She walks away before I can say anything, her hair swaying. My gaze drops to her skirt, lingering there, wishing I could see more of her.
Wishing I could protect her.
The foreign feeling settles over me and I rub my chest, frowning. Why do I want to protect her? Why do I care so damn much? I don’t get it.
I don’t understand my feelings for her.
I leave the classroom and exit the building, heading for the junior and senior dorm building. I don’t have a room there. As a Lancaster, I automatically get one of the private suites in another building that once housed staff when they lived on campus. But I hang out here sometimes, usually in the common room.
Where I’m headed right now.
I find a chair and settle in, waiting while I scroll on my phone, my gaze going to the door, knowing eventually I’ll see him appear. He’s so damn predictable. His favorite place to hang out after school is in this very room. All of his followers surrounding him, waiting for another story about yet another innocent girl who gave it up to his douchey ass.
The problem with the girls not talking about what he does is they don’t warn the others who follow after them. It’s like this weird secret that grows and grows. Everyone knows it’s happening, but no one admits it’s actually happened to them.
It’s kind of fucked. Someone needs to call Larsen out for his shit.
Maybe that someone should be me.
What does it really matter, what Larsen does with other girls? We’ve let it happen for the last couple of years, so what’s the difference now?
Wren.
She’s the difference. I can’t stand the thought of him even looking at her, let alone touching her. He’s a piece of shit creep who doesn’t deserve even an ounce of her attention. Wren is so damn sweet and pure and good.
Ibarely deserve her attention, and I’m ten times the man that Larsen the fuckhead is. And if he were to do something that would devastate her completely, like film her while he took advantage of her after slipping a drug in her drink? Holy shit.
I’d probably kill him if given the chance.
It takes him a solid twenty minutes, but he finally shows up. Larsen enters the common room with a smile on his face, high fiving a couple of dudes who greet him like he’s their long- lost leader.
Such a bunch of shit. That they even look up to this supreme asshole says a lot about them.
He spots me, surprise on his face since I’m sitting in the chair he usually occupies. See, I know what he’s up to. I know how he operates. And I can tell by his grim expression that he doesn’t like me sitting in his chair.
My family owns this place. Technically it’s my mother fuckin’ chair. I can sit wherever the fuck I want.
“Hey, Crew,” Larsen says, stopping directly in front of me.
“Hey.” I indicate the empty chair across from me. “Have a seat.”
He reluctantly sits down on the edge of the chair, looking ready to bolt at any second. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much. How are you?” I could give a shit how he’s doing, but I’m not going to be an idiot and attack him at first sight.
I need a quiet approach. Lull him into thinking everything is fine before I lay down my threat.
“I’m good. Ready for the weekend.”
Damn, he walked right into it.
“Got plans?”
He nods, relaxing slightly. “Headed to the city. Not till the morning though.”
Good to know. I’ve already done a little research. Figured out exactly where this exhibit is happening that Wren is planning on attending.
“What are you doing while you’re there?”