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During the discussion, Kevin, now being completely ignored, crossed his arms and openly frowned at the teacher. I was more than a little annoyed to realize I was doing the same thing.
The conversation appeared to be ending. Kevin started to walk away, and Emmy turned to follow him when the teacher reached out to touch her arm.
Anger sat like acid in my gut as his hand lingered there. Every instinct urged me to storm over there like a charging bull and tear his fucking arm off, but even I recognized that would be a bit of an overreaction.
The teacher must have said something funny to her because Emmy replied with a broad grin, making me want to smash my fist through his face. Was he flirting with her? Predatory fucker.
Kevin and Emmy walked toward me, now engaged in their own conversation. I was still seeing red from the professor and now I had to deal with this asshole.
“So, are you going?” Kevin asked as they got within earshot.
“Um, yeah, I think so. Delaney already mentioned it.”
“Cool! I’ll see you there,” he said, excitement making his voice pitch higher. All thoughts of the teacher fled as I contended with the fact that Emmy was going somewhere with Kevin.
I stepped forward, the scowl on my face genuine and not just there to scare this little shit. “Hey, you’re late,” I grunted. She was, but only by about five minutes. I was being a dick.
Emmy’s eyes widened in surprise, and she pulled out her phone to check the time. “Not really. Not by much.”
As if sensing our tension and wanting to create some friction, Kevin jumped in. “Hey, that’s my fault, man. I was asking Emmy a few questions about a piece we’re working on—I play classical guitar. Then I was asking about the party we’re going to this weekend.”
This motherfucker. Like I wouldn’t notice how much he’d said the word we in that little monologue. Didn’t he realize I could literally kill him with my bare hands? I also saw the real reason they were late was the little chat with their teacher.
“Oh, you two are going out together this weekend?” I asked mildly, pinning him with a stare that had been known to make men wet themselves.
A look of surprise crossed over his features, as if he was finally seeing who I really was, and it unnerved him. As it fucking should.
“Uh, well, no, we’re not going together. I meant we were attending the same party, with different people. In fact, you’re probably going with her, right?”
I had no idea what the fuck party he was talking about, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. “That’s right. If Emmy goes to a party, I go with her. Got it?”
He shot Emmy a look laced with concern but started to slowly walk backward. “Uh, yeah, totally. I gotta go. See you, Emmy,” he blurted out, then started jogging in the opposite direction.
Emmy pursed her lips. “Was it necessary to scare him like that?”
I raised my hands up in innocence. “I didn’t do anything.”
She shot me a dry look. “You know what you did. I’m surprised he didn’t start crying.”
I smirked. I reached inside my jacket and pulled out a small bag of pretzels. She’d mentioned one time that she was always starving at the end of orchestra and like a fucking dope, I’d been unable to resist bringing her a snack. “Here.”
Her eyes widened with pleasure as she took the bag. “Oh my god, thank you.” She was looking at me like I’d given her a fucking kidney instead of a bag of pretzels.
“What’s this about a party?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, yeah, that. Laney is insisting that we go to this frat party tomorrow night,” she said, shooting me a quick look to appraise how I was receiving this information. I was not receiving it well.
“A frat party? Are you kidding me?”
“You don’t have to go. There will be lots of people there, and I’ll be there with Laney and probably her boyfriend, so I’ll be safe—”
I stopped and grabbed her arm, my stomach knotting at the idea of Emmy at the mercy of a bunch of dickhead frat brothers, not to mention Orlov, without me there.
“Don’t have to go? No. No fucking way are you going out without protection—we talked about this. Are you planning to drink?”
“I don’t know, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Maybe? I mean, this is my first college party, Ivan. I want to have fun!” she implored.
I wanted to shake her for being so naive. Didn’t she realize all the shit that happened at these kinds of parties, aside from all this shit with Orlov? She was beautiful and sexy and brilliant, and those guys were fucking vultures. However, another part of me understood her wanting to have a typical college experience. Wanting to go out with her roommate, dance to stupid songs, and get wasted.
