This will have to do.
I skip down the stairs, since I’m only on the second floor, not bothering to take the old, iffy elevator. That thing breaks down more than it actually works.
When I enter the common room, I come to a stop when I see who’s leaning against the back of one of the old couches. His long legs are crossed at his ankles, and he’s still wearing his uniform, though he ditched the jacket just like I did.
Crew Lancaster.
He’s got his head bent, staring at his phone, his golden-brown hair tumbling across his forehead. The tie is gone too, a few buttons undone at the top, revealing the strong column of his throat. Offering a glimpse of his chest. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and my gaze drops to his forearms. They’re corded with muscle and dusted with golden hair and an unfamiliar, weird feeling starts to pulse low.
Between my legs.
I try to ignore the sensation as I watch Crew, sucking hard on the candy in my mouth. He’s not even doing anything but standing there, and he still exudes an authoritative aura.
Like he owns the place.
Which he does.
I lightly clear my throat and his head jerks up, his blue eyes meeting mine and I just stare at him.
His gaze drops to my lips, noting the lollipop stick, and I grab it, pulling the sucker from my mouth. “What do you want?” I ask him, my tone haughty, trying to hide the nervousness currently twisting my insides.
He pushes away from the couch and pockets his phone as he slowly approaches me. “You have a minute?”
I glance over my shoulder at the two RAs sitting behind the desk, neither of them paying any attention to us. It doesn’t matter. I want him to know I know they’re there, and they would come to my rescue if this guy so much as says one rude thing to me. “Sure.”
I follow him across the room until we’re both settling in overstuffed chairs that face each other, a low, round table in between us. There aren’t many other people in the room, so we have some privacy, though I’m sure it’ll go around campus by the morning that Crew and Wren were seen together, talking.
Crew and Wren. I never realized before how close our names are. That they share three letters. Hmm.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask when he still hasn’t said anything. He must use his silence to unnerve people, and it works.
Quite well.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studies me. “Just had an interesting chat with Skov.”
My eyes fall briefly shut with humiliation, and I plop the sucker back into my mouth. Could this day get any worse?
“I’m pissed at you, Birdy. She asked me if I’ve ever done anything inappropriate that would upset you so much. What the hell are you telling her?”
“Look, you don’t want to work with me—”
“You’re damn right I don’t, not if you’re going to tell teachers that I’m sexually harassing you or what the fuck ever you said to her.” His words are like bullets, piercing my skin.
“I never said that—”
“You implied it. That’s what I got from Skov, and I had to defend myself, without making you look like a flat-out liar.” He hesitates, his cold stare making me helplessly shiver. “Which you are.”
“I didn’t say you did anything inappropriate. I just told her you said vulgar and crude things.”
“Curse words. That’s it. I never said anything about wanting to fuck you.”
I’m taken aback at his fierce tone, and the words he just said. The dark way he skims his gaze over me. As if he actually might want to do—exactly that to me.
My mind takes me to a place I don’t want to be, like I can’t help myself. But really…what would it be like, to have this boy’s total attention? To have him look at me as if he actually cares, and not with so much hatred?
My gaze drops to his arms, the way his biceps strain against the white cotton fabric. What would it feel like, to have him hold me? Whisper sweet words in my ear—though he’s probably incapable of that.
I stare at his mouth, his lips. How perfectly shaped they are, with a slightly fuller lower lip. How would he kiss—soft and sweet? Or hard and fierce? I think of the books I’ve read, the movies I’ve watched, and imagine that first moment, the slow slide of his tongue against mine—
No. No, no, no. That is the very last thing I want.
“You said it just now,” I point out shakily.
He glares. “I didn’t mean it. Trust me, you’re the last girl I want to fuck.”