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Nobody is hurting me. That’s the truth.I hit enter before looking over at him from across the tops of our screens. His eyes move back and forth, and he nods slightly before glancing up at me.
So you’re safe? You’re not afraid or anything?
Not even a little bit, I reply, then I add a smiley emoji to make sure he understands. My dad is really strict. Zeke is only trying to do his job and make sure I’m safe. We’re trying to work things out and kind of compromise. But it’s a little shaky.
That’s good. So your dad trusts that guy?
Posey and Zoe are talking about something, and I know I should be paying attention, but for some reason, it seems important to convince Dean he has nothing to worry about. A hundred percent, and I do, too. As I said, we’re working it out. Things should be easier from now on.
I hope so, he replies. I don’t want to have to kick that guy’s ass for you. But I’ll do it.
It’s almost cute that he thinks he could. Dean isn’t scrawny—not even close. He has a muscular build, but it’s more athletic, whereas Zeke has been working in security in one way or another for years. He’s been training with that in mind all this time. His body isn’t built for sprinting down a field or swimming faster than everybody else. He’s built to bruise, to break. To eliminate, maybe, but I can’t imagine a situation like that ever coming up.
He’s built for a lot of other things. Heat creeps up my neck and threatens to spread over my face. There’s new warmth in my pussy, too, and I’m starting to get wet right here in the middle of class. Not now. I can’t think about this right now. I’ll have to wait until later when I’m alone.
Thanks. I don’t think it will come to that, but I appreciate it. Believe me, none of this is worth fighting over.
Says you, he replies. Remember. I’m always here, anytime. Day or night. And if you need help, say the word. I look up to find him watching me, wearing a tiny smile. I smile back. It’s nice knowing somebody cares that much. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like somebody actually cares about me for me. Not because it’s their job or because they feel obligated the way Dad does. And not because Dean wants to own me, either. It’s just because he likes me.
“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Zeke mutters after class when I reach him in the back of the room. It’s the first actual sentence he’s uttered since that night. I should’ve known it would have something to do with Dean.
“Why does it have to be any of your business? And hi, I’m glad to know your voice still works.”
He stares around me in Dean’s direction. I nudge him. “Could you stop? Please. This is ridiculous.”
“I don’t like that guy.”
“Yes, I know. You’ve made that clear. But I don’t remember asking for your opinion, either. Come on.” I give him another nudge, this time trying to direct him toward the door. The rest of the class is moving around us, oblivious. Zeke has kind of blended in now. Everybody expects to see us together.
He won’t stop staring across the room—and what’s worse, when I look over my shoulder, I see Dean staring right back. For a second, I can’t help but think he would be dangerous in the right—or wrong—situation. When he realizes I’m looking, though, that feeling goes away along with the cold look in his eyes. Like I imagined it in the first place.
Maybe I’m getting off on this a little bit. I can admit it. A guy out there wants to fight for me, and not because somebody is paying him to. How refreshing.
“I’m sorry you don’t like him,” I say to Zeke, “but he is my partner on this project. And eventually, we’re going to have to get together to go over our presentation. You’re going to have to live with that.”
“Just keep him away from me,” he growls, sliding on his aviators. “Because I can’t promise I’ll behave myself if he pisses me off.”
Great. Here I am, stuck between these two, and both of them have the wrong idea about the other one.
“I’m going to wipe that smirk off his face one of these days,” he vows. “Just wait and see.”
I wish he didn’t sound deadly serious when he says it. How am I supposed to keep playing both sides? Eventually, I’ll have to choose one.
“Would you fight him?” I have to ask. “I mean, for real. Would you risk getting yourself into trouble over that?”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.
His silence is answer enough.
And the thing is… if they do fight, I’m not sure which one I’d want to win.
