Page 81

The Stalker

Hart

I smirked behind the neck gaiter as I kept pace with Vera. She made it her mission to outpace me, but she was a foot shorter and would have to break into a jog—even then, she couldn’t get away from me.

“I can’t believe you did this,” she muttered as we ventured through the quad, weaving through students.

“Whatever happened to liking me watching your back on campus, huh?” I teased, reminding her of our conversation in Toronto.

“I was being facetious! We aren’t sharing our locations any longer.”

“That’s non-negotiable.”

Vera snorted and pulled her baseball cap lower.

“You know… I wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint your exact location if you hadn’t included every detail about where you’d be at any given moment. Once I was on campus, it only took me a few minutes to locate The Halley Innovation Hall.”

“God forbid I’m organized. But don’t worry. I won’t make that mistake again,” she drawled. I could feel her rolling her eyes behind her designer sunglasses.

Vera yelped when I grabbed her backpack strap and dragged her off into an alcove, pushing her into the building’s brick wall. She wrestled out of my grasp, and I allowed her to shove me away.

“Alright. We’re alone now. Go ahead and cuss me out so we can eat. I have to return to the barn by 5:00, and I got shit to do.”

“Whhhyyyyyy are you here?”

“I wanted to take you to lunch.”

“On campus, though?” she asked, sounding slightly distressed. I shrugged casually.

“I thought it would be convenient for you.”

“Convenient for me?” she said in disbelief, slamming her hands on her hips. “How about making it discreet for me? That’s what we agreed on.”

“I am being discreet,” I replied, motioning towards my attire.

She took a step closer.

“I’m sorry, but nothing about you right now is discreet. You look like you have an assault rifle stashed somewhere, and we should be running for cover.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes behind my sunglasses.

“Forty-seven minutes.”

“You’re not taking me seriously,” she mumbled, tapping at her phone screen. My phone buzzed with an incoming message. I checked my phone and raised a brow.

“Are you serious, Verydian?”

“Don’t make me double it,” she threatened.

I pocketed my phone after ignoring her transfer request for a $2,500.00 Bullshit Fee, grabbed her backpack straps, and shook her gently. I smirked when she giggled.

“You think tormenting me like this is funny? You think you can fuck me like you did last night, and I was going to let you breathe?” I asked, still shaking her.

“You are beyond down bad,” she teased.

“That makes two of us.”

“Speak for yourself, Hartford.”