“What the fuck are you smiling about?”
Zeke mutters after class when I reach him in the back of the room.
It’s the first actual sentence he’s uttered since that night.
I should’ve known it would have something to do with Dean.
“Why does it have to be any of your business?
And hi, I’m glad to know your voice still works.”
He stares around me in Dean’s direction.
I nudge him.
“Could you stop?
Please.
This is ridiculous.”
“I don’t like that guy.”
“Yes, I know.
You’ve made that clear.
But I don’t remember asking for your opinion, either.
Come on.”
I give him another nudge, this time trying to direct him toward the door.
The rest of the class is moving around us, oblivious.
Zeke has kind of blended in now.
Everybody expects to see us together.
He won’t stop staring across the room-and what’s worse, when I look over my shoulder, I see Dean staring right back.
For a second, I can’t help but think he would be dangerous in the right-or wrong-situation.
When he realizes I’m looking, though, that feeling goes away along with the cold look in his eyes.
Like I imagined it in the first place.
Maybe I’m getting off on this a little bit.
I can admit it.
A guy out there wants to fight for me, and not because somebody is paying him to.
How refreshing.
“I’m sorry you don’t like him,” I say to Zeke, “but he is my partner on this project.
And eventually, we’re going to have to get together to go over our presentation.
You’re going to have to live with that.”
“Just keep him away from me,” he growls, sliding on his aviators.
“Because I can’t promise I’ll behave myself if he pisses me off.”
Great.
Here I am, stuck between these two, and both of them have the wrong idea about the other one.
“I’m going to wipe that smirk off his face one of these days,” he vows.
“Just wait and see.”
I wish he didn’t sound deadly serious when he says it.
How am I supposed to keep playing both sides?
Eventually, I’ll have to choose one.
“Would you fight him?”
I have to ask.
“I mean, for real.
Would you risk getting yourself into trouble over that?”
He doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t need to.
His silence is answer enough.
And the thing is… if they do fight, I’m not sure which one I’d want to win.
Chapter 15: Zeke
15
ZEKE
“Y
ou said I could have friends over.
I’ve even had friends over before now.”
No matter where I go in this fucking condo, she has to follow me.
She’s not going to let this go.
Even if I lock myself in my room, her screeching will drive me out of my skull.
“You didn’t care when Blair came to stay,” she reminds me.
“You didn’t care when I had Posey and her roommates over last weekend.”
“You’re right; I didn’t care.
Because that was them.
That wasn’t… him.”
I know I should at least try not to be so obvious in hating the guy, but I can’t help it.
Every time I set eyes on him, my blood boils.
He has the most punchable face I’ve ever seen.
“Would you let it go already?
Jesus Christ!”
She slams the drawer she opened in the kitchen.
“What is with your obsession with him!”
“Obsession?
I fucking hate the guy.
How about that?”
“Why?
Because he looks at me?
Because he’s nice to me?”
She holds her arms out to the sides.
“Well?
Is that it?
Does it offend you that much that a member of the male species would actually be kind toward me without anybody paying him to do it?”
It’s been like this for weeks.
Things will be decent between us-still awkward, but not where we’re screaming at each other the way we are now-but little things like this keep popping up.
Somebody looks at her, or she insists on wearing something too tight or too short or too low-cut or all of the above.
And instantly, it’s like an explosion.
Letting her have friends over isn’t helping chill her out, either.
I still feel like I’m walking through a minefield every goddamn day.
At least there’s the Thanksgiving break to look forward to in a few weeks.
I can take a breather and put a little space between us in that big house.
“Are you going to answer me or not?”
she demands with an actual, literal pout.
“You know, every time I think you’ve grown up a little, you go back to being this bratty little bitch.
How’s that for an answer?”
Her face goes beet red an instant before she lashes out.
“A bratty little bitch?
You’re lucky I don’t have time to rip your balls off right now, but I have to get ready for my guests.”
“I fucking told you, he’s not stepping foot in here.”
“Listen to me.”
She marches up to me, our toes practically touching, and thrusts a finger at my chest.
“I know I’ve threatened you with this before, but I mean at this time.
I will call my father, and I will win.
Dean has done literally nothing to hurt me.
He’s been nothing but nice.
And we have a presentation coming up immediately after Thanksgiving, and it’s most of my grade.
This is for school.
And you’re not in any position to decide who comes into this condo.
You don’t pay for it.”
She’s wrong.
I don’t even have the heart to tell her how wrong she is.
If she called her father and complained I was standing in the way of her schoolwork, he would side with me because he places no value on her work.
This is a layover, like at an airport.
She doesn’t know it, but all she’s doing is waiting for the next step.
And if I can’t handle that piece of shit Dean setting eyes on her, what am I supposed to do when she’s married off?
How am I going to handle that?
As much as I hate the idea of ever letting her out of my sight, it would be better than being hired as her bodyguard once she’s somebody’s wife.
I’d rather move to the middle of nowhere and change my name than ever subject myself to that.
She’s still standing in front of me, glaring up at me with every ounce of passion she owns.
That’s saying something.
I feel sorry for her, the way I seriously shouldn’t.
All it does is complicate things.
But I can’t let her call her father.
I can’t let him break her heart, and that’s exactly what he would do.
The whole situation with her bank card was bad enough, and it would pale compared to this.
“Fine.
No need to call him.
I know my place.”
I incline my head a little, giving her a sarcastic bow.
“But so help me God, if he puts a hand on you, I’m throwing him over the railing outside.
And if you think I’m joking, just try me.”
“Fine.
He won’t touch me.”
She turns away, but not fast enough to hide her triumphant little grin.
A part of me still hates knowing she thinks she’s won.
Like I’m giving in because I’m scared of my boss.
When did everything shift?
It wasn’t the night I made her come-I felt sorry for her even before then.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.