"You want to break my nose, go for it," I say. "But you’ll have to get close."
She bares her teeth. "Is that what you want? For me to touch you?"
"Yes," I say. "But not for the reason you think."
She snorts, rolls her eyes, but her breathing is off. Not scared—charged.
"What do you want?" she says, voice low.
"To see if you’re as tough as you pretend," I say. "Or if you’ll shatter when I touch you."
She holds my gaze for a long time. Doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away.
"Maybe you should try it," she says.
I step closer, until our bodies are almost flush. She doesn’t move.
I reach up, grab a wet strand of her hair, twist it around my finger. Her pulse jumps in her throat, but she doesn’t pull away.
"You can walk out," I say. "But then you’ll always wonder what happens if you stay."
She grits her teeth. "Or maybe I just want you gone."
I let go of her hair. Trail my hand down her jaw, thumb tracing the cut of her cheekbone.
Her voice shakes. "If you touch me again, I’ll scream."
I laugh. "No, you won’t. You’re not afraid of me. You should be, but I can see you’re not. Which begs the question, how is it that you can stare me down, but refuse to look those prissy girls in the eyes? Huh? Why is that?"
She says nothing, but I see it in her eyes. She’s burning with a flame that’s about to spark out of control.
I lower my hand, let it rest on her hip.
She tries to shove past me. I catch her by the wrist, not hard, just enough to keep her there.
"Let go," she says.
I do, but not before dragging my thumb across her pulse.
She stares at me, chest heaving, lips white where she’s bitten them.
"I can go to the Dean—" she starts.
I cut her off. "No one would believe you. That’s the point of Westpoint."
She knows I’m right.
She snatches her shirt, pulls it on, grabs her bag. As she passes, she leans in so close I feel her breath in my ear.
"I’m not scared of you because I’ve seen little boys in big boy skin before," she whispers. “And you’re just a tiny little gnat, trying to earn some kind of attention from daddy, aren’t you? Now leave me the fuck alone.”
She storms off, not pausing for a backwards glance and I’m left with a hard-on and thoughts of pulling her over my knee and making her realize she doesn’t hold the winning hand here.
I do.
Chapter 3: Eve
AfterIleavelockerroom, I keep moving. If you stop, even for a second, that’s when they get you.
