t the first interview I had ever been on, far from it. But I really needed the job, and it was the perfect gig. I could have easily seen myself working there for the rest of my time at Temple, and the pay would definitely have covered everything I needed, at least with a little budgeting.