“Look at me, Gracie,” Brax said. His voice was low, steady, without a trace of humor. Dark brows furrowed over those shocking, now-angry eyes. He drew closer, so only I could hear his words. “I don’t know what happened with you and that prick, but I don’t fucking like the way you go all pale and scared-as-shit looking when he’s around.”
I didn’t say anything, and I focused on his chest instead of his eyes. He rectified that by lifting my chin with his knuckle. Brax ducked his head. “Did he hurt you, Gracie?” His finger grazed my ring. My pledge of virginity. My band of deceit. Between his tender gesture and protective, determined gaze, the fear once more slipped right on out of me. Amazing, really, how he’d managed that with just a few words, a look, and a slight touch. I breathed in, settled my eyes on his, smiled.
And lied.
“No,” I said in a low voice, as believingly as I possibly could. I mean, yes, I felt a connection with Brax. Yes, we’d known each other for a very, very short time, yet he made me comfortable, aware, and disrupted. But no—I was not about to divulge my dirty secrets to him. To no one. Not even Tessa. “I’m just shocked to see him, is all.” Then I straightened, forced my eyes not to drift to Kelsy. “What we had before was just a silly teenaged high school romance. It’s been over for a long time, Brax.”
Brax said nothing. Just stared at me. His eyes didn’t flinch, remaining seared into mine so hard I was positive he could see through the shroud of lies that poured from my mouth. Before he could respond, if he was even going to, the professor began.
“As you can see, you each have your class syllabus in front of you. Follow it. You’re not in high school anymore, guys, and your mommy can’t send you a sick note as an excuse. I expect all homework turned in on the assigned dates. No make up dates for tests. And if you don’t have a composition book, get one. You’ll need to keep a personal log of the class, to be turned in for a grade at the end of the semester. And they’d better be individual.” Professor Sentinel, whose longer hair curled at his shirt collar, grinned as his watchful gaze scanned the class through his rounded wire-framed glasses. “As you can see we begin with good ole Homer’s Iliad. Peel open your text books, girls and boys, and let’s see if we can decipher what the row between King Agamemnon and our poor unfortunate hero, Achilles, and the resulting tragic Graeco-Trojan conflict was all about, eh?”
My eyes slipped to Brax’s. He gave me one last long stare, and then his head turned in Kelsy’s direction. Kelsy must have sensed it because he looked over. Then he quickly turned away.
All during lecture, I felt Brax’s eyes on me. It made concentration more than difficult, which meant I’d have to go back over the notes I furiously scribbled for the entire class, and more than once. I’d already studied Homer’s Iliad in high school, but Professor Sentinel warned us his lecture would be very different. Despite that knowledge, my brain kept returning to the fact that the guy who had humiliated me in more ways than one was sitting across the class from me; the guy who had suddenly entered my life and felt like an inked knight in shining armor—or wolf in sheep’s clothing—was sitting protectively beside me. All I wanted to do was escape the past year, start my new college life and begin the shift to my career in studying the stars. How did it end up being all about Kelsy Evans? God, why couldn’t he have chosen a different school?
By the time Professor Sentinel wrapped up lecture, I’d started feeling cagey and wanted to escape. When he excused the class, I couldn’t help but notice how Kelsy grabbed his pack and darted for the door, which made me feel somewhat better. Maybe the challenging looks Brax threw him had paid off. Maybe Kelsy would give up and leave me alone. So what if he thought Brax and I were together? That could only be a plus, right? That’s all I wanted. Just to be left alone. I gathered my curriculum and textbook, stuffed them in my pack, and stood.
“Where are you headed next?” Brax said.
“Conner Hall.” I looked at him, at the strange color of his eyes, and the scars that marred his skin. “U.S. and Texas government.”
“I’ll walk you.”
As we stood facing each other, and relatively close, I realized how much of Braxton Jenkins there really was. He seemed to surround me. I put my hand on his inked arm and noticed for the first time that a rugged Celtic cross was one of the melded pieces of art tattooed into the myriad of objects. “I can walk myself, Brax. Honestly, I’m fine.”
Brax’s gaze drifted down to my hand, then he looked at me. Fury, like I’d seen at the restaurant when his friend Kenny had touched my hair, lit those blue eyes on fire. “I don’t like that guy, Gracie.”