“I’ve gotta go,Mamá,” Cross’s smooth voice floats down the hall to where I’m hiding. “My study partner is here.”
I roll my eyes so hard I see stars. Study partner must be another word for slave.
After Cross hangs up, I gather my bearings and walk into the kitchen where he’s standing with his back against the counter. As usual, he’s his typical arrogant self, arms crossed with his biceps on full display, the tattoos naturally catching my eye, long blinks as he eyes me closely.
I hold out the flash drive for him to take.
“Here, study partner,”I snark.
The scent of rich coffee fills the kitchen, and my mouth waters for a taste, but since Cross was the one to brew it this morning, I refuse to pour myself a cup.
Cross’s mouth lifts on the side with my arm still outstretched, holding the flash drive with half of his completed course work. He moves at a snail's pace, my pulse gaining momentum with each stride. Eventually, he grabs a hold of it. Our fingers brush, and electricity zaps all the way up my arm. I pull my hand away and put my back to him so he can’t see the blush spreading across my cheeks.
It’s the tattoos. They’re distracting.
“And this is?” He draws out his words, his voice lingering in our quiet kitchen.
“Three weeks’ worth of your course work done,” I clip.
He snorts. “Tell me you don’t have a life without telling me.”
I spin around in a fury, my hair skimming past my face to show him how irritated I am. “What does that say about you, then?” My arms cross against my chest defensively. “You’ve been following me around like some sort of babysitter, so does that mean you don’t have a life either?”
Cross’s eyebrows dip for a brief second before he smoothes his face. “If you didn’t act like such a baby when you ran into Nicholas, then maybe I wouldn’t have to babysit you.”
His words light a fire inside of me.
My teeth grind. “I did not act like a baby.”
Cross pushes the flash drive into his pocket lazily and shrugs. “You were shaking like a leaf, Scar.”
I gasp at the nickname and take a step away.
Cross’s eyebrow hitches with the tilt of his head.
Shit. I hate it when he’s right.
A frustrated noise leaves me as I spin around and stalk down the hallway.
He calls after me, “And where are you going?”
“None of your business!” I yell over my shoulder.
The metal doorknob does nothing to cool the burn of embarrassment on my skin. I forcibly pull the door open and take a step onto the porch before coming to a complete halt. My heart drops, and I instinctively take a step backward into something hard.
Cross’s arm winds around my waist, and he steadies me against his chest.
“Watch it,” he bites out.
My spine locks as I stare at the black SUV parked across the road.
That’s three times in the last two days that I’ve seen it.
I grab onto Cross’s arm holding me upright. My nails dig into his skin, and I tell myself to push him away, but instead, I just stand immobile.
“What is with you?” Cross asks, his voice muffled by the pounding inside my ears.
I swallow my thick spit. “I keep seeing that SUV.”
