I bite back my retort, letting the topic drop. I’m not scared of Raf, but I also don’t want to be on the receiving end of the pent-up rage he’s harboring right now.
“Nah, his face is too pretty,” Ford cuts in with a laugh, reaching between the seats to slap a hand down on Raf’s shoulder. “You can fightme, though,” he adds, wagging his brows.
“Fuck off,” Raf grumbles, slapping Ford’s hand away as he throws open his door and hops out of the vehicle. He grabs his bag out of the footwell before slamming it shut behind him and stomping away.
“He’ll come around,” I tell Ford, opening my own door and stepping out into the chilly night air. Raf’s already halfway to the building, eating up the distance in long strides.
Ford climbs out of the back seat, still clutching the whiskey bottle in his grip as he joins me in watching our friend storm across the parking lot.
“He just needs to work off some aggression first,” I mumble. “Once he’s calmed down, he’ll see he doesn’t have any other choice.”
“He’s more like his old man than he’d ever admit,” Ford muses, swallowing another mouthful of whiskey before tucking the bottle into his leather jacket. “If there’s another way, he’ll find it.”
“Then we just need to convince him there isn’t.”
“Aw, you getting attached, Romeo?” he taunts, lips pulling into a feral grin.
I scoff and roll my eyes. “No, I’m just being pragmatic.”
“Yousure?” he presses as we start toward the building.
I open my mouth to respond when I hear someone call my name, turning my head to see a blonde in a short skirt leaning up against a beat-up red Camaro. My trademark grin instantly spreads across my face and I lift a hand to wave.
“Find me after the fight?” she asks, desperation dripping from each word.
I swirl my tongue against the inside of my cheek as I give her an appreciative once over, eyes lingering where the hem of the skirt brushes her upper thighs.Not a schoolgirl skirt, but I suppose it’ll do.
“Maybe,” I mumble as I stride past, tossing her a wink for good measure.
“You can admit you’re not done with her yet,” Ford murmurs absently. “I’m not either.”
“Ah, soyou’regetting attached,” I tease, elbowing him in the ribs.
He slams to a stop, all humor draining from his voice as his brows slant inward. “I don’t get attached.”
“No?” I challenge, swiveling in his direction and arching a brow. “Not even after you inked her?”
Ford snorts a laugh, slipping right back into joviality. No matter how long I’ve known the guy, his abrupt shifts in demeanor still weird me out sometimes.
“I still wanna hit, if that’s what you mean,” he remarks, knocking his shoulder into mine as he resumes walking toward the building.
“You and me both,” I grumble as I fall into step beside him.
CHAPTER 28
AVA
Evidently I wasn’tthe only one who slept terribly after that tattoo session from hell last night. Wes looks like an extra from The Walking Dead when I find him standing outside of Sutton Hall waiting for me the next morning, and it’s a little shocking to see the campus golden boy so unkept. His blonde hair is a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it nonstop, and his black-framed glasses do little to hide the dark circles etched beneath his tired gray eyes.
I try to pretend like I don’t even see him, starting down the path from the dorms toward the quad, but he catches up in a few long strides and falls into step beside me. Though I’m consciously avoiding looking over at him, I canfeelthe way he’s eating me up with his gaze.
“Think that might be my favorite skirt yet,” he murmurs in a low, sultry tone.
I glare down at the pavement, refusing to rise to his bait.What does he expect me to do, thank him for the compliment?I’d rather set myself on fire than pander to his weak attempts at being a decent human being. If these boys have taught me anything thus far, it’s that decency gets you nowhere on this campus.
He’s right about the skirt, though. This one has always been a favorite of mine– a simple gray and black plaid that I’ve paired with black ankle boots and a white chiffon blouse. Whenever I put this outfit on, I feel like a powerful businesswoman, and I need those vibes to carry me through the day after last night’s torture. Even if I woke up feeling like anything but a strong, independent woman, at least I can look like one.
“So, you’re just ignoring me now?” Wes asks, still trying to attempt conversation. He blows out a slow breath when I don’t respond, raking a hand through his blonde hair. “Hey, I get it if you’re still pissed about last night, but it could’ve been a lot worse.”
