When class was dismissed, I grabbed my bag and bolted for the door. A hand gripped my arm.
“Rough.” It was Jack, and his easy smile put me at ease. “The guy really hates you.”
“Wow, that was encouraging,” I murmured. “Thanks.”
“Tell you what.” Jack fell into step beside me. “Let me buy you coffee, and I’ll walk you to your next class.”
“Um, I don’t really think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to be late to another class and—”
“Coffee?” His brown eyes twinkled. “I swear, nothing more. You can even take the coffee and bolt, but you look like you could really use it, and I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leaned in and whispered, “I work at Starbucks, so I have the power of the employee discount.”
At that I laughed. “Wow, you’re like the president.”
“Only better looking.” He winked. “So what do you say? And before you answer, just remember, nobody should ever say no to coffee. It’s a crime punishable by law.” He nodded and took a step back. “Okay, your verdict?”
I took in his gray hoodie and fitted jeans. He was cute, a boyish cute, his hair dark and messy. Something about the way he smiled made me think I knew him, which probably meant I’d seen him around campus and never actually seen him.
I checked my phone and nodded. “Fine. One quick cup, but we need to go fast.”
“I ran track for four years in high school… My middle name was Flash.”
“Seriously?”
“Not an athletic bone in this body,” he joked. “But I figured you were one for playful banter, so I went with it. Good move?”
I laughed with him. “Good move.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
She didn’t stay at my penthouse that night… pretty sure she went home and cried.
When I checked the website, I noticed we’d gotten a surge of hits over the last week because of the guy I’d embarrassed. What a loser. The guy had pulled his Facebook profile, Twitter account — everything. After a few quick empty searches, I felt confident I’d at least embarrassed him enough to get him to stay away from Mel. That had been the number one reason… competition, well, that and boredom, but it was the fact that he’d stared at her. Granted, she’d rejected him, but still. Nobody touched what was mine. Ever. —The Journal of Taylor B.
Tristan
CLASSES WERE GRUELING; my focus was completely off. By the time I was finished teaching for the day, all I really wanted was to escape. I lifted my briefcase from the floor and frowned. A white slip must have fallen off my desk.
When I picked it up, I felt my entire body shake with rage. It was a note of excuse from campus security — on Lisa’s behalf.
Cursing, I stomped my way across campus until I reached her dorm. When I noticed that the door was still broken and just wedged shut, I went from angry to full-on pissed.
I knocked loudly. Twice.
When the door didn’t open, the rage was replaced with sheer panic that something had happened to her.
I was just getting ready to break down the door when it swung open. Gabe stood on the other side. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Tristan, what up, man? You make house calls now?”
“Not exactly.” I tried to calm my breathing. “There was a slight misunderstanding in class, and Lisa—”
“Slight misunderstanding, my ass,” Gabe said under his breath. “Look, I know you have to draw that teacher-slash-student line, and I respect you for it, but could you be any more of an ass? Seriously.”
“Are you telling me how to do my job or just insulting me?” I asked, dumbstruck that he’d said that to my face.
Gabe crossed his arms. “Both.”
“Listen—” I leaned forward, trying to use my weight to push past him. “—I just want to make sure she’s okay.”
“She has me.” Gabe pushed back. “I’ll decide if she’s okay or not, and didn’t you say something about what she does in her personal time not really mattering to you? So, why don’t you go have a heart elsewhere? We’re full-up on assholes here, and I really don’t want to have to see my own face on the six o‘clock news because I kicked your sorry ass.” His eyes narrowed. “Besides, what would Daddy say?”
With that, he slammed the door in my face.
Deserved. Well played and totally deserved.
I pressed my fingers to my temples. It was tempting to hack the freaking database just to get her cell number. I wanted a damn smiley face or something — something that said she was fine, something that—
Inspiration struck. I didn’t need to hack anything. I had all of the students’ contact numbers, as well as their emails, back at my house.
I ran down the hall and drove like a bat out of hell. I’d email her. It would be less personal, and what girl ignores email from a professor? Especially one who was paranoid she was going to fail his class?
CHAPTER TWENTY
I used to count cuts instead of sheep. I made small cuts down my arm, but the pain didn’t make me feel a damn thing. Mel came over a few nights before I was going to put my plan in place. I was the perfect boyfriend. I cooked her dinner; I rented a movie; we talked; we laughed. I wanted her to remember the good times, so when I hurt her I’d be able to pull that string again. That’s the thing about controlling others. During the good times? That’s all they focus on. They focus on good because focusing on bad just makes them feel like less of a person. “See? He really loves me? He really cares!” Bullshit. She was a means to an end… my end. I was going to live forever — or maybe the right word is haunt? —The Journal of Taylor B.