I keep my eyes forward as I say, “You’ve just stepped in shit.”
He laughs, and the sound catches me off guard because it is real… unguarded, nothing like his usual fake ones.
“Is that your attempt at making me look away from your beautiful face?” he asks. “Because that was a poor effort, and frankly, you can do better.”
I ignore him, because at this point, there’s little else left to do.
Chapter 23
Octavia
The main building appears ahead. I take the steps two at a time, trying to put distance between us, but he reaches the door first and holds it open. I brush past him without a word.
He follows.
“No manners at all,” I hear him say.
“Not where you’re concerned,” I reply.
I take another flight of stairs and finally reach my classroom. I head straight for my seat, drop my bag, pull out my sketchbook, pencils, and charcoal, then set my coffee on the desk.
Markev sits down beside me, which now appears to be his seat.
At first, I tried changing places in every class. I also tried getting him to move. Neither worked. All it earned me was a trip to the dean, which is absurd in itself.
The lecturer enters, gives a brief overview of today’s project, then settles at his desk.
I start working immediately, my pencil moving across the page as my focus narrows to the task in front of me.
A strand of hair slips forward, and before I can brush it back, Markev’s fingers do it for me, his knuckles grazing my cheek.
I freeze.
I turn my head slowly in his direction.
His icy eyes are fixed on mine. He leans closer, his presence crowding my space until there is barely room to breathe. I catch the scent of cigarettes and warm spice.
He lowers his mouth to my ear.
“Your concentration face,” he murmurs. “That thing you do with your lip, the way you bite it. It’s my favourite.” He pauses for a moment. “You’re so damn kissable and… cute.” He scoffs,clearly unimpressed that the word even left his mouth. “It makes me want to ruin it. Have your focus solely on me.”
A traitorous pull gathers low in my stomach, and I curse myself for it.
I don’t move.
Again, I don’t think I’m breathing.
He lingers there, so close my skin seems to hum, as though I’ve been pulled into a current I never stepped into willingly.
Push him away!
A throat clears, and I look up. The interruption makes Markev pull back and turn toward the sound.
“Octavia?” It’s Ricardo, one of the students. “I… uh… could I borrow some charcoal?” he asks. “I forgot mine.”
Before I can answer, Markev moves.
His chair slams back as he stands, grabbing Ricardo by the collar and hauling him up so fast his feet barely touch the ground.
