Chapter 20
Savannah
What the actual hell?
Me: Are you spying on me?
QB10: No, that’s crazy. I was coming back to ask if you wanted to come to a party. Saw him skulking outside your shed, decided I wasn’t sure I wanted to interrupt
“Skulking?” I muttered, my thumbs flying across the screen. “Who says ‘skulking’?”
“I do.”
I looked up and saw him standing just inside the door.
He’d changed clothes. He was in jeans, a white T-shirt, and a light gray hooded sweater that draped open and had no buttons or zipper that I could see.
“You changed?” How long had I been in here? I glanced at my watch. Hours had passed. Oh... okay.
“SoJohn... is he a friend of yours?” Dante’s voice slid through the air like smoke, low and unamused.
I whipped my head up at his tone. He was leaning against the doorframe, all casual in his hoodie and jeans, but his eyes were sharp, locked on mine.
“He’s a professor,” I said, hating how breathless I sounded. “You were there on Saturday, he told you to call him John. I just call him ‘professor.’”
He tipped his chin toward the path where Yates had just gone. “Didn’t look like he thinks you’re his student.”
“He’s myprofessor.”
“Right.” He dragged it out like it was more than a one-syllable word. His mouth curved, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Seemed like he wanted more than updates on stained glass.”
“Don’t be an ass.” I realized what he said. “Wait... were youlistening?”
“The door was open.”
I blinked. “So you were listening.”
“You’ve fucked him?”
My jaw dropped. “No!” I couldn’t believe he asked me that. “What iswrongwith you?”
“Me? Not much,” Dante said easily, pushing off the frame and stepping inside, too big, too close. His gaze flicked over my project, then back to me.
It was too late to hide it. I gave a wordless nod of thanks, my mind still stuck on his last question.
“What is it?” he asked, walking around it. “It looks like a windmill.” He glanced over at me. “Have I just insulted you?”
“At which point?” I muttered. “When you kissed me and ran earlier, when you accused me of sleeping with a professor, or when you asked if my art piece was a windmill?”
Dante laughed. “You always get worked up over the silliest things.” He stood back from my project. “I like it.”
“Good for you,” I grumbled. “I’ve decided Idon’tlike you.”
“Bullshit.” He moved closer to me. “I didn’t kiss you andrun, I walked out of here very calmly after I saw you having a freak-out over the fact you’d kissed me... and copped a feel,” he added with a wink. He shrugged carelessly when I didn’t speak. “You needed time. I gave you some time.” He looked around the shed. “So you tutor, you attend every event your father makes you, and you do this as well as your own homework.” He raised an eyebrow in question, and I nodded confirmation. “You work too hard.”
“What?” I was not keeping up with this conversation at all.
“I’m saying you work too hard.” Dante cocked his head to the side. “Who else do you tutor? Or is it just me?”
