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“Don’t get bashful now.” Leaning forward, her breath tickling my ear, strands of her hair trying to attach to the stubble I can’t seem to get rid of, she softly states, “Deep down, you’re a softie.”
Soft is one thing I am definitely not with her this close to me, yet I can’t say that, so I choose another truth instead, one that applies to her words. “It appears only you bring it out in me.”
Willa doesn’t respond, though she does squeeze my hand, not caring that we’re getting looks as we amble toward class. I don’t either, except as it pertains to the boys watching her. Them, I bare my teeth at like a wild animal warning others away from its prize.
“Did you just growl?” Do I want her to know this early that I intend to be a caveman where she’s concerned? Probably best to ease her in to that.
Again, a different truth slips past my lips. “I didn’t eat breakfast, so I’m a bit hungry.”
“Oh no,” she mumbles, sounding truly distraught. “Here,” she adds, thrusting something toward me. It’s a Pop Tart, brown sugar cinnamon. Frosted no less.
“Normally I wouldn’t accept as it’s impolite to take a lady’s food, but that is my favorite flavor.”
“You’re not reaching for it,” she reminds me, catching on that I’m torn. I actually am hungry, not eating before leaving home because I was nervous about meeting her.
“You clearly brought it for you.”
Her eyes shift downward, her head moving as she works her way up from the floor until they eventually meet mine again. “I’ll be okay without it, trust me.” The same sound as before comes forward, this time much louder. “You just did it again.”
I back her up, not giving a shit that I’m forcing teenagers to move out of my way so they don’t get knocked over. All that matters is putting a stop to the garbage she just spewed. Only when she hits the wall behind her do I quit. Putting my face within inches of hers, I inform her, “Don’t.” She starts to ask what, but I interrupt her. “I’m not done. Don’t insult yourself. Don’t let others do it. You are fucking beautiful as you are.”
“But I don’t look like them,” she mumbles, tipping her head to indicate the snobby girls that are no doubt watching our exchange.
“Thank fuck for that. Why would you want to? They’re so fake they don’t even know what’s real anymore.” She attempts to refute my statements. “Deny what I say one more time and I’ll ensure that mouth is too busy to do so.”
Her cheeks heat, her feet shift from side to side. A twinkle in her eyes lets me know she’s thinking of intentionally doing just that, eager to see what I have in mind, but something stops her. And then she blows my mind and has me tempted to throw her over my shoulder and get her out of here. “I don’t want my first kiss to be here.”
“Me either,” I whisper, hoping she understands that I’m not agreeing with that only as it pertains to her. Confusion greets me in her expression, but her question is as clear as if she’d spoken it. It deserves verbal confirmation, not a movement that can be misunderstood. That’s when I hear a throat clearing behind me and reluctantly turn to see Torren there, tapping his ear as a silent reminder to click my unit back on and get our asses going. “To be continued, little one,” I promise her as I brush my nose against her cheek, dropping a quick peck to it.
I hide the action of resuming communication with my team as I step away, offering my other hand to Willa. Hoping she accepts it. When she does, I breathe a sigh of relief and guide her to our destination.
And for the rest of the day, I watch her, knowing it’s in both a personal and professional capacity, and finding that for once, I don’t give a shit that I’m not living up to my work nickname.
I mentally retract my sarcasm from last week, referring to her as a princess, believing she was spoiled and would embody the title. She’s so far from it it’s ridiculous. Yes, it’s clear she has the finer things that money can buy, but that’s not on her. Her parents can afford it and they purchase them for her. The earrings she wears are not diamonds, but instead silver, which she tells me is her favorite. That right there told me a lot about her character. Gold is more expensive, by a wide margin usually, yet she prefers the other. She doesn’t factor the cost in to it when she makes a decision regarding her attire.
Also, these texts scare her. When her phone vibrates during our final class, she tenses, shoulders hunching as if she’s trying to hide from it, fear skirting her face as she closes her eyes. I swear I hear her mumble a, “Please, don’t be it.” I want to swipe her cell off her desk, threaten the sender within an inch of his life if he doesn’t leave my woman the fuck alone, and hold her.
I hate like hell that I can do nothing but sit there.
Chapter Two
Willa
April 12th…
It’s been a week since Austin started attending Winfield, yet it feels as if I’ve always known him. We’ve spent a lot of time together, and not just at school. We haven’t gone to each other’s houses at this point, which is okay as I’m not sure either of us are ready for whatever doing so might mean. What we have done is go to the park – thankfully, it’s warm all year here – the library, a diner, a café, and for ice cream.
Throughout it all, I’ve noticed Torren and Clover’s presence isn’t as obvious. They’re still there, of course, but they’ve allowed some distance between them and myself and Austin. I can only assume it’s because they’re giving us some privacy, which I greatly appreciate, while being able to maintain a visual on me.
While that may not seem appropriate considering dad is paying them to watch over me, I think they’re aware that Austin will do whatever he can to keep me safe for the couple minutes it would take them to get to us. His build isn’t that of Torren’s, which I have no doubt would be at home on the football field, but leaner, his muscles more compact as opposed to in your face. The type people would brush off, assuming he wasn’t an equal match. And they’d be wrong.
I’ve observed him during a workout. He has power behind his hits, and a stamina that ensures his opponent will tire faster. It was…exhilarating. I had to casually glance at my reflection in my cell’s screen to make sure I wasn’t drooling.
I was. If you’d seen him, you would have been, too.
Scratch that. I’m glad nobody else was there. I might’ve had to put my lessons from Clover to real life use. I detest the thought of other girls seeing him.
“What put that look on your face?” Austin asks, bumping his shoulder against mine. Well, his bicep with my shoulder since he’s taller than me. We’re currently at the park and supposed to be doing our homework, though neither of us have cracked a book yet.
