“Barely,” he grunts out, grabbing my plate from my hands and heading toward the tables. I grab two bottles of water for us and follow him, slightly annoyed.
We settle at the table we sat at yesterday. Misha comes back with a loaded tray piled high with what looks like half the meat section. Oliver joins us as well with spaghetti and tomato sauce.
“God, I’m starving,” Misha exclaims while grabbing his knife and fork.
“You’re always starving.” I can hear the eye roll in Grey’s tone.
I have to suppress a smile, and once more, a feeling of belonging fills me. Being around them is so effortless, somethingI never really felt with anyone but August. It’s dangerous. It’s something I could get used to.
But as we start to eat, I feel the prickling sensation of being watched on the back of my head. Not just paranoia—whispers float over, my name uttered in hushed tones.
Ugh, fantastic.
I glance behind and meet the stares of several men at a nearby table. Their expressions are mingled with curiosity and amusement. Feeling suddenly exposed, I set my wrap down, my appetite fleeing.
Grey looks up from his plate beside me when he notices. “What is it?”
No doubt, he’s ready to tackle me with the EpiPen again. I have a bruise covering over half of my thigh, thanks to him.
And I’m still breathing, thanks to him, which is a lot more important.
I guess.
Shaking my head, I reply, “Just not as hungry as I thought.”
Before Grey can respond, harsh whispers cut through the background noise of the cafeteria.
“Women… always seeking attention…”
“The damsel in distress act… works well…”
“… sleeps her way to the top…”
I shrink into myself, mortification flooding in as I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
They’re total arseholes.
I know that. Fuck,every womanin STEM knows what this is.
Their words should roll off my back, but it stings, especially with the guys right here, having probably heard all of it since they stopped eating too.
They’re gonna think I’m using them to get my career going.
As I sit frozen, the mocking words piercing the air around me, I suddenly feel a shift. Warmth presses against my back,and when I glance up, I find Grey has moved closer, his arm draped protectively over the back of my chair, his body leaning in toward me. His gaze is fixed firmly over his shoulder on the table behind us, where the sneers and jeers had originated from.
His scowl is deep, almost palpable in its intensity, and it cuts through the cafeteria noise like a sharp blade. It’s as if his look alone commands respect—or at least something akin to fear.
Who needs words if you have a scowl like that?
Under the force of his glare, the group’s laughter dwindles, and their smug expressions falter. One by one, they stand, their chairs scraping back in a hasty retreat. They mumble among themselves, their voices now a low, embarrassed murmur as they collect their trays and jackets. Grey’s scowl escorts them silently out of our vicinity.
He doesn’t move away immediately once they’re gone. Instead, he remains beside me, his arm still casually resting behind me, eliciting a flutter in my chest.
Fuck, that was…
… so damn hot.
Seems like I’m a damsel in distress, after all.
