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He’s so uncomfortable that it’s a real effort for me not to laugh. What the hell is he doing here, outside my apartment? This guy really is the definition of creep. The way he looked at me today, and now this? I shiver and run my hands over my arms. He might be the worst kind of predator—attractive, intelligent, with a smile that could charm the pants off a nun. It would have been easy for Karly to fall for him and never be able to see the disastrous results coming.
“I was in the area….” His voice trails off as his face shows resignation of the fact that there is nothing he can say to get him out of this. I don’t think watching him squirm will ever get old. How’s that hot seat feel? It’s only going to get worse.
“Dammit,” he curses, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel in frustration.
“Language, Professor Bain,” I chide softly. I lean forward so my arms are resting on the door frame of his car.
He runs a hand through his dark, unruly hair, his pale blue eyes darting around, and I can see the effort he’s putting forth to not look at me. Maybe he’s expecting me to be angrier than I am? That I’d be making more of a scene? But how can I be? This is perfect.
I never expected to have this kind of effect on him this early, and as creepy as he’s being right now, this is exactly what I want. I really thought I’d at least have to put in some sort of effort.
He finally speaks. “I wanted to check that you were okay.” His voice is quiet, and I’m confronted by how much I actually believe his words.
Don’t get dragged in, Zara. Thi
s is probably how he lured Karly, too. Acting all concerned and gentlemanlike. I want to pull his heart straight out of his chest, but there’re much better ways to handle men like him.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I laugh. I pretend his words don’t affect me, but they do. I’m not used to anyone outside of my family actually caring about me. I’m usually referred to as the lone wolf. With the exception of Karly and my brother, nobody knows me. I’ve never given anyone the chance. Not even Dillon. He’s seen glimpses of who I really am, but allowing anyone that close gives them the opportunity to hurt me.
“I had a feeling.” He shrugs, shaking his head as if he can’t put into words exactly what he’s doing. The sweat beading on his forehead and the slight tremor in his hands have me wondering if this really is out of character for him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here, and you obviously weren’t meant to see…”
“That you were spying on me?” I supply. “I can assure you, Professor Bain, I’m quite all right, and not in need of saving, or whatever it is that you’re doing here,” I protest. “I can only imagine what the dean would say if she found out about this. I’m not exactly sure, but I would think that showing up at a student’s home in the middle of the night with some sort of feeling could land even the most trusted professor in some serious hot water.” Start begging, Noah. The unintentional trap I’ve laid for him: It’s pure genius. I only wish I’d thought of it myself.
“Please, Zara. Can we keep this between us? I’m sorry….” He curses again, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn a ghostly white. I know the color well. I’m sure if I uncoiled my tightly wrapped hands, they’d match his perfectly.
I bite back a smile. I can’t help it; I’m amused, yet angered at the same time. How is it possible to feel both of these emotions simultaneously? Wanting to giggle and punch him in the face? I wish there were some manual to tell me which feeling I should have.
I’ve never seen a grown man so worked up before. His embarrassment is obvious, yet there’s something else I can’t put my finger on. Maybe genuine concern? But that can’t be the case. He hasn’t known me long enough to feel that way. He starts the engine and I step back, cross my arms over my chest, and attempt to keep my fists hidden from sight. I bite my lip and watch him put the gearshift into drive.
“Sure, Professor Bain,” I whisper, biting my lip. Releasing balled hands, my finger toys with the necklace that hangs around my neck, drawing his gaze once again to my breasts—a trick Karly taught me when we were teenagers trying to buy beer. Give a man an excuse to ogle your goodies and you’ve won without even having to try. I tilt my head and smile at him. “This will be our little secret, okay?” A secret that I’m going to use against you anytime I wish, I think to myself, inwardly rubbing my hands and cackling like a mad scientist.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. Hamilton,” he says nervously. He checks his blind spot, or to see if anyone else is watching our interaction, and sheepishly smiles.
I watch as he drives off, the car disappearing into the night. I stand on the road for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts before I head inside. The last thing I need is Dillon poking his nose around where it doesn’t belong. This is my fight.
—
Dillon has the bags on the counter and is unpacking the groceries when I walk into the kitchen.
“Who was that?” he asks, his brow furrowing as he tosses me a box of Cheerios. I put them in the cupboard above the refrigerator.
“Just someone who was lost,” I murmur, not wanting to meet his eyes.
He raises his eyebrows. “You were out there for a while.” His words sound more like an accusation than a mere statement.
“Yeah, well, he was crap at taking directions,” I respond defensively. Dillon is the last person I want involved. He’s decent enough, but his fuse is shorter than most. Dillon’s unpredictable and protective—especially when it comes to anything surrounding Karly’s death. Those two were close friends, Karly having been the one to introduce us. If he knew what I was planning, he’d have more than some advice for me; he’d put a stop to the whole thing or land himself in trouble. He loved Karly as much as I did. He’d want nothing more than for the prick responsible for her death to be brought to justice. Only he would be pissed if he knew that I was the one planning on holding that gavel.
He shrugs and puts the last of the shopping away. I feel bad about snapping at him, but my head is still with Noah. I take a small glass of juice and kiss Dillon good night, using a headache as an excuse to go to bed.
He’s disappointed, but he nods, pressing his mouth against mine. I follow the rhythm of the kiss, but my heart’s not really in it. It hasn’t been for a while now.
I’ve been with Dillon for almost two years, since I met him at a party Karly had thrown at her sorority house when they were just sophomores. We clicked right away. An instant connection, and it didn’t take long to discover we had more than just physical attraction in common.
Dillon’s a year ahead of me and takes his fraternity life very seriously, except for the whole living-in-the-frat-house thing. He likes his own space, much like I do. I can’t complain; without Dillon having his own apartment, Professor Bain might have had a reason to worry about my home life. I’m just happy about my arrangement. Even with our relationship being a little rocky right now…well, since Karly died, we seem to be getting along okay. We like the same sports; we both hate Chinese food and love watching action movies.
Being with Dillon has become harder over the last year, since Karly. The last Christmas we all spent together, we completed my application for Northwestern, as I was planning on attending this year anyway. I’d be able to transfer and have only two years left to complete. We had plans. We even looked at a bigger place that all of us could live in while we were getting started in life. Karly was going to teach and Dillon was going into advertising. That Christmas was the best. It seemed like everything was falling into place exactly how we’d imagined.
And then my perfect little world fell apart.
