“Enough,” I say again as I spin Jackson around back in the direction I came. He trips a bit before he rights himself. “My office, Mr. Ellis.”
He yanks his arm out of my hold, picks up his bag off the floor, and stalks off down the hall ahead of me.
With one last look back, I arch a brow. “I’m sure you boys have a class to get to?”
They all nod, and I don’t miss the sly smirk on Pierce’s face as he turns away. Shaking my head, I follow Jackson down the hallway. He’s already waiting outside my locked door with his arms crossed over his chest by the time I catch up. His eyes are turned down, his jaw ticking.
I unlock my door and step inside, closing it as soon as he’s followed me through. He remains silent as I round my desk to stand behind it, still not looking up.
“Nothing to say for yourself?”
“What does it matter? You’re not going to believe me anyway.” Finally, he peers up, his gaze hard just like it’s been every other time he’s looked at me these last few weeks. “Or maybe you would and wouldn’t give a fuck.”
“Watch it,” I tell him, my voice coming out low and menacing.
I swear I see a shiver go through him.
Placing my bag in my chair, I lean over with my palms on my desk, not taking my eyes off him. “I don’t want to see you in my class for the next week.”
“What?” He drops his arms to his side. “I’m already behind from my last suspension.”
“Then you should’ve thought of that before getting into another fight on campus.”
He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.
“Would you rather me report you again?” I ask, raising one brow in a challenge. “The punishment for repeat offenders who engage in physical altercations on campus is usually expulsion. Possibly criminal charges. How far do you think your father’s reach goes? Do you really want to test it?”
His shoulders slump, and I almost feel bad for him. Almost.
When he says nothing, I take that as acceptance.
I’m not stupid. I know Pierce was the one to instigate those fights, even without having seen how they started. It figures myluck is so fucked that I’d walk in on both damn fights. I wish I could do the right thing, but I’m backed into a fucking corner here.
Icankeep this from turning into a similar situation as five years ago so long as I keep my head and continue to hold onto this emotional distance I’ve forced myself into.
Jackson is not Dylan. While Dylan had blond hair, Jackson’s is inky black. While Dylan had big brown eyes, Jackson’s are an emerald green. I have to believe they’re dissimilar in other ways too. I tell myself those differences matter, that they’ll keep me from repeating the same mistake.
Even still, I find myself attracted to him. I have for a while. To his gorgeous smile, his brilliant mind, his desire to learn.
But, now, I fear that attraction would lead me once more into a dark pit, one I wouldn’t be able to climb out of a second time.
I can’t feel bad. I can’t feelanything.
“I want you to write another paper for me too.”
“I’m going to start falling behind in my other classes with all this extra work.”
Again, I raise a bow, daring him to argue one more time.
He takes a breath, letting it out through his nose like a bull wanting to charge. “What’s the assignment this time?”
“How about an analysis on the consequences of pride in Gilgamesh?”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Am I going to get extra credit for this one too?”
My jaw clenches, and my eyes narrow. Of course he had to see.
“Not this time.”
