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I wave my hand and turn the corner sharply, hoping that it’ll dissuade Santi from following, but no luck there.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, smiling and nodding at passing students. I’m aware of each and every one of them as they stare after us. Maybe the news about Micah and me hasn’t reached the professors, but it sure as fuck has reached all the students on campus. Most probably in a whole variety of versions. Now they must be wondering why Santi and I are walking so conspicuously close to each other. He’s clearly enjoying making it look like we’re having an intimate conversation.
Fuck, this must look bad.
“In fact,” Santi pushes, despite my obvious discomfort, “I was wondering if you didn’t want to catch a movie this weekend. You look like you could use some light-hearted fun.”
“I’m fine,” I push out through a forced smile.
He grabs my shoulder, and when I fail to stop, he yanks. I swivel around, my eyes popping with indignation.
“Listen, Eva,” he says in a low voice. “I don’t know what’s been going on in your life lately, but you’ve been tense as hell.”
“I said I’m fine. Besides, even if I did have a problem, I’m making it obvious that I don’t want to talk about it with you, and you should respect that.” I tug myself away, but he catches my arm and yanks me close. Sweat breaks out down my back, and I instinctively look around. Students turn away, pretending they’re not seeing this.
My head whips back and I glare at Santi, but it doesn’t seem to affect him.
From the moment we met, the statistics professor acted meek and mild, and he knew how to make me laugh and get under my skin—and into my pants, too. Or maybe that was on me, my loneliness, and my need for human connection in a place that was completely new to me. But while Santi’s looks may have something of the boy next door, with his lanky and slightly hunched frame, ruffled hair and round glasses, they also have something psychotic about them. His eyes that used to crinkle warmly at the sides when he laughed are now poised to reach in and grab information that I’m not willing to share. It feels like attempted rape.
“You could fool everybody else in that meeting, Eva, but not me. I know you better than anyone. Something is wrong, and you have to talk about it, or it’s going to eat you up from the inside.” He pulls me so close that he’s in my breathing space. “Tell me the truth, does it have to do with Micah Royales?”
His fingers clamp so hard above my elbow that my face scrunches in pain. I struggle to get away, but he won’t let me.
“Let me go.”
“Not until you tell me.”
“And if it does have to do with Micah Royales?” I push my face up into his. “How is that any of your business?”
“You’re a professor. He’s a student.”
“He’s also a Heathen King. So what are you gonna do about it?”
His jaw sets, and I burst into laughter, attracting even more attention in the hallway.
“Yeah, I thought so.” I try to yank myself from his grip again, but he doesn’t let go this time either.
“Come over tonight,” he says under his breath. “He’s forcing you to do this. Maybe together we can find a solution.”
“Like what?”
“Is he making you sleep with him?”
I could laugh even harder at the jealousy in his voice, and the gall of him to show it. The first thing he did after we broke up was run to New York to get laid. He didn’t miss a single weekend to hook-up with drunken college girls. Now that I seem to be going on with my life, as dysfunctional as said “going-on” may be, he’s back to insisting that we belong together.
“Listen, unless you want to confront Micah about this, I suggest you let go of me and be on your merry way,” I say under my breath. “You’re inviting trouble you’re no match for.” The air seems to grow thicker around us, an ominous shadow falling on my back.
It’s only when I hear that rich baritone that I realize the shadow is real, and it’s right behind me.
“Back the fuck off if you want to keep your balls attached your body,” he warns in that deadly calm that could give a ghost the jitters.
Santi’s face snaps up, his eyes blasting wide behind his glasses.
I can’t hold back a wave of satisfaction. I’ve gotten somewhat used to Micah appearing out of nowhere like a smooth assassin, but the experience is brand new for Santi. His hand falls off of me instantly, and he steps back as Micah winds his strong arm around my waist. He stares daggers at Santi, who’s suddenly not so brave anymore.
“I wasn’t—” He looks between Micah and me. “Wait a minute, what is this?” He points at us like we’ve just turned into aliens. “So it’s true, you’re really sleeping with him?”
I try to step away, but Micah pulls me closer into his side, bringing my body flush against his. I try not to focus on how amazing he looks in his navy blue shirt that clings to his athletic body, or on his mouth-watering scent.
