At that, he presses one hand into my lower back and propels me down the rest of the aisle and into a seat in the back.
I can feel Lawrence and his friends glancing back at us, but one glare from Bodhi cuts that out.
“What do you want, asshat?” I ask, eyes forward and not even looking at him.
“Now, is that any way to speak to someone who helped you?”
“You are the one who caused the problem in the first place.”
“You don’t have any proof of that,” he says, leaning over the desk he slouched into next to me.
“I know it was you. No one else would have gotten that video.”
“Look around, Landry. Everyone here could have gotten that video. Don’t think these people are your friends; they aren’t. But in the interest of full disclosure, Brock got the video. It was a little gem to watch, wasn’t it? You should be glad we didn’t show the entire thing.” With that, he winks and sits back in his chair.
“Will you leave? I don’t want to sit next to you,” I say.
He shrugs. “Better get used to it, sis. I’m in this class too.”
The rest of the day passes quickly. I have one of the guys in each of my classes, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence. They are keeping an eye on me, and I don’t like it. Brock didn’t even look my way last class, which was fine with me, but Corbin, I’ve felt his eyes on me the entire time we’ve been sitting here. Searching, knowing, and tickling my skin with goose bumps. I’m thankful he isn’t sitting close enough to see them coat my arms.
I itch to look over my shoulder at him, but I know he will see me, and I don’t want to give him the impression that I care. But I can sense his gaze boring a hole in my back, and I don’t know what it means. He’s so hot and cold, acting aloof and angry that I’m here one moment and then coming to my room—the one place that’s mine—and filling it with memories I’m not sure I want.
Fuck, I’m getting wet, just thinking about it. So far, I haven’t had any issues with any of the other kids—other than Lawrence. Maybe everyone got wind of my showdown with him and how Bodhi broke it up and decided they didn’t want to incur the kings’ wrath by fucking with me. Either way, I’m okay with flying under the radar. Better than having my lady bits put on display for everyone to see.
Oh wait, that already happened to me.
“Miss Paradise?”
My name being called cuts into my cringe-worthy flashback to yesterday, and I jerk my head up from where I was doodling on my notebook. My teacher for American English, Mrs. Fisher, is standing at the front, stern face looking squarely at me as I realize that must not have been the first time she called my name.
“Why don’t you tell the class what has you so intrigued on the pages of your notebook?”
I glance down, eyes widening when I register what—or who—I was drawing.
Keeping my face steady and hoping I don’t look the color of a fire hydrant, I open my mouth, cringing inside, and say, “I’d rather not.”
“It wasn’t a question, Miss Paradise.”
Damn, even the teachers are assholes here.
“It’s just a drawing,” I say, shrugging and hoping she will drop it.
Suddenly, an arm extends over my shoulder. Kelsey, the girl who sits behind me, rips the notebook from my grasp, and I sit there in shock.
“It’s Corbin,” she says, holding the page up for everyone to see.
I want to melt into the floor and die. I randomly started sketching, and that’s what my asshole brain decided to come up with. I turn to look at the girl, but I am snagged on those damn green eyes. I can’t get away from them.
“Thank you, Miss Collins, but that was unnecessary. Do not take other students’ belongings. You can return her notebook. And, Miss Paradise, please see me after class.”
The girl leans up, placing the notebook in my hand while smiling.
“Did you ever find your uniforms?” she whispers, and my eyes widen.
“You bitch,” I start to say.
She smiles like she enjoys being called names, so I stop, and we stare at each other.
“He’s a king, sweetie. As if he’d ever choose you.”
I try not to let her words get under my skin, but they do.
“What makes you so sure?” I ask, eyebrows raised, and the girl sits back, crossing her arms over her chest.
Corbin might be a king here, but he’s already chosen me in some weird way. I don’t know; maybe it’s purely sexual. Our close proximity seems to be laced with tension that makes me ache inside and want to stick my hand in my pants—er, skirt.
I slam my notebook shut and keep my eyes straight forward the rest of class, making sure to keep my mind on the lesson and not on the six-foot-something man of muscle with striking looks behind me, who surely thinks I am off my rocker now.
As soon as the bell rings, all the other students rush out, and damn if I’m not able to pick out Corbin’s cologne as he passes by me. He doesn’t pay me any attention, and I breathe a sigh of relief once the door shuts behind him.
“Miss Paradise.” My teacher’s voice cuts into my thoughts again, and I’m starting to get irritated at her for doing that.
I slowly gather my stuff.
“Yes?” I stand and walk to her desk, holding my notebook and textbook.
“This is not Art class, Miss Paradise. Please refrain from doodling while I’m going over the lesson. This is a prestigious school, and we take our work here very seriously. Don’t you know how many students vie for a position in this school every year? We only take the best of the best.”
Reading between the lines, I understand she means they take the ones who pay the most. I wonder how much Chester is paying for me to go here. My mind snaps to Corbin, how he’s a scholarship student. It must mean he’s freaking smart to be going here, tuition paid for and without a background swollen with rich ancestors.
Fuck if that isn’t sexy—a smart man.
“This is only a warning for now. I don’t want to have to tell you again. Learn, Miss Paradise. I want you to succeed and go far in this world.”
Underneath her brusqueness, I feel like Mrs. Fisher does truly want what’s best for me. It must be this environment that hardens people, making them feel like they can’t drop their masks.
I nod and turn, throwing open the door and relishing in the feeling of having the first day of classes over and done. They weren’t awful. I think I might even like American English with Mrs. Fisher.
I stop right outside the door as I catch the gaze of Corbin. He’s leaning against the opposite wall, slouched down and one leg kicked up, bracing himself. I let my eyes drift over his form, how he exudes calm and relaxed. I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame, like a deer to headlights, like … well, like any cliché where one is drawn to something pretty but ends up dying in the process. That’s what Corbin makes me feel like. Like he will be the death of me. This can’t end well. I feel like a toy in his clutches, one that he will eventually break and throw in the trash.
He pushes off the wall and walks toward me as I stand in the doorway, frozen.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, a small smile tilting the corner of his lips, and I can’t drag my eyes from it. He reaches out, wrapping one strong hand around my elbow, pulling me and letting the door click shut behind me.