“Hey, aren’t you the infamous Lily Calloway?”
He speaks loud enough that I see Lo’s head perk up. His eyes hit mine and they fill with concern.
“Are you deaf?” the guy laughs.
I meet his pretty green eyes and scan his blond hair, a twenty-something guy, tall with muscular arms. He sports a black and orange Princeton tee.
“I’m Lily,” I confirm. My eyes flicker past his body again. Lo is on his feet, but he hesitates towards reaching my side.
Is he still angry at me?
Oh jeez, we’re still in a fight, aren’t we?
My heart beats crazily, and I focus my attention back on the blond. “I’m also leaving.” I sidestep and he follows suit, trapping me to this spot in the hall.
I hear Lo’s shoes on the tile floor, and I try to relax.
“Why would you want to do that?” Blond Guy asks. “I heard that you love going down, and I’ve got something here for you.” He grabs my hand, and fear bobs my throat. Oh my God. I never thought this could happen in a hallway （slightly empty, albeit） during the middle of the day. Maybe he thinks I’m as wanting and easy as they say I am on the news. Maybe he believes I won’t care or fight him. That has to be it.
But I’m not that girl. Sure, I may have played into his advances a year ago, but now they literally curdle my stomach. I recoil and try to untangle from his strong hold, but he grips my hand and places it right on his pants.
Whatever I feel—it doesn’t last long because Lo grabs his shoulders from behind and throws his back into the wall.
I flinch, not accustomed to physical aggression from Lo, not even when he pinned Mason against my car. And he eases off the guy within a second, his eyes pulsing with something hot and black.
“This is why America invented the sexual offender registry, you sick fuck,” Lo spits.
“I didn’t touch her,” Blond sneers, the veins in his neck bulging. “Your slutty girlfriend was all over me.”
“I was not,” I snap, about to charge him myself. I don’t have nails, but I’m not below slapping.
Ryke grabs me, and I squirm, trying to go help Lo. “Lily, stop,” Ryke says, holding me tighter.
“You want your dick to be touched so badly, fine,” Lo growls, and he does something that causes me to pause, going quiet and motionless in Ryke’s arms.
Lo slams the guy again, his back digging further into the wall, and he puts his hand over the guy’s pants. The icky feeling I had for touching Blond vanishes. I’m not the only who did it. Though, Lo volunteered his hand.
Blond thrashes, and Lo must grip hard because his face contorts into a pained wince. “Get the fuck off me.”
“What? You don’t like it anymore?”
“I can sue you for harassment.”
“Let’s play that fucking game,” Lo replies. “Let’s see whose lawyers are better. I’m a goddamn Hale. My family eats shitty fucks like you for brunch. Don’t you ever force yourself on a girl, ever again.” Lo loosens his grip, and then he steps back from him. Blond hesitates to retaliate, but his eyes ping from Lo, to Ryke, to Connor, and he mutters a curse and retreats down the hall.
Ryke looks ready to run after him and take a swing.
Lo’s chest rises, his hands clenching and unclenching. I see Jonathan in his words and actions, and I know the same comparison must infiltrate his head. Sober Lo still does mean things, and I’m not sure what the right way to protect me was—or what I could have done to help. But I do realize how much he hates even the notion of turning into Jonathan Hale. And for sacrificing a large chunk of his heart to come to my aid, I am very, very grateful. What he just did for me—it wasn’t easy.
His eyes find me. I step forward and put my arms around him, wanting to hold him and thank him all in one swoop.
Drunk Lo wouldn’t have been here.
I’d either have to give into this guy’s advances, scream for help and hope that a Ryke Meadows was around, or try to find a way to fight off a six-foot guy.
Lo kisses the top of my head, and says, “Are you sure you don’t want a bodyguard? I can’t always be around you, Lil.”
I’ve contemplated it. The idea of a guy shadowing me is a little unsettling, but after this, it’s definitely safer. “Only if you want me to.”
“We can pick out someone who’s really ugly,” he offers with a small smile. It’ll make him feel better, and that matters a lot to me.
I nod. “Okay.”
I separate from Lo and hold up the manila folder to Connor, who has been staring at it in curiosity for the past couple of minutes. “All my exams,” I explain. “The professors don’t want me on campus anymore.” For obvious reasons. And right now, I don’t want to be here all that much either.