Driving back to campus, I commit to making a change. No more fantasizing about her or allowing myself to fixate on her body. During class, I’ll keep my mind on the subject matter. I’ll think of her as a student in need of guidance.
Yes, pity is a good counterbalance to lust. You can’t want to fuck someone you feel sorry for.
The flaw in my plan is I don’t buy it. I’ve already acknowledged a big part of my attraction to her is her strength. She had to be strong to survive losing her family, moving here alone, working to make a life for herself.
I’m back on campus, so I drop my speed. It’s dark, and pedestrians tend to wander into the streets on campus. I’m waiting for a group to cross when my phone lights up with a text. Lifting it off the seat, my chest tightens when I see it’s a photo of Reanna.
The angle is from above and she’s looking up, her head tilted to the side. Her dark hair is loose and wavy around her cheeks, and she’s fucking gorgeous, full lips crimson red, blue eyes taunting.
It’s the motherfucker behind her that grinds my jaw. Evan is holding a shot glass over their heads, and his eyes are not on the camera, they’re on her breasts. I want to grab him by the neck and slam him against the wall.
What are you doing with him?
The jealousy churning my stomach is unreasonable, and her reply makes it worse.I’m doing what you said, professor. I’m out with a boy my age.
“Not him.” My voice is tight, and a horn blares behind me. “Fuck.”
I toss the phone on the seat and move my vehicle out of traffic, pulling into a parking spot facing the residence halls.Where are you?
Gray dots float as she composes her answer, and I’m growing more furious the longer I wait.I’m having sex on the beachesss…
My jealousy morphs into overprotective rage.Are you drunk?
Her answer is fast.Not your businessss…
I’m on the verge of tapping the call button.Tell me where you are.
The phone goes silent, and I wait.
When she hasn’t responded after a minute, I slam the Jeep into drive and pull out into traffic with a squeal of tires.
I’m going to my place to find her mobile service, run the code, and track her down myself. I do it all the time when we’re on a case.
Anger knots in my stomach, and I whip into my driveway as another text lights the screen. Snatching it up, it’s another photo. Evan is behind her, and it looks like they’re dancing. Her eyes are closed, her mouth is open, and she’s sticking out her tongue like she’s fucking Miley Cyrus.
She’s clearly drunk, and if that little punk touches her, I will beat him to a grease spot.
Opening the door of my vehicle, I’m about to head inside to follow my plan when her answer appears,Ray’s on the River is the best place to dance.
Closing the door, I type the name into my GPS, and it pops up quickly. Five miles away. I back out quickly, covering the distance at a rapid clip. It’s an off-campus bar, which makes it worse. At least on campus we have safeguards in place.
Pulling up, the place is lit, and half the crowd is outside. I slam the door, stalking to the entrance, where a beefy guy with a bald head and tattoos stops me.
“Five dollars.” His hand is in front of my chest.
“I’m picking up someone.”
“Not without the cover.” His brow lowers, and I size him up.
We’re about the same height, and with the fury I’m feeling right now, I’m pretty sure I could take him. My nostrils flare, but he’s not the target of my wrath. He’s just doing his job.
Taking out my phone, I quickly text,Come outside. Now.
Hanging back, I assess the crowd of sloppy, mostly drunk college students. Loud music beats overhead, a mixture of rock and hip-hop I don’t recognize, and the crowd inside bounces in time.
A girl staggers past me on the porch, bumping my arm and spilling her beer on my hand.
“I’m sorry!” Her voice is too loud and pitched too high, and when our eyes meet, she blinks fast. “Let me lick it off you…”