Fierce(4)

“What kind of a ‘thank you’ is that?” he says, squinting, taunting me.

Suddenly, he looks a lot less attractive. I cross my arms and say, “Thank you.”

He smiles and tilts his head, dangling the bracelet in front of me. “That all?”

“Yes. What else do you want from me?” I snap.

“Your name.” He mimics my stance and crosses his arms, burying the bracelet deep within the socket of his elbow. His biceps bulge against his leather jacket, and I have trouble not gaping at them.

“Autumn Blakewood. Yours?”

“Autumn? What kind of name is that for a girl?”

With furrowed brows, I say, “Well I like it.”

He starts twirling my bracelet like it’s some kind of toy. I risk a chance and reach for it, but he pulls back again. Goddammit.

“I don’t have time for games …” I say, sighing.

“Oh … I’m not playing games, Leafy.”

“Leafy?” I say, scowling.

He points at my hair and immediately reminds me of the embarrassing scene outside. Now I have to fight off the heat rushing to my cheeks.

“Here,” he says, and he tosses me the bracelet. “Name’s Hunter Bane,” he says.

I barely manage to catch the bracelet before he saunters off again. Frowning, I watch him walk off.

“See ya, Leafy.”

“My name isn’t Leafy, it’s Autumn!” I yell after him, but he only waves as he walks into his room.

Which is only five feet away from mine.





Chapter 2


The First Day



Glaring at myself in the mirror, I brush my fingers through the frizzy mess that is my hair. My brown curls don’t bend to my will, nor that of my brush. It’s like a bomb exploded on my head. I swear, sometimes I think I’d rather not sleep at all than wake up with this hair.

I get dressed and wake up Evie, because we’ll be late if she doesn’t get up soon. She swings her hands in the air, trying to shoo me away, thinking I’m her mother. It makes me laugh when she starts growling at me. As she snores, I open the window and pull the blanket off her. She squirms from the cold rush of wind on her bare legs.

After she’s dressed, we get a quick breakfast at the cafeteria. Evie and I make our way to our first classes of the first trimester. We have completely different schedules. I’m studying English lit and she’s studying linguistics. We both have a love for language, but I like my books close to home and she prefers to learn more about other cultures. I’m glad she found what she likes to do, but it’s unfortunate that we have only a few classes we both follow.

I’m going to miss having her close by. I’m not used to being on my own and not having my friend around to support me. Walking through these massive halls makes me feel like an ant. A tiny, miserable little ant that could be squashed underneath big feet at any moment.

I’m never comfortable around a lot of people. It’s something that stuck with me after that hellhole they call high school.

Right now, I don’t have my best friend to back me up, and Brody’s already in his political science class, so I have no choice but to venture through the campus alone. Still, it surprises me I’ve not yet bumped into someone. That nobody has called me any names yet.

As I find my way to the classroom I’m supposed to be in, I sit down on the nearest empty bench seat I can find. I don’t want to have to walk all the way down the steps, knowing people are going to look at me. I don’t like being watched. Maybe I’m too insecure, but when the focus lies on me, I get the creeps.

I unpack my books, pens, and paper and put my bag under my seat, while someone sits down next to me.

As I look up to see who it is, I almost jump up from my seat.

Just seeing his big gray eyes makes me want to run.

“What are you doing here?” I say, perplexed.

“Following this class,” Hunter retorts. “What else?”

Pursing my lips, I gather my pencils and line them up neatly like I always do when I’m nervous as hell. “I uh …”

“And what are you doing here?” he asks playfully, putting up a curious face like it’s the most serious question in the world.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Well, do you want to be here?”

I arch one eyebrow and he does, too, mimicking my expression, as if he’s making fun of me. “Of course I do,” I say.

He chuckles. “Figured. You seem like the nerdy type.”

I gasp. “I am not a nerd.”

“No?” Hunter reaches over to my books and opens the first one he can find. “Looks like it to me.” He points at all the notes I’ve made. “I don’t know anybody who writes this much before class has even started.”