Page 37 of Adam
“Big attitude for a rookie,” he mutters, blowing smoke. “I’ve made quieter mouths choke on their own teeth.”
I give him a side glance. “Are you jealous, Leslie?”
He tosses the smoke down, grabs my shirt collar violently, and brings me closer. “Listen up, Mitch. One more word, and I’ll make that attitude something they’ll clean off the floor.”
“Careful, Wes. I’m into that shit.” I quip with a smile, my blade already grazing his throat. His jaw clenches as he realizes he’s been outsmarted. “And I sure as hell enjoy painting the walls.”
He doesn’t speak anymore. Finally, this fucker has shut the fuck up. “What’s wrong, Wesley? The rookie played you well?”
Isabella walks out and gets startled by the view of us ready to tear each other’s throats out. None of us talk. She walks past us, clearly angry and maybe even scared of me, heading to the black, bulletproof SUV in front of the entrance.
She’s mumbling something. Oh, how I want to fuck that something out of her mouth. My eyes are drawn to her firm, heart-shaped ass as she walks further, but I try to keep them under control. I don’t want Wesley-boy to realize how pathetic I’ve become within a day.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I have to play the decent bodyguard. Why don’t you be a good boy and stay put until I give you some new orders?” I hiss, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Oh, he wants so much to talk back to me, but he’s hopefully started realizing his place. Good boy.
He lets go after a few seconds of rage that probably felt more intense in his head. I slide the blade from his throat, and he sulks back to his mansion.
I head to the oversized SUV, because obviously I get to drive the princess around like a lethal valet. Not that I can complain, because I would kill to be closer to her forlonger. Fuck, what the fuck is wrong with me?
She’s already in the car when I enter it. I try to play cool around her, but the more I’m close to her, the harder it is for me to keep my eyes away from her.
I check her through the rearview mirror, and she instantly lowers her eyes. Was she looking at me?
“Where to?” I ask, my eyes lingering more than they should.
“Uni,” she replies without looking at me.
That’s it. We don’t talk throughout the whole drive. I catch her staring at me through the mirror, but every time she tries to deny it by looking away.
I don’t put the radio on. I want to hear her if she says something, or even if she just thinks too loud. Sometimes people think out loud without meaning to, and I don’t want to miss that.
I know that sounds messed up. Pathetic, maybe. Whatever.
She starts singing some P!nk song at one point, really quiet, barely even a whisper. But I hear it. I think it’s “Just Give Me a Reason,” but I’m not sure. I’m not really listening to the song. It’s not my kind of music, anyway.
What matters was thatsheis singing.
Upon arriving at the university’s parking lot, I park the car and, of course, everyone’s eyes fall on us—on the car, actually.
She lingers in the car for a while longer but without talking. I bet she’s dying to talk to me. I certainly am to her.
“Fancy, huh?” I ask.
“The perks of having such a rich father,” she says, rolling her blue eyes. “You have to endure everyone’s eyes on you.”
“Do you want me to beat some up?” I ask with a smile.I actually mean it.
“That’s your only way of solving your issues?” she asks, raising her eyes to look at me directly for the first time.
“Of course not. Do you think I’m such a savage?” I click my tongue. “I won’t lie, though. This way is more fun.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “And you say you’re not a savage.”
Is she mad at me?
She gets out of the car, her movements fierce and sharp. I do the same, standing right in front of her, halting her way.
