“Can I help you?” I ask.
“How’d you do on the test?” he asks casually.
“I think I did all right. You?”
His eyebrows rise and fall briefly, like he only wanted to fuck with me and didn’t expect a real response. “I’m a straight-A student,” he assures me. “I’m sure I did just fine.”
“Are you a straight-A student because you’re smart, or because you play football and all the teachers pad your report card?” I inquire.
His lips curve up faintly. “The first one. Unless I’m hung over and I don’t feel like giving a fuck, then sometimes it’s the second one.”
“I figured,” I mutter.
“Speaking of being hung over, there’s a party next weekend at Erika’s house. You should come.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” His arm is still draped around my shoulder as we walk, and given the halls are packed full of people, I can’t help noticing people gawking at us. “You really shouldn’t be seen with me, you know,” I say, somewhat lightly, all things considered. “I’m not sure even your reputation can handle it after all the Jake stuff went down.”
“Please,” he says dismissively. “I could levitate a boulder with my reputation. Hell, Jake’s not even playing this season; if I really felt like it, I could kick him out of everyone’s good graces and put you on top.”
“That sounds strangely like a proposition,” I state.
He shrugs. “Just saying.”
I fall silent for a moment, wondering how sincere he is. I would never actually consider selling myself out to save something as insignificant as my reputation in this ridiculous town, but if he’s willing to turn his back on Jake for me, either he really wants my virginity any way he can get it, or…? Just or, I’m not sure what the “or” would be in this scenario. I would say, or he likes me, but that can’t be the case. Before Jake made me notorious, Carter Mahoney didn’t even know my name.
“I don’t care about bein’ popular,” I inform him. “That doesn’t matter to me.”
“Above it all, huh?” He doesn’t sound offended, more like he’s taking stock of what he can offer me that will net him better results. “Okay, then. What matters to you?”
Like I’d tell him that. “What were you drawing?” I ask him.
Carter cocks a questioning eyebrow and looks over at me. “Excuse me?”
“In class. It looked like you were sketching something.”
Amusement tugs at the corners of his lips. “Ellis, were you spying on me?”
My face flushes faintly, but I refuse to be cowed right now, in relative safety. “I keep an eye on the predators in my immediate vicinity,” I inform him.
“Likely story,” he replies, with easy charm. “How’d you like the notes I took for you yesterday?”
“Those were not notes. That was written porn.”
“Erotica, then. Don’t be basic and pretend you don’t know there’s a difference.”
I roll my eyes at him. “I work at a bookstore; I know what erotica is.”
That catches his interest, but he keeps his tone conversational. “Yeah? Which bookstore?”
Shit, why did I say that? He already showed up at my house, I shouldn’t tell him where he can get me alone on my way to my car. “You didn’t answer my question, so why should I answer yours?”
“Why do you care what I was sketching? That’s a better question.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
A few seconds pass in silence. He still hasn’t removed his arm from around me, and a cheerleader walking past stops dead and turns to stare, but Carter keeps moving. Finally, he says, “A bottle.”
“You were drawin’ a bottle?” I ask, skeptically.
He nods. “I was working on lighting and shading. Nothing significant, just practice.”
“For class?”
“For someone who hates me, you sure have a lot of questions about me.”
“You have to know your enemy to defeat them,” I inform him with exaggerated haughtiness.
That only makes him grin. “Are you gonna defeat me, princess? I’d love to see you try.” Tugging me close, he brings his other hand up to grab my jaw. “Remember that little chat we had, though? About you being a good little whore and keeping this pretty mouth shut, unless you’re opening it to take my cock?”
My heart kicks up a couple speeds and I jerk my chin free. “I don’t think we agreed to all that,” I mutter, trying to pull away from him now. I’ve tried to play it cool with his touch, but now he’s pushing farther and my insides are starting to twist up. I don’t want him to know that, so I try to maintain an even tone. “I haven’t said anything. If I intended to, I probably wouldn’t let you wrap your arm around me in the hallway.”
“Let me, she says,” he murmurs with amusement, like we’re friends sharing a joke.
“Does it feel like I’m fightin’ you, Carter?” I shoot back.