“I’m fine,” I bite out, feeling the bitter taste of defensiveness creep up. “But I appreciate your concern,” I add.
“Okay, but if there’s ever anything you need to talk about, or if you’re feeling overwhelmed, I’m here. So are your other professors.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine.” Readjusting the strap on my shoulder, I turn and walk out the door. Am I reallythatobvious? I know my mental health has taken a bit of a hit lately, but I guess I assumed I was better at keeping it under wraps.
With my head down, I hurry through the biology building, shoving open the door and letting out a deep breath as the fresh air hits my face. My car is in the student parking lot a few buildings away. Since I was almost late this morning, my options were slim.
The weather is cool despite the sun shining in the sky. It’s definitely getting deeper into fall; there’s no denying that with the chilly air and the fallen leaves crunching under my every step. I’m almost to the parking lot when I sense someone walking up beside me. Snapping my head to the side, my gaze collides with a familiar set of chocolate brown eyes. My mind blanks for a solid three seconds as I halt all movement, turning to look directly at him.
“What in the actual fuck are you doing here?” I blurt out, voice hushed. After our last interaction and the several instances of me blowing him off, I wondered if he’d give up already. But if I’m being honest with myself, I knew this was coming. Jules isn’t a quitter when he sets his sights on something he wants.
The faintest of smirks tugs on the left side of his lip, infuriating me even more. “I wanted to see you.”
“So, you track me down at school? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
His chuckle washes over me like water on a hot summer day, and fuck me, I’m parched. As much as I hate to admit it, the sound is music to my ears. But I cover my pleasure with distaste the best I can. “Well, you won’t respond to my texts, and Giselle keeps saying you aren’t taking clients. So, what was I supposed to do?”
I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe take a fucking hint, Jules.”
With one single step, he’s directly in front of me. So close I can practically taste the mint mouthwash on his breath. “Something tells me you already know I don’t give up that easy, pretty boy.” The deep, raspy tone of his voice has my cock thickening behind my zipper. I cannot begin to describe how much I loathe the visceral reaction I have to him.
I know he isn’t going to just give up and go home. He had to have driven at least forty-five minutes to get here, depending on how close he lives to that hotel we met up at. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself here, so despite knowing this is a terrible idea, I meet his gaze, letting out a defeated sigh. “Follow me to my house, then. We cantalkthere.” I over-emphasize the word ‘talk,’ and I don’t know if it’s more for me or him. Elias and Camden are both gone until later, so at least I won’t have to answer any questions from them about him.
Jules’s eyes widen just a hair, but that’s the only indication that my words surprised him. He nods, holding his hand out in front of him, indicating for me to lead the way. I’m not even shocked to see he’s parked in the same lot as I am. I can’t help but watch him walk toward his vehicle. He’s got on a pair of black jeans that have no business hugging his legs and ass the way they do, a white button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing his white undershirt and a dark smattering of hair across his chest, and the all-black Oakley shades he has are sitting atop thick, dark hair. The Bentley he climbs into is pitch black—paint, windows, rims—and costs more than my tuition.
It’s clear Jules has money, and he wears it well.
The drive to my house isn’t long by any means. In fact, it’s a little too short for my liking today. My mind flips through all the ways I could—and should—get him to leave. I know I won’t do any of that, though, because around Jules, my mind short-circuits. I’m on edge the entire ride, and by the time I park in front, I feel like I could hurl. This is a bad idea… I know it, but I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. If him showing up at my school today, regardless of the dozens of unanswered texts and all my efforts at turning him down, shows me anything, it’s that he’s not going to make this easy on me.
A knock on the window startles me, my head jerking to the side, gaze colliding with his gleaming brown eyes. Rolling mine, I turn off the ignition and climb out. “I don’t know why you look so fucking happy,” I grumble. “I’m only doing this so you leave me alone.”
He huffs as I shove the key into the lock at my front door. “Not happening, pretty boy.”
Two things become imminently clear in this moment. The first is that he’s right on my back. Practically whispering that nickname right into the shell of my ear, and I can feel it down in my balls. And the second is that my house is a fucking disaster, and he’s about to see it. A niggling of insecurity at the disarray hits me for a brief moment before it dissipates.
Fuck him… he shows up unannounced, then he can deal with the mess.
He brushes past me as I shut the door and hang my keys up. His cologne smells expensive; it’s intoxicating as it envelops me. Having him here, in my space, is overwhelming, and I’m quickly rethinking my choices as he turns to face me from across the room, shoulder resting on the wall, greedy gaze drinking me in from head to toe.
“Why are you here?” I cross my arms over my chest, back against the wall. If I can manage to keep my distance, I may be able to make it out of this situation unscathed.
The left side of his lip tips up into a cocky little grin. “You invited me here.”
“Not here, as in my house,” I grumble. “Here, in my city. At my fucking school.”
“I told you…” His voice is even, confident. “I wanted to see you.”
The way he says that so nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with this entire situation, is unnerving.
“Why?” The question spills out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
Cocking his head to the side, he asks, “Why what?”
“Why me? You could have anybody.” Waving my hand in front of me, I add, “Christ, Look at you!”
“And? Look at you.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
