“I missed you. You never texted me,” Layla whines in my ear.
“Sorry, I forgot.” I grin, even though I feel annoyed. I’m good at hiding my emotions, at getting what I want.
“It’s okay…I forgive you.” She nibbles on her bottom lip and leans into my face. Before Jules showed her face here, all that would’ve mattered was finding my next lay, or getting my dick sucked, but now I’m more annoyed with Layla’s presence than I am turned on by it.
Layla’s fingers move over my jeans until she reaches my cock. I don’t stop her, what’s the point. If she wants to touch me then great, so long as she keeps her fucking mouth shut.
“I want to suck your cock, Rem,” Layla purrs in my ear. But all I can hear is Jules tapping her pen against her notebook angrily. She can hear Layla, and I’d bet anything that’s annoying the fuck out of her.
Hurt her. Break her. The words bounce off my skull inside my mind.
“Jules,” I whisper her name, watching as her back straightens at the sound of my voice.
She can hear me, I know she can, and I wonder what she’s thinking. I wonder what my voice does to her. Do I make her as insane as she makes me? Does she want to throttle me and kiss me all at the same time.
Kiss me? I sneer at myself. No. No kissing. Not even Jules.
“Jules,” I taunt once more. “I know you can hear me…” I watch her tiny hand clench into a fist. Good…so fucking good. Her reaction to me makes my dick hard.
I continue taunting her, all while ignoring Layla’s incessant whines in my ear.
“Jules…are you thinking about my fingers…?” I lean forward, and whisper, my breath fanning against her ear. She smells like vanilla and sugar, so fucking warm and inviting, so fucking much like the Jules from my past. “Do you think about my fingers deep inside you…?”
“Stop.” She breaks, swiveling around, her voice snapping through the air, and much louder than a whisper. Mr. Johnson turns from the board, his eyes on Jules.
“Jules, is there something that you would like to share with the class?” At her name being called, and all eyes turning to her she shifts in her seat, turning back around, but I can’t miss the soft blush that starts to rise in her cheeks at being called out.
“N-No…I’m sorry…” she says, trying to make her voice strong.
“Good. If you didn’t come here to learn then you can leave,” he announces, his tone pissing me off instantly. It’s bad enough he called her out in class, but now he’s fucking being a dick by insinuating that she doesn’t want to fucking learn.
“Lay off,” I growl at him, slapping my palm on the table. “She was just answering one of my questions.”
“Mr. Miller, it’s so nice of you to join in on the conversation. Maybe you would like to take you and your attitude out of my classroom.”
Now I’m more than pissed…I’m fucking angry.
“Excuse me?” I growl.
“You heard me. Out. And when you come back into my classroom, you better have a better attitude.”
I blink, my jaw flexing. Did this bastard just fucking talk to me like I was dirt beneath his feet?
What the fuck!
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and grab my shit, walking out of the classroom, while feeling every pair of eyes on me. He’s not worth the fucking paperwork or ticket. I rip the door open, and then I slam it closed as I walk out, making certain I’ve made a fucking scene.
Once in the hall I try and take a couple calming breaths. What the hell is wrong with me? I stuck up for Jules without even thinking about it. I shake my head and thread my fingers through my hair.
She’s nothing.
She’s everything.
My heartbeat thunders loudly in my ears. She’s lost everything…
Every-single-fucking-thing.
I try and reason with myself. Maybe I can’t forgive her completely, but I could stop being a fucking asshole. I could try and make her life easier. I can’t deny that I want her body. I want every fucking chick’s body, but… friendship, anything close to it, is a no. It has to be. When the doors open and students start to filter out, I realize I’ve just stood here for the last five fucking minutes internally battling with myself.
Talk to her.
Fuck, okay. I’ll talk to her, I tell myself. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans and wait. This is a bad idea. But all I’m doing is talking. Layla appears, a sneer in her eyes. She’s pissed, I could tell without even looking at her. A second later, Jules walks out, and for a moment I do nothing but stare at her.
Her blonde locks are curled at the ends like always, she’s wearing a pair of killer skinny jeans and thigh-high brown boots, with a cream-colored blouse that makes her eyes pop. Her face falls the moment she spots me looking at her, but I don’t care. Running from me isn’t an option and I hope she fucking gets that now.