“Oh, please,” she scoffs, “like I don’t know you’re here, busting yer arse and trying to be perfect and uplift the family name? How you have to be the best in everything?”
“It’s not…” I flounder. “We all try to be the best.”
“Not the way you do. Like you’re going to burst into flames if you’re not at the top of the class.”
It should have been you.
“I’m going to bed,” I drain my glass of wine. “The first day is always a hellscape, you know that.”
Willow’s so pretty, a blonde, surfer girl with a deep tan, even in the dead of winter. She’s frowning at me, and I hate the concern I’m feeling from her. She’s a smartass, the life of the party. She shouldn’t be worried. Not about me.
Hugging her back just as hard, I whisper, “Everything’s fine. I promise. You don’t have to worry about me. However, me kicking your ass again in sniper rifle targeting? That you should worry about.”
“I take it all back, you’re a terrible person and deserve to suffer!” Willow smacks my arm affectionately. Of course, she was raised with brothers so her idea of a friendly smack nearly knocks me into the couch, but at least she’s smiling again.
“This is going to be a great year,” I tell my reflection in the mirror, pulling my hair up into a high ponytail. “A wonderful year with my friends.”
“This is going to be a fantastic year,” I tell Willow on the way down to breakfast.
“This is going to be the best year ever!” I tell Lucca and Tatiana, walking to the Armory.
“Welcome students. I’ll be your weapons instructor this year. Cormac MacTavish.” He’s standing in front of the cluster of students, wearing a tight black t-shirt and cargo pants. His gaze moves to each student as if memorizing them and freezes when he lands on me. I feel the polar chill of it from ten feet away.
You havegotto be fucking kidding me.
This year is going to be so bad.
Chapter Six
In which there are awkward conversations.
Cormac…
“Miss Chandler, a moment please.”
She halts as soon as I say her name, her back stiff. The other students eye her curiously though no one is stupid enough to linger. When the room is empty, she visibly steels herself and turns around.
“This is my third year here and I’ve never seen you before,” Mala says sharply. “I thought you were a businessman?”
Folding my arms, I lean against one of the ammunition cabinets. “I wouldn’t have fucked you if I’d known you were a student here,” I say coldly. “I should have known you were too young when you tiptoed out of my place instead of being adult enough to say goodbye.”
She’s torn between fury and embarrassment and I watch the pink flush light up her skin. Christ, she’s beautiful. Why did she have to be a student?
“Yeah, the whole ‘No last names, no backstory’ was a huge mistake,” she snaps.
“Regardless, I am your professor and nothing will happen again.” I must be cold and stern. Set the standard now.
“Oh, trustme,” she’s nearly purple with rage. “Nothing isevergoing to happen.”
“I know,” I say impatiently, “I just said that.”
“No, I said that! Not a damn thing.”
“Exactly.”
“Fine!” Mala spins, striding out of the shooting range.
I let out a low groan, rubbing the back of my neck. I haven’t stopped thinking about Mala since waking up that morning to blood on my sheets and my cock. She couldn’t have been a virgin. She wouldn’t have jumped into my bed so enthusiastically.
