Jeff hasn’t looked away from the exit she just left, his jaw muscle ticking and his fist squeezed tight around the strap of his hockey bag. He slowly turns towards me with a blank expression, but I can see the rage behind his mask. Why does this fucker think everything is a competition between us?
“How do you know Kat? What was she doing here with you?!” His mouth twists into a snarl as the thought of her and me together… A slow smile starts to spread across my lips as his face starts to turn beet red with anger. He wants her, that much is obvious, but I didn’t like the look in his greedy eyes as he stared at her, almost as if he owned her.
“None of your damn business. A fair warning though, stay the fuck away from her,” I whisper in a deadly voice with a threat clear in my tone. I noticed when he was crowding her space that she was looking around frantically for an escape.
He scowls at me as he pushes past me in angry strides. I make sure he rounds the corner, just in case he gets any ideas of chasing after her. For once, I didn’t think of Victoria’s cheating when I stared at Jeff. My mind was occupied with the woman that gets my blood pumping and why she doesn’t act skittish around me as she does with Jeff. I realize I’m standing on the concrete with my skates on as I stare at the door she left through. My blades are fucked now, but I keep questioning myself…
What is it about her? Why can’t I stop thinking about her?
5
Kat
I burrow into my coat and make my way across campus with my breath fogging the air. My legs won’t stop shaking, the thought of Jeff towering over me makes my heart sped up. He reeked of sleaziness and something else that puts me on edge. I’m just glad the weekend starts after my last class today and I won’t have to see him until class next week. My lips touch the brim of my coffee cup, taking a sip that slightly burns my mouth, but coffee is my life. The best kind is from my favorite coffee shop on campus, and I quickly grabbed one before class to survive the day.
As I swing open the door to English literature with Professor Roz, I’m beyond stoked. I love the escape a book can bring, the way it takes you to a place just for a little while. Books are life and this class will break it down step by step to dive into the unknown of how it all works. I’ve heard Professor Roz is a hard ass, but being in his class gives me something to take my mind off of my home life and a certain jock that walks around like he’s a god just because he’s the captain of the hockey team. I snort to myself as I start climbing the stairs to grab a seat in the back row, allowing me to see the whole room with my back to the wall. I open my bag and grab my notebook while taking a seat, then focus on my doodling as students start filling the class. Time passes as I get lost in the endless swirls I’m drawing, and the door slamming startles me as Professor Roz walks over to the board to start outlining our semester workload. I’m writing down my notes when the door slams again, echoing around the silent room. I look up from my notebook and quickly glance back down before he can see me. Why the heck did I dye my hair pink again? It’s like a beacon, and I can feel his stare burning into my skin, leaving his imprint as he did earlier when he touched me.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Wilder. Please take a seat and don’t be late again. I don’t care who you are around here,” Professor Roz says with annoyance in his voice, adjusting his glasses before turning back to the white board.
It would seem the professor is not a fan of hockey, and I focus on my doodling to hide my smile behind the curtain of my hair. I hear his stomping footsteps, almost as if he wants me to hear him. He keeps making his way up the steps, and my heart stalls when I see his bag dropping on the floor next to mine out of the corner of my eye. He just stands there, and I wonder why he hasn’t sat down yet until I can’t take it anymore. I glance up and see him already staring at me, his piercing green gaze holding me in place. Why is he everywhere I go?
“Princess, I’m starting to think maybe you're stalking me,” he says in a low, deep voice as he sits right next to me, his arm brushing mine.
He shifts until his long legs are spread out and he’s crouching down in his seat with his big body angled towards mine. I glance around to see half the girls in here giving me the death stare before batting their lashes at the jock taking up my personal space.
“As if. I was here first. Why are you even taking this class?” I ask him, watching him twirling his pencil between his strong fingers.
I had those fingers tracing my bottom lip, causing a sensation that left a burning trail behind. For some reason, I want to challenge him. To provoke this side of him he no doubt keeps locked up. I saw him this morning, hitting the puck as if it had done him harm. He’s good, I’ll give him that. I watched his biceps flex under his long sleeved shirt when he drew back his hockey stick to land a strike that sprayed up the ice around him. I remember my heart racing, my stomach fluttering, and
