He leans in slightly, voice dropping. “Most people don’t question me like that.”
“I’m not most people,” I snap back.
“I can see that.”
He smirks and my pulse kicks again, traitor that it is.
I set the ID between us on the carpet. “Why are you here, Justin?”
He watches me for a long second before answering. “Maybe I wanted to check on a student who keeps putting herself in precarious situations.”
“That’s not your job.”
“You don’t know what my job is.”
“I know what you say it is.”
He lets out a quiet huff of laughter. “And you think I’m lying.”
“Are you?”
He doesn’t look away. “Sometimes.”
The honesty lands sharper than any lie could have.
I snap my laptop shut. “I have work to do.”
“Rowan.”
I look at him.
“For the love of all that’s holy,” he growls, voice steady, “try to stay out of trouble.”
I cross my arms against my chest, defiant. A sudden chill slides down my spine.
He sees it. His jaw tightens.
“I don’t need you hovering over me,” I say.
“Everyone needs something,” he replies. “Some people just refuse to admit it.”
There’s no judgment in his tone. Just fact.
And the worst part is that he’s right.
He stands, brushing his hands on his jeans, indicating the conversation is over. “Don’t stay here past dark.”
“Why?”
He smiles—but there’s no warmth in it.
“You really want me to answer that?”
No. I don’t.
He turns to leave, then pauses, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Bad things happen to good people in the dark.”
