Another degree? How many did he get at Harvard? He wasn’t even really hiding away he was out living his life while I was tortured for a lie I told for seven years and yet I don’t feel like I’m allowed to be angry at him, I am though, hurt, livid, heartbroken.
I finally drag my gaze upward to really take him in.
Black jeans. Tailored jacket. That careless, expensive kind of confidence money buys and oozes power. I jump when Jude looks over his shoulder, his blue eyes lock on mine, not curious at all. As if he knew I’d be here. Not good. A cruel smile flashes across his face again. He’s out for blood. Mine.
His eyes hold a dark purpose.
I’m not a coincidence.
I’m a target.
His reputation in high school was that of a guy you didn’t mess with. Kids would transfer schools, disappear altogether to avoid it; you did not mess with him or his family. Why else would I be so freaked out with what I saw? And what his dad asked me to do?
My stomach flips—hard enough that I instantly feel hate towards him for causing such a violent reaction. It’s like seven years never happened. I still react. I still want. My soul still screams Jude.
He continues to smirk at me.
Of course he does.
“Professor Harrison,” Jude says smoothly, like he didn’t just strip the room of oxygen for the last five minutes. “I’m sorry I’m interrupting your precious class. I’ll be quick.”
Interrupting? The corners of his arrogant mouth tilt upward in a way that demands attention, commands it.
God, he really is enjoying putting Evans in his place. It shouldn’t be hot. Despite my best efforts. It is.
Evans straightens, puffing up just enough to pretend he still has control. His eyes flick to mine in annoyance then back to Jude. “Class is already in session, kindly wait outside or see me during office hours.”
“And yet,” Jude glances around lazily, then back at him, “you seem… distracted by something—or is it someone?”
A ripple goes through the room. Shit! Nobody knows right? Did he see us? Jude wouldn’t, would he? In front of everyone?
Everyone feels it. Everyone knows this isn’t about class. This is a warning shot, and I’m already bleeding without being hit.
Evans forces a laugh. “Like I said, if you have business, you can schedule office hours like everyone else, Jude, you’re not above the rules here just because of your name.”
Jude’s smile widens just slightly. Predatory. “We both know that’s not true. Besides, lines bore me. And I hate waiting.” His gaze flicks to me again. Just long enough to make my pulse spike. Then he turns back to Evans. “But, if you insist, I’ve already seen what I needed to see. I’m all about visual confirmation of facts.” He raps his knuckles across the table. “Pretty isn’t she?”
Evans’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” Jude grins. “See you after.”
It’s a threat. Was he talking about me or someone else? And why does Evans suddenly look pale and why is he looking at Sandra? She’s in the front row, hates me, only has eyes for him, and tried to trip me twice last semester when turning my paper in. She said her foot slipped. Evans says not to make a scene considering her dads a massive donor to the school so I can’t in fact punch her but I want to every time she looks at him like she owns him.
Nice try. His mouth is mine.
Silence lingers as Jude exits the room, but I still feel his presence. I can’t exhale, not fully, I can’t take in air either, not now. Now it’s tainted with him and I swear as I try to pay attention for the next hour, I smell his cologne, and peppermint is stained on my very skin.
It’s like seven years never passed.
It’s like I never left.
And it’s like what he wanted to confirm was my presence in that room.
Which means…
He was looking for me.
No longer a ghost.
