My mouth drops open.
“I’m in your next class, too,” he adds.
“Excuse me?”
He smirks.
“You don’t even know what my next class is.”
“Diversity and Historical Oppression.”
Okay, that’s freaky. “How do you know my schedule, and why are you suddenly in two of my classes?” I don’t bother to hide the accusation in my tone, not that he’s the least bit phased by it.
“I asked my counselor to look you up.” He says it so casually, like it’s a completely normal thing to do. News flash. It is not. “And I had her place me in the two classes you’re in that still fulfill some of my degree requirements. Took a few days for the professors to sign off on everything, but we’re good now.”
A flurry of strange and uncomfortable feelings wrap invisible fingers around my chest, but the one that sticks out the most is anger. No scratch that. Rage.
Who does this? And more importantly, why would he even want to?
Gabriel doesn’t actually want to be in this class. If he did, that would make this just some sort of coincidence and significantly less creepy. But it’s not a coincidence. This is intentional and beyond inappropriate. I mean, there are rules against this, right?
He got an administrator to look up my schedule. Had himself specifically placed into my classes. Mine. That’s insane. Hell, it's borderline stalker-ish.
“What could possibly possess you to do that?” I thought he hated me? At the very least, he made it clear when we last spoke that he didn’t like me. So, why go to all this trouble?
Gabriel’s previous carefree smile is gone, wiped away and replaced with a look of unbridled determination.
“A lot of things, but most important is the fact I couldn’t save my brother.” Our professor steps into the room but Gabriel doesn’t miss a beat. “Not him or my parents. My family. None of it. But…” he lets his words trail off and I wait on bated breath for him to finish. My heart leaps into my throat, thumping widely. “I can and will save you.”
Spine stiffening, a cold feeling twists inside me and my heart plummets from my throat to the pit of my stomach.What?
The anger from Monday is back. That edge in his voice that tells me this isn’t a game for him. Well, newsflash. It’s not a game to me either. Who does he think he is?
“I am not some charity case. I don’t want or need you—or anyone else for that matter—to save me.”
His eyes bore into mine, unblinking. “Too bad.”
“Excuse me?”
Our professor starts to call out names, taking attendance, but I tune him out, refusing to let this slide. Gabriel doesn’t get to insert himself in my life like this. It’s not okay.
“You’re welcome to hate it. Hell, you can even hate me. Tell yourself I’m an asshole. I don’t care.” He doesn’t. Looking at him now, I know my opinion on the matter means absolutely nothing to him. “At the end of the day, no matter your feelings or what you say, you can’t stop me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” he agrees, not sounding at all concerned.
“Cecilia Russo,” Professor Arndt calls out.
I raise my hand, not looking away. He moves on to the next name on his list.
“I don’t need to be saved,” I grind out between clenched teeth.
Gabriel shrugs and turns in his chair until he’s once again facing the front of the room. “Maybe. Maybe not. I guess we’ll find out. But like it or not, I'm here to stay. Just call me your personal guardian angel.”
I grind my molars together. I already call him that in my head, though not with the satisfaction he so obviously feels when saying it.
I get the feeling admitting that to him will only make the smug look on his face grow, so I keep it to myself.
