Urgh, fine. I hold my hand out and he slowly places it in the palm of my hand, his fingers trailing across my skin before he withdraws. I shiver.
Give me a chance. I can see I made a shitty first impression. Let me fix that. One date.
I fight back an eye roll before scribbling across the paper and handing it back.
What sort of date?I ask.
The corner of his mouth quirks.Pizza and a movie at my place?he answers.
Pass. I just met the guy and he expects me to go back to his place with him on a first date? Do I have booty call stamped on my forehead somewhere or something?
Netflix and chill? Not really my thing.I write and toss the note back to him. We’re running out of space to write, so hopefully this will end soon because his date suggestion only confirms that he is a total player who wants an easy lay.Sorry, buddy. That isn't me.Then again, what did I expect? Shifters are known for sharing skin privileges pretty regularly. He probably thinks I’m easy for that reason alone.
The note lands on my desk again.Not what I meant. I figured we could do something low key. Get to know each other. Talk.When he puts it like that, it doesn't soundso bad,but it's still a bad idea and I’m not naive enough to fall for it. Or dumb enough to put myself at risk. What if he belongs to a shifter hating faction and needs a feline sacrifice? No thanks.
Desmond's face flashes through my mind. His lips pressed into a disapproving frown, a silent warning that I better fucking not. My stomach flip-flops, which only serves to annoy me more. I shake the image of him from my head.What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t care whether or not Desmond would approve. Actually, I don’t care. Not one bit.My tiger stretches within me in agreement. This is just a side effect of sleep deprivation and being away from Clan Cat. I barely slept last night. I’m used to my solitude, to things being quiet, but whoever is in the room over mine decided to have company over, and let’s just say they stayed up into the wee morning hours doing some extracurricular activities, and had zero problem letting the entire house know about it. Even without my enhanced shifter hearing, I still would have heard all their thumbs thumps and moans.
I give Deacon another look through my peripheral. He gives me a small smile and a tilt of his head as if to say “please?”
I’m not really looking to get into a relationship.I write, and return the paper to him, somewhat frustrated at my unwillingness to give the guy a shot. I know Desmond is factoring into that decision. Even if he isn’t the only reason, and I hate it. Hate that he has this invisible pull over me when I know nothing will ever happen between us, and that’s a good thing. We can hardly stand one another. And even more, he’s a stupid wolf. Why my tigress is interested in him at all is baffling.
Deacon’s mouth dips down as he writes out his response.
Not asking for your hand in marriage or to be your boyfriend. Just a chance to get to know you. Maybe be friends? Isn’t that the entire point to Hellbound U? To mix and mingle?
He has a point. And friends wouldn’t be a horrible idea, but … I mentally shake myself. I might regret this, but I refuse to let Desmond’s imaginary disapproval decide for me.Okay. Friends.
His smile grows when he sees my answer.Any suggestions for our first friend date?
Not a date. But how about coffee?
Got it. What’s your number?
We exchange phone numbers and I discreetly enter his into my phone, praying this isn’t a mistake when the teacher draws everyone’s attention.
"That'll be all for today. Finish your reading for the week and do not forget about Friday's exam. This will count for twenty percent of your grade, so it would behoove you not to slack off. It will be difficult to catch up should you fail and there will not be any retakes so don’t think emailing me you’re sick the night before will buy you any extra time to study. It won’t.”
A collective groan rolls through the class as everyone shuffles to their feet. "So," Deacon rubs the back of his neck. "What class do you have next?"
"Physical Combat," I tell him as we both walk out the door. His hand brushes against mine and I instinctively bring it to my chest. He doesn’t notice my reaction.
"Cool. I’ll walk with you. I'm going the same way."
"Sure." I mean, it is a free country. I can’t very well tell him no.
We spend the next ten minutes talking about nothing and everything, and my initial apprehension begins to wane. Deacon is … charismatic. He's animated when he talks, using his hands, and his face is so expressive. He’s one hundred percent as arrogant as I initially pegged him to be but, I don’t know, he’s not an asshole about it, despite what happened in the hallway, and he doesn’t grab me again. He’s fae. An Unseelie from the Shadow Court. Whatever that means. But it explains his runes and the slight point of his ears. Something I originally missed beneath the edge of his ball cap. I guess he doesn’t like to advertise his faction, something I can relate to.
I find myself laughing more than I'm used to after meeting someone new. There's just something about talking to him that is, I don't know, easy. He reminds me a lot of Jordy in that way.
I discover Deacon is in fact on the Infernum team. No surprise there. He’s second string seeing as he’s an incoming freshman, and he’s a Reaper which means he’s gunning for Desmond’s spot. Good for him.
He’s confident and definitely a little cocky that he’ll get it by the end of the year, but I know that won’t happen. Not before Des graduates, at least, so Deacon will have to wait until his junior year to start.
A part of me wonders if the two of them are friends, or friendly at least, since Desmond would be the one responsible for working with him. None of the guys are particularly social unless they have to be, Desmond less so than even Rafael, and that’s saying something.
In high school, the guys actively avoided everyone not in their close-knit circle, which genuinely meant anyone not Pack and definitely anyone who wasn’t a part of Clan Wolf.
I can’t imagine things are any different here. It’s unlikely Desmond would bother getting to know an Infernum player off the field, but during training and practices, he might be less of an asshole. Maybe. Okay, probably not, but a part of me is tempted to ask Deacon how well he knows Desmond. I try not to dwell on why I want to know that, though.
