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“Funny,” she says with a breezy smile. “Professor Segul awarded me a first.”
“I distinctly remember your assignment not even meriting a third,” he says. “Both of you leave this hallway, and spread the words to your fellow students not to pester me about grades.”
He disappears into his office and shuts the door. The locking mechanism turns, telling me he’s in no mood to be disturbed.
“What a dick,” she mutters.
I turn on my heel and continue down the hallway toward the stairs.
“Hey, you,” she says.
My steps falter, but I force my pace to remain even. “What?”
“Why does he let you in his office and not me?”
“I don’t know,” I say without thinking. “Maybe because I hand in better assignments?”
“Or you could be licking his banana.”
“You wish.” The playground-grade defense tumbles from my lips. Partly because her accusation is truer than she could ever imagine, but mostly because I’m a shitty liar with pale skin that broadcasts my every emotion.
“Hey.” She grabs my arm.
I channel all my anger into a hard shove that has her tumbling toward the wall. While she’s breaking her fall, I disappear down the stairwell.
This probably marks the start of a vendetta between me and all the girls even vaguely associated with Uranos, but fuck it. The only thing I now have left to lose is my degree.
Blood roars between my ears, drowning out the echo of my feet as I race down the stairs and out through the fire exit. Not even the manicured gardens or the fresh, sea breeze can cool my blood.
Fuck Professor Segul, fuck the Grace cousins, fuck everyone who messes with me. I’m going back to my apartment.
My feet stomp the gravel paths, creating a satisfying crunch that makes a melody combined with my rapid pulse.
Professor Segul is the worst kind of human. He’s even worse than Dad. At least Dad was a consistent bastard. He never treated me like I was special, so when the insults fell, they were with dull blows instead of the slice of a blade.
So the professor doesn’t think I’m a whore. And he remained silent while the other man said I was because he wanted him out of the way. That part makes sense, especially when he explained that the money was a gift.
But the other part?
“You no longer hold my fascination,” I say in a Mr. Darcy voice. “Who the fuck talks like that?”
My jaw clenches. “Wanker.”
“Phoenix,” shouts a male voice from several feet away.
I glance over my shoulder to find Veer sprinting toward me wearing skinny jeans and a patchwork denim vintage jacket with lapels that bounce up and down with each step.
My nostrils exhale a gust of disbelief. “Great, another harbinger of rejection,” I mutter. “All I need is Dad to show his face and my life will be complete.”
Turning around, I continue down the path that leads to the apartment block. It’s rude to turn my back on him, but I’m not in the mood to speak to men who have sex with women before informing them that they’re unavailable.
His long arms reach around my waist and lift me off my feet.
“What the hell?” I yell, making everyone in a hundred-foot vicinity turn to look in our direction.
“You’re my lucky charm.” He puts me down and presses an alcohol-scented kiss on my cheek.
I place my palm on his shoulder and hold him at an arm’s width. “Are you drunk?”
