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“I saw you with King today.”
Josie lifted an unbothered brow. “Yeah?”
My fingers clutched into a fist. “I told you to stay away from him, I know you heard me.”
Josie finished off her milk, slowly, turning her back to me while she washed the dish and put it in the cabinet. When she turned around, she looked annoyed that I stood there.
“What?” she asked. “I know you heard me tell you that I wasn’t afraid of you anymore. If I want to hang around King, I will.”
She openly defied me, something she never did in high school, and unfortunately, for her, thebad guythat lived within me ate that shit up. I chuckled—humorlessly—and took a step toward her. She didn’t flinch.
Her pouty mouth lured me in like a siren at sea. God—I wanted to kiss her. Then I looked at her hazel eyes and remembered. And it all came crashing down.
“You won’t,” I whispered, taking another step toward her. She backed away, her backside hitting the counter behind her. “You won’t do anything I tell you not to do.”
Josie lifted her chin. “I don’t need your permission. I’ll screw him if I want.”
Hearing her pretty mouth say that word caused my jeans to tighten. I knew her virginity was still intact. No guy in high school dated her—because of me. I wanted her to feel ostracized as I had.
Nothing would change. “He doesn’t want you,” I spit out. “No one does.”
I hated the hurt look that traveled across her face. “I guess we’ll see,hmm?” she said quietly, tilting her head before grabbing the carton of milk behind her.
“I’m warning you,” I bit out.
Josie turned on her heel. “I told you that won’t work anymore. I’m not your little puppet, your little submissive that you can abuse. I hate everything about you, Maverick. I hate that you’re at LSU, and I hate that I have to stay here. However, I won’t let you bully me anymore. I’m not going to graduate without having experiences and dare I say it, fun! If that includes a boy or the entire football team,excluding you, it won’t be up to you!”
The hate in her eyes drove my blood wild—the heat inside of me boiled—and I found myself stepping toward her, trapping her against the counter and myself. Josie’s breathing halted, her eyes widened and she shoved against my chest to no avail.
“Don’t touch me,” she whispered, her braveness slowly leaking out like a punctured balloon.
I chuckled, even though I felt out of control on the inside. Lowering my mouth to her ear, I whispered, “When I touch you …you’ll beg me for more.”
Josie’s bottom lip quivered and I felt myself gripping the edge of the counter beside her until my knuckles turned white. I wanted to kiss her …dammit, I wanted to demolish her mouth, show her what I could do for her right on the kitchen floor.
Instead, I stepped back, letting her hate for me grow like wildfire. I needed her hate to keep me in check. To keep me in my right mind. If I gave in and kissed her, I wasn’t sure I’d hate her anymore, and that scared the little kid inside of me.
Chapter Five
Josie
My fingers clutched around the to-go coffee as I paced myself through campus toward my first lab class. I’d hardly slept through the night after what happened with Maverick.
The fine line between hate and want taunted me. It never had before. Our relationship stood far from what happened in the kitchen the night before. Maverick’s bullying had always been just that. I almost felt delusional to think that it could be anything else.
We weren’t in third grade when a guy pulled your hair because he liked you.
I hadn’t met Maverick until ninth grade, fourteen years old when guys normally pulled your ponytail and smirked, not tripped you or shoved you into lockers.
Sighing, I took another long sip of my macchiato. Both Jordan and Maverick had been gone when I got up. Not that I’d slept well in the first place. The only sign Maverick had been there was the scent of his soap he left behind in the shower.
My computer lab sat in a three-story building that the technology classes shared with the art department. My fingers itched for my first art class later that day, which got me through high school. However, I wasn't good enough to earn a scholarship, and my parents didn't think it was anything other than a hobby.Thank God for mandatory electives.
Graffiti art didn’t land you in art museums as traditional art did, plus, I needed somethingsoundas my mother called it.
Being early, I found myself roaming the halls, drawn to a bulletin board on the first floor.
Writing Tutors Wantedcaught my eye.
