1
YUKIO HINODE
I was goingto kill this fucking pathetic excuse for a human being.
Alexander—don’t call me Alex—smirked down at me over his shoulder, then slammed the classroom door in my face. I slapped the white cement-block wall. I’d been trying my best to ignore this asshole since I’d been admitted to New Gothenburg State last year as a sophomore when I’d transferred here from California. We’d just started this semester, and things had already gotten to the point where I was ready to flip shit.
The issue? Alexander fucking hated me.
The reason? Unknown.
To make things even better, we somehow shared every goddamned class, and we were on the same teams—basketballandbaseball.
He was a fucking curse.
With my blood boiling, I yanked open the door and stalked along the hall, barely seeing anything around me or feeling my books in my arms until I reached the glass doors that led outside. I made it into the fresh air, but the cool autumn breeze did nothing to calm me down. Alexander lumbered along the sidewalk in front of me. He was fucking huge—yeti tall—which attracted attention from everyone around him. People, especially girls, stopped to give him flirty smiles and longing looks.
I wanted to scream at each and every one of them that he was a waste of space.
Anger thumped in my temples and my heartbeat drummed in my ears. I threw my books to the sidewalk and tossed aside my book bag, not caring where anything landed. I rushed forward and shoved Alexander. He swung around to glare down at me, and when he focused on my face, a sick fucking smile twisted up the corners of his mouth.
“What is your problem, dickhead?” I snarled, poking his chest. He glanced down and seemed to take stock of the tattoos and solid metal rings on my fingers.
A few seconds passed while we glared at each other, then a sneer took over his face and he pushed me. I’d been expecting the retaliation and took a step back, moving with him so he didn’t get any leverage on me. I crossed my arms. The jerk blinked as if he’d expected me to sprawl out backward on my ass, but he hadn’t gotten up early enough to pull one over on me.
I laughed at him, making sure it was as obnoxious as possible, and his face flushed. He wasn’t unattractive, with a hard jawline and unusual, smoky gray eyes, but the way he acted made him disgusting.
“My problem—” He took a step toward me. “—is that you’re fucking ugly, and I’m sick of looking at you.” He gave me a smarmy smile that he really couldn’t pull off.
Snorting, I shook my head. “Tell me you’re jealous without telling me you’re jealous. Oh wait, you just did.” I rolled my eyes.
His face flushed a deeper shade of red, and I’d never felt so satisfied in my entire life.
“Now—” I planted my hands on my hips and winked at him. “—you could say I’m a smug prick, and I would agree with you.” I reveled in the way he bared his teeth, real delight creeping into my heart where it made me warm in a way that I knew was wrong—but I fucking loved. “People have been telling me I look good since I was born. I popped out of my mom, and they couldn’t get enough of me.”
Alexander opened his mouth, but I held up a finger, and to my complete amusement he snapped his lips together.
“No, no, I’m serious! My mom had me modeling baby clothes and shit. I did that crap until I was about ten and got sick of it. The camera loves this.” I flashed him my best toothy grin. “IknowI look good.”
Rage passed across his face, so of course, I tilted my chin and blew him a kiss.
He started toward me with his fists raised, and my blood pumped through my veins as the excitement of a good fight smacked my gut. My dad had always wanted me to be a boxer, and he’d made sure I knew a few moves. Finally, we were going to fucking do this.Yes!I widened my stance and got ready, but first I whipped my shirt off so he could get a good look at my tattoos while we duked this out. He hesitated when he took in some of my artwork—half of it wasn’t very pleasant, which still gave my mom fits.
My dad thought they were great.
“Come on,Alex. Don’t be afraid. I’m a foot shorter than you.” I stuck my tongue into the corner of my mouth and waggled my eyebrows, doing everything I could to get him to take the first shot, so I would have an excuse to give him a beatdown.
Alexander stomped in like Bigfoot and swung, but he was heavy fisted and didn’t move comfortably. All I had to do was back up to dodge the blow. He swung again, and this time he caught my side because his arms were long, but it was a bad hit and didn’t hurt much.
“Tennis players punch harder, dude.” I laughed and popped him on the jaw.
He stumbled backward, holding his face.
A piercing whistle stopped us. I sighed, dropping my hands as Professor Charbonneau ran across the grass past a couple of occupied stone picnic tables nearby. Everyone was staring at me and Alexander, so I waved, which got some laughter in return. The professor was a huge man—taller than Alexander—with brown hair that was longer on top. A silver streak on the left side gave him a distinguished presence. Yeah, Professor Charbonneau looked good, and I’d had a lot of time to stare at him because he taught most of the entry-level accounting courses I’d taken last semester. He knew both of us well.
I cringed inside. Just my fucking luck.Bending down, I snatched up my shirt, then put it back on while he glared at us. I grabbed my books and bag next while he sputtered and seemed to be trying to decide how he wanted to yell at us.
Alexander ducked his head and a brand-new red flush took over his face.
