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I want to kiss him.
I want to fuck him.
I want to destroy him.
My chest heaves as I draw in deep breaths, my nostrils flaring as the rich, spicy scent of his aftershave overtakes my senses.
And maybe it’s the same for Gray. Maybe some of the chaos inside my chest has infected him too, because his jaw clenches hard as the malice in his eyes competes with lust that blows his pupils wide.
We hate each other, and I don’t even quite know why.
Just like I don’t understand why I still crave his touch.
But we have an audience, and I at least have some pride. So when he shoves me away, seeming to remember that fact too, I shove my arousal down like it’s bile in my throat and not a fire burning bright in the pit of my stomach.
He takes a step back from me, breathing just as hard as I am.
Like we’ve just fought a war and neither of us won.
“Remember what I said, Sparrow,” he breathes out, a warning in his voice. “Remember that you don’t belong here.”
10
It takes me a few minutes after Gray and his friends leave the closet to get my fucking limbs to work properly again.
This isn’t like me. I’ve dealt with bullies before. I’ve dealt with a lecherous foster father and kids who mistook me for easy prey.
I’ve dealt with my fair share of bullshit, and none of it has ever left me this shaken before. It’s like Gray can somehow reach inside my soul and flip a switch, turning on a floodgate of emotions I thought I’d shut down for good.
And after every encounter we have, I’m left trying to close that dam back up, to shove my emotions back down into the black hole where they belong.
It’s not getting easier with practice though. If anything, it’s getting harder—as if every time he bashes my walls down, they go back up weaker and weaker.
No. Nothing about me is weak. I can’t afford to let it be.
Gritting my teeth, I shove away from the shelves that are holding me up and stalk toward the door, letting it slam behind me as I leave the closet.
Max is chill about it when I raincheck on her for lunch. Turns out it actually is handy to have her number—I call her on my way over to the admin office to explain why I won’t be able to grab food today. I can’t exactly put off getting a replacement card. I won’t even be able to get into my damn dorm room without it.
“Drop by my dorm if you have trouble,” Max tells me after going off on a rant about what an asshole Gray is, which I gotta admit, I appreciate. “So you have somewhere to sleep.”
“Yeah, I will. Thanks.”
I actually mean it this time. Normally, my instinct in all situations is to keep everyone around me at arm’s length. But I like Max. She’s the first person I’ve felt this sort of kinship with since Jared. And besides, I’m starting to realize Hawthorne University isn’t the kind of place where I can afford to throw away a possible friendship.
“Good luck,” she says.
“Thanks.” I let out a humorless laugh. “I have a feeling I’ll need it.”
I hang up and shove the phone into my messenger bag, picking up my pace as I near the admin building.
All I can say is, Gray Eastwood is lucky I’m not a narc and not stupid enough to think that even if I was, someone would actually do something about him stealing my shit. As it is, when I walk into the admin office, I have my head held high despite the fact that I’m ready to fight if I so much as catch sight of Gray.
“Hey, I need a new key card,” I tell the woman behind the desk. She’s the same one I dealt with on Friday, but I’ve already forgotten her name. “I seem to have misplaced it.”
The secretary looks up at me, a smile on her face until she sees who I am. Her expression falls, and a flicker of agitation reflects behind her glasses.
“Did you set up an appointment?”
