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They do a mixture of what both groups had done before, shaking their heads and shoving rude comments my way. Of fucking course. There’s only one group left… and that’s Parker’s group. Turning on my heels, I walk over to him, coming to a halt right in front of his table. I’m so close, I can smell his aftershave, clean and spicy. The scent goes straight to my head for a moment and my mouth waters. I want to kick myself for enjoying the smell, for even thinking of him in any way other than a monster. Swallowing down the thought, I hold on to the anger instead.
“I’m guessing you have something to do with this?” I question through my teeth.
Carrying on with his conversation with Warren, Parker completely ignores me. Asshole.
“Did you want me to be part of your group, is that it?” I ask, growing more irritated with him by the second.
He finally stops talking to Warren, but only long enough to turn toward me and say, “No, I don’t want you here, and neither does anyone else, I thought that much was obvious?” His dark brow lifts in question, and my mouth pops open to respond, but before I can get a word out, he’s talking again. “Shut your mouth. I wouldn’t want you to dig yourself a deeper hole, so move along… no one wants you here, least of all me.”
He dismisses me like I’m some kind of servant and turns back to Warren, who I see out of the corner of my eye is grinning from ear to ear. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. He’s a god here, and I’m a mere mortal. I’ve basically been exiled.
Fuming, I stomp back to my seat and flop down in it. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare straight ahead. Like a pouting child, I ignore the laughing and giggling within the room that is no doubt at my expense. I hate him. I hate him so much. Not just because of who he is, or our pasts. No, I literally hate him. I want to hurt him the same way he’s hurting me.
After a few minutes, Dr. Dawson looks up from his computer, and I already know what’s going to happen next. His eyes scan the room and of course, come to land on me immediately.
“You need to find a group,” he orders, his voice low, leaving no room for argument.
“I work best on my own,” I snap back.
“Too bad, this class requires a group assignment. Find a group or fail the class.” He shrugs.
“I guess I’ll be failing then,” I grit out through clenched teeth while gathering my stuff. What did Parker expect? That I would get on my knees and beg him? Fat chance. Just as I get done shoving my things into my bag, I hear Parker’s thick chuckle behind me. It’s heavy and leaves a warmth in its wake.
“Don’t be so dramatic. You can be in our group,” Parker offers, and I’m half tempted to turn around and toss my textbook in his face.
“There you go,” Dr. Dawson claps his hands together, “go sit with your group and start going over your assignment. You’ve wasted enough time.”
Fucking asshole. Grabbing my stuff, I turn around and walk over to Parker’s table. I’d rather eat glass than deal with him right now, but if I fail this class, I can’t imagine what my father will do to my sister.
It’s one class. One class, Willow. Shoving into a seat one over, so I’m not too close to Parker, I open the textbook and read over the assignment on enzymes- function, kinetics, and mechanism. The words alone give me a headache.
“I’ll do part one, Warren part two, and you can do the rest,” Parker says all matter of fact. This just keeps getting better and better. I open my mouth to protest being given sixty percent of the work when the classroom door flies open, interrupting me.
Looking up, I find yet another familiar face entering the room. Nate. Just when I thought my mood couldn’t sour any further, he walks in. Nerves root me in place, and I feel like I might throw up.
Nate and Parker have been friends forever, but their friendship pales in comparison to the one he has with Parker’s brother, Brett. An involuntary shiver ripples through me at the thoughts assaulting me. I never liked Nate. There was a time—two years ago, to be exact—when I actually liked Parker and Brett, but after everything that happened… Yeah, no. Not going there. Even as I stare down at the textbook, I can feel Nate’s dark gaze roaming over me. He’s always given me the creeps. I guess the Rothschild brothers were better at hiding their fuck up.
Not surprisingly, Nate comes and sits with us, and the teacher doesn’t even make a comment about his tardiness.
