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How can I expect our friendship to survive if every time I see him and Blair together it feels like my heart is being shoved through a grinder?
I need to get over him.
I need to get over this.
Corvin’s offer is on the table, and it might be the only thing that can save what’s left of me and my best friend.
Chapter 10
Shiloh
Corvin is only ever in one of two places: our dorm or the library. Thanks to the stupid white-board schedule he makes me take a picture of every morning, he’s easy enough to find, but by the time I’ve stalked across campus, the ugly feeling in my stomach has transformed into a blinding rage.
He’s in the same private library room with the RAs as last time, and while the girl he’s talking to raises a brow at my entrance, Corvin doesn’t even look up from the paper he’s writing on.
I can see it on her face that she wants to ask me what’s wrong, but I don’t have it in me to answer that, so I swallow the anger I’m seething and beat her to the punch.
“I need your help, Morales. Now.”
He stops just long enough to glance over his shoulder at me and sighs at what he sees.
“What’s rule number two, Shiloh?”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “Don’t interrupt you. Wait my turn. Some bullshit like that. I don’t give a fuck; I never said I agreed to your terms.”
He’s quiet; scribbling something on his paper without even acknowledging me. I tap my foot to the pace of my racing heart, and when he makes no move to get the hell up and help me, I storm into the room and slap my hands down on the table.
“Goddammit, Corvin. I’m coming to you. Help me. Fucking please.”
The girl on my left whistles, but I pay her no mind as I stare down at Corvin’s hand still writing away.
Self control has never been something I’ve been prided on.
I yank the piece of paper from his notebook and crumple it up, throwing it somewhere random in the room.
Finally willing to pay attention, Corvin looks up, and the threat in those green eyes is almost as expressive as the heat behind them.
“Would you like to talk, sweetheart?”
No, I don’t want to fucking talk, but if it will get him to his feet and out of this damn room, then I’ll take it.
“Alone. It’s personal.”
He tips his head, deep in thought. Corvin is unfairly attractive when I’m not in an anger-based horndog phase, but with my body’s current need to get physical he’s practically a goddamn god.
It’s infuriating.
He’s got rich brown skin and dark, coiled hair. Right now he’s wearing a pair of black, thick framed square glasses that makes most people look like a dork, but the way his eyes peer over the rims makes him look anything but.
Arousal bursts to life in my veins.
It isn’t fair.
“Excuse me,” he says and pushes away from the table.
The time it takes him to put his things away is excruciating. When he faces me all calm and confident like he’s the one in charge even though this shot is mine to call reignites the simmering anger.
I grab his wrist and drag him from the room, but the fucker keeps a steady pace despite my insistence. Once the door is closed, I brace both hands on his shoulders and push him to the wall with all the strength I have.
