Oxygen seems to rush back into the room now that he’s gone, and I hear the dean heave a deep sigh as I stare over my shoulder at the closed door.
What the actual fuck just happened?
25
When I turn back to Dean Wells, his expression has gone back to the stern, formal one he was wearing before Gray walked in. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, giving me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Well, Ms. Wright. I suppose you should get back to class. I was serious about you maintaining your grades and your standing at this school, and I don’t want to hear negative reports from teachers or see you in my office again.”
I bristle at the renewed implication that I’ve been some kind of problem student, but I know better than to push my luck by talking back right now.
“Yes, sir,” I mutter instead. “Thank you.”
He gives me a magnanimous nod, as if he wasn’t just basically forced into letting me stay here. Then he gestures toward the door.
I take it as the dismissal it is and stand, glad to be leaving the man’s office. There’s no damn reason that I should’ve been called in here to begin with, and I’d bet every fucking dollar I have that Cliff won’t be getting a similar lecture from the dean.
It’s not fucking fair.
But I’m still here. I’m still a student at Hawthorne, and there’s only one person to thank for that.
Gray.
The secretary looks up as I step out of Dean Wells’ office, but I barely glance at her. I hurry out of the building, my gaze scanning the manicured campus until I catch sight of Gray’s broad shoulders and chestnut brown hair glinting in the sun. He’s heading back toward his dorm, and I stride after him quickly, almost running as I try to close the distance between us.
When I’m just a few yards away from him, I raise my voice, still walking at a fast clip.
“What was that back there?”
His head moves a little, but he barely glances over his shoulder. And he doesn’t answer.
So I ask again.
“Gray. What did you mean by that? Your family’s money pays for my education?”
Still, he says nothing.
He’s walking so fast that we’re nearly to his dorm building already. I get the sudden vivid impression that I’m like a burr he’s trying to shake off, and I hate that feeling. But it’s not enough to make me give up.
“Gray!”
My voice is harder, louder, and I crowd in behind him as he enters his building, forcing my way inside before he can slam the door in my face or something.
“What?”
That one word is all I get as he flicks another glance at me, taking the steps up to the third floor quickly.
I grit my teeth as my feet pound on the stairs in a counterpoint rhythm with his. This man is infuriating. He’s acting like nothing happened, like it was no big deal for him to stroll into the dean’s office and throw around his weight like that. To stand up for me and keep me from getting thrown out of school.
Why?
Why did he do it, and why won’t he fucking talk about it?
Gray reaches his room and slides his ID card into the slot on the door. The lock clicks, and he turns the handle. I’m fully prepared to barge in after him, but before I can, he stops and turns back to face me.
“Can I help you with something?”
His voice is cool and hard, almost as dispassionate as it was when he was talking to Dean Wells. But there’s something just behind his eyes that contradicts his tone. Something wild and dangerous and almost frantic, like a trapped animal.